我挂了电话，还在为最近的狂欢而迷迷糊糊。我的道歉总得有意义吧?它给人一种真诚和爱的感觉，就像前30次那样。“莫莉，我又病了。我很抱歉;我保证这次我会好起来的。”我也是认真的。我真的想变得更好——至少足够好。但我一次又一次滥用了“对不起”这个词。这三个字从我嘴里说出来现在已经没有意义了。 I hang up the phone, but she is all I can think about. Molly. How can I love her so much and be such a constant source of disappointment? God, I want a drink. I don’t want to hear her name in my thoughts, or to catch a glimpse of her beautiful face in my mind. It hurts too much. She is so perfect, and there is not one thing I have done right as her mother. How can she still utter the words “It’s okay mom, I love you?” I don’t deserve her love or her forgiveness. People ask “Do you want to stop drinking? What were you thinking when you picked up the first drink? Don’t you think about the kids before you take the first drink?”
这些问题随着我躺在医院的病床上徘徊，讨厌自己，想念我的孩子，感到完全和完全绝望。我应该打算喝酒。但我没有。当我陶醉的时候，我爱自己，当我不是时，我讨厌自己皮肤的感觉。我想要的是，当我在我有四个饮料时，觉得我的感受。我爱自己四个饮料。伏特加四次镜头，我是一个伟大的妈妈。四个饮料，我很有趣和可爱。焦虑消失了。我的思绪安静。没有喋喋不休，没有恐惧，没有人赏心悦目。 Just unapologetically me. Why can’t I stop at four, sober up, and then drink four more? I must perfect my drinking. Drink four, stop, wait an hour or two, repeat. So, no, I don’t think of Molly before I take the first drink. The pain of being sober takes over. I need that alcohol as quickly as possible merely to feel comfortable breathing and thinking. My mind tells me I will have four drinks and stop. It lies.
在伴随着排毒过程的绝望抑郁症期间，我的身体和思想首先把我放在这个医院床上的东西，因为我的心脏渴望被理解和接受。然而，这次是不同的。它好像增长是渗透的。这一次，我更关心莫莉，而不是我的下一杯。一个更破旧的承诺，我将永远失去我的小女孩。这并不像一种思想。我没有更多的机会。也许我在手机上听到了它的声音。也许我是根据我从酗酒母亲听到的故事的结论。或者，也许，只许，上帝现在在这个医院工作。 I am not ready to stop drinking. I would rather lose an arm or a leg than my bottle.但有些事情感觉不同。好像别的东西是指我的。我被击败了。我累了。我被打破了。我不想生活，但我不想死。所以我让上帝给我力量再试一次。为了活着和学习生活清醒的风险是吓坏了我的风险，要求我走向未知的旅程，面对我的恐惧，以某种方式信任，确实是不可能的。我必须相信上帝会恢复我的理智，为我提供一个值得生活的生活。我必须留在那戒酒床上，对康复说是。 So, I do. I stay, and I say yes, and I allow thoughts of Molly to fill my heart and kill the fearfulness. I walk through the painful guilt and shame, I grieve the loss of my best friend, and I vow to not drink just for today. With each of those todays, I have grown a little more – more courageous, spiritual, strong, and sober. With many of those days, I realized that for me, growth happened when I looked fear in the face and said fuck you. I no longer measure my best self in number of drinks. I now measure days and weeks and years instead. Four years of sobriety and the work has only just begun. My spiritual journey doesn’t have an ending, but it had a beginning. I began to grow the day I allowed Molly’s forgiveness to fill me up, and for that I am forever grateful.