Mysterious Ways
In the before and after of my sobriety, my worldview recalibrated. The things I care about changed. What was abstract to me then are now actual things I consider: values, family, love, God. And Starbucks lattes. Amen.
So, when I look around and see the minutia, I think, “People still care about this? We’re still fighting over that?” It’s one of the benefits no one promised me, but it just might be the best one.
In place of some of the bullshit is this recognition of small miracles.
On a random September night in 2022, I was rocking in my bed. I was in hell. The feeling of desperation was so consuming I couldn’t lie down. I could not sit still. I wanted to peel off my skin and disappear. The wine wasn’t helping.
Rocking, rocking, rocking thinking, “What do I need? What do I need?”
I needed to feel better. My chaotic, spiraling mind made spitfire suggestions: You need to publish something. Something BIG. With a big headline. You need an award. Yes! An award that you could post on Facebook so everyone knows you’re important.
Maybe if everyone else thought I had value, I could feel it. Maybe the praise would be loud enough to pierce that deep darkness. Maybe I’d be able to hear it.
But I knew it wasn’t enough.
A voice spoke to me so clearly that it stopped me from rocking. “You need to stop drinking.”
The room got so quiet that even the noise in my head stopped. I was still. It was my own voice. It was Sensitive Girl calling out to me from someplace inside me that was still alive. I listened to her. It was September 15th, 2022. The date of the last time I drank.
It’s no secret that I struggle with the concept of God. It’s one of the things I thought would keep me from being able to ever claim sobriety or adhere to a program of recovery. I wanted to skip that step, except it turns out, that’s the whole thing.
In those first shaky days without drinking, I didn’t worry about it. I just did what I was told. I did not drink. I passed time. And that was enough.
Eventually, I knew I had to find some kind of higher power. I never considered myself an atheist, but my idea of God was something I always put off thinking about for another day. He was there, but we didn’t really acknowledge each other. I didn’t go to church. I didn’t pray unless one of my kids was hurting or I was cold and needed the train to come faster. If I was to tell you the truth, I would admit that I figured God wouldn’t really bother with me if he knew me. Deep down, I was selfish. I was jealous. I was lazy. And I was weak. So, I didn’t invite the thought of him because I didn’t want to hold that mirror up to myself and face it.
Also, when I was getting sober, the idea of a male authority figure that I would give my control over to was unappealing. I’d been doing that my entire life, with awful and terrifying consequences. I didn’t want to face that either.
And then in a workshop, this guy Jimmy mentioned casually that God could reflect anybody I wanted. It was like a backdoor entrance into a club I was never allowed to go into. It made sense to me for the first time.
I sat in my car, closed my eyes and thought about someone I could hand over the reins to, someone whose authority I could respect and who I felt could accept my selfish, jealous, lazy, weak self. Someone strong.
Lyrics came into my head, clear as day, and loud as hell. “If he don’t love you anymore, then walk your fine ass out the door.” Lizzo. In my moment of need, Lizzo appeared to me. Yes, this 47-year-old suburban mom found God in a parking lot.
And she was glorious.