So many Sunday mornings when I was in active addiction, I would wake with a sense of dread. I’d feel hung and a little uneasy about what I had done the night before. There would be this wash of what can only be described as shame – and the overwhelming question, “What are you going to do with the rest of your life?”
I believe these sorts of “God Questions” happen only at 3 a.m. or when one’s eyes open on a censorious Sunday morning. I would run through my mind what I should do: lose 10 pounds, go to church, go for a run (I am not a runner in the best of times), call my mother, give my liver a rest… And more often than not, I would lay there for a minute and then I’d reach for the remains of last night’s glass of wine and start the process all over again. I have learned that in the late stages of my alcoholism, I didn’t really have a choice in the matter, even though I was stressed about my lack of motivation. My addiction was running the show…
So here I am on a cold Sunday morning, bright as a button and getting ready to drive up north to Sturgeon Bay and hike the trails along Lake Michigan. When I woke this morning, I was guiltless. There was nothing undone. Isn’t that incredible?
It’s Sunday morning, so I’ll say it, “Thank God for my wonderful life. Thank God for my sobriety.”
