I quit drinking on Halloween night, 2018. I had been a widower for eight months.
My drinking was getting more frequent and my intoxicated thoughts were getting darker. I was exhausted more and more often. My will to go on was waning.
The exhaustion finally broke the pattern. After my sons returned from trick or treating, I had only had a couple beers, but my tank was empty.
I didn’t pass out in bed so much as falling into a paralysis that drew me into unconsciousness. In that twilight before a dreamless sleep, I knew I had had my last drink.
It took seven weeks of sobriety for my mind to start working at a higher level. Once I was thinking clearly on a consistent basis, it took weeks more before I realized that I was an alcoholic. This difficult journey coincided with my first foray into romance as a widower. It may not have been the wisest to navigate these uncharted paths simultaneously, but they are inextricably woven.
My lover inspired me to look directly at my addiction and actively fight it. In turn, the vulnerability I gained may have frightened her away. She ended our romance on the week of the anniversary of Mary’s passing. It was sudden and heartbreaking. I was thrown back into confusion just as I thought I was finding clarity.
The next months brought deep healing. I prayed, read, wrote, and meditated daily. People forget the widowed after some time and I thrived in solitude.
In those months, I accepted God’s love and started to love myself. He never left and has been lifting me up since before I was a believer.
I never had a temptation after that Halloween night. I accidentally ingested tequila in a tincture once with no itch to have more. I don’t rail against drinking, but I have little interest in being around those who do. It never benefitted me and has no place in my life.
I am grateful every day for God’s Love and Word. They bolster me and inspire me to deeper healing, while still having compassion for my former patterns.