I've seen hard times.

I've fallen to my knees and prayed
Even when I wasn't sure the Lord was there.

But He was.

I've cried from the pain my heart carried.
From the injustice that was dealt.

I dug my nails into the dirt,
tore at the ground beneath me
until I had carved out a deep enough hole
to disappear into.

Then I grabbed a bottle of whiskey
and made that hole my home.

I never knew I was an alcoholic
until I had nothing else.

Until the drink became
more important than everything.

I was alone.

But I found comfort in the surrounding spirits
of my intoxication.

For the first time,
life wasn't just pain and misery.

Brown liquor gave me
rose-colored glasses.

And suddenly
I belonged.

When I was a child
the abuse was daily.

Sleep didn't come easy.
Fear did.

Teachers never asked
"Is everything okay at home?"

They just said
"There's something wrong with you."

The other kids agreed.

Alcohol closed that gap.

Suddenly
I was just like everyone else at the bar.

Full of piss
and bad jokes.

For the first time in my PTSD-ridden life
I had companionship.

They say the opposite of addiction
is connection.

And man don’t we all want to belong.

Alcohol gives that feeling quickly.
An easy fix
to a much larger wound.

In recovery
I've learned something different.

There are no easy fixes.

There is work.
There is honesty.
There is steady progress.

Life isn't linear. It’s cyclical.
Up and down
like a broken merry-go-round.

A decade ago
"Buy the ticket, take the ride" meant something else.

Now it means this:

The ticket is sobriety.
The ride is self-discovery.

I've had the dark nights of the soul.
I've seen the worst days of my life.

And these aren't them.

This is life. Real life.

Full of many splendid things.

I have no desire to go back.

This is the life
I used to dream about
during what alcoholics call
a moment of clarity.

Sometimes the answers are simple
and the path is clear.

Other times
the water gets murky.

Those are the times
I lean on hope
and faith.

God as I see Him
doesn't promise comfort. He asks for growth.

He gives strength
to stay the course
when the waters get rough.

He doesn't hand out blessings. He asks that we earn them.

I've seen hard times and these aren't them.

These are the best days I've ever known.

These days were earned. These days are mine.

For that I am grateful
beyond measure.