Jenifer Madson - Living the Promises: Coming to Life on the Road to Recovery

When I got sober, just shy of my twenty-fourth birthday, the last thing I felt was the freedom and happiness that the promises speak of. I was sick: not just physically sick from the amount of chemicals in my system, but soul-sick, completely bereft of a sense of spirit or purpose beyond finding a way to meet the day's craving.

I remember very little about my first 12-Step meeting beyond crying and shaking so hard I could barely hold on to the cup of really bad coffee I was given. I certainly couldn't fathom why the people who gave me that coffee and then helped me find a seat would have any interest whatsoever in caring for the wreck I had become.

But I let them lead me nonetheless, because I had reached the very bottom of my particular hell.

I wasn't a skid-row drunk. I was a middle-class, puke-every-morning-until-I-could-get-the-day's-first-drink-to-stay-down, off-to-the-races-for-the-day-and-night kind of drunk. I was quite a functional alcoholic actually, which confused and worried my family, friends, and employers all the more because they couldn't grasp how I could be so messed up and still show up for thingsmostly on time and ready to do what was called for at any given moment.

That doesn't mean I was any good at anything. Quite the contrary, I was just good enough to give everyone a glimpse of some greater potential, just good enough to compel everyone to keep me around; just good enough to get by.

So nobody saw any need to intervene with me because I stayed one tenuous step ahead of any real consequences ofmy addictions. I mixed my chemicals in a way that had me up when I needed to be up, down when I needed to come down, and completely wasted when that's what it took to keep up with the people I ran with. For years, I chose to associate with only the people, places, and professions that I could manipulate to support my addictions. In the end, I drank and drugged because I couldn't not drink or do drugs. I drank and used whether it was sunny or rainy, life was good or not so good, because it was Tuesday or because it wasn't.

All along, deep inside me, I knew something was wrong, that how I interacted with alcohol and drugs wasn't right or good or normal. I just didn't know what to do about it.

In this book, I tell my story of recovery, as suggested by our 12-Step programs: I will tell you what it was like, what happened, and what it is like now, not with drunkalogues to convince you of my qualifications, but with stories, sayings and strategies that might help you or someone you know get sober, stay sober, and live a life of joy.

That is my life today. It's not a perfect one, but it is a joyous one, because no matter what is happening on any given day, I never lose sight of the amazing blessing of my sobriety; the incredible freedom it gives me to be who I want to be, to go where I want to go, and to serve others in ways I had never imagined. I know that reaching out in this way gives me yet another day of peace.

FOR THAT, AND FOR SO MUCH MORE, I AM GRATEFUL.