Sunday Morning

I use to love the song, about waking up on a Sunday morning, with no way to hold my head up – having a beer for breakfast and dessert. Not having any clean clothes and stumbling through the day. I related.

Sunday’s were bad. It took me years to surrender to a Sunday. The sidewalks roll up. The only drug deals on a Sunday are a rip off. Such as, puchasing a twenty dollar piece of soap.

Today, is bright, but with clouds off in a distance. It rained this morning and washed my yard. The light on the grass and flower garden glowed. Once again, my purple tulips have come back to life.

Kind of like myself, when I quit drinking.

That was 30 years and 9 months ago.

I had to do many thing to achieve this sobriety, however, the most consistent thing that I have done is to not give in to a drink. Some people have a deep belief that this is unimportant.

I had to learn to let my family’s philosophies on life, go by the wayside. They were dragging me down. I had to quit comparing myself to others, and I had to mind my own business. I had to learn to accept myself for who I am. It all sounds quite simple. but it was not particularly easy. I have had to be diligent.

It’s just another day.

Today I was erasing messages on my Facebook. I ran across a scalding note from a friend,  who descended into the darkness and took her life. It was the typical tirade of a self absorbed person.

I remain detached.

When a person is drowning they will frantically attach themselves, to the person trying to assist; bringing them both into the danger zone.

All I know is, I do not have the answers, other than those shared with me, by people who seemed to care. They spoke, and I absorbed their words, as if I were a sponge.

I don’t take all of this lightly.

Rarely have we seen a person fail.

My life is out of the hands of a fool and fools.

I’m talking to you.

Can you hear me?