Earlier this year we found out that our dog, Dash, had toe cancer. When the biopsy came back, we were told that the vet needed to amputate his left front inside toe. Fortunately, she performed the surgery and got it all. He is good as new. At first, he had a little trouble going up stairs just figuring out which foot to start with first, but he figured it out, step by step. We were worried he would have trouble walking, but he barely missed a beat. He hadn’t really noticed. Dogs are so adaptable and he was no exception.
I woke one morning some weeks later, to find my “days of sobriety” number that my husband makes for me every day, sitting on the counter by my coffeemaker. It was day 6,770. On the back was one of my more favorite stickers—dog paws. When my husband greeted me, he pointed to the little paper number and said, “How’d you like the back? Too soon?”
I hadn’t noticed, but on the sticker, he had cut out the pad of Dash’s missing toe. It was so precious, thoughtful, creative and funny—so like my husband to think of that.
It made me ponder on how it was a lot like my early sobriety when I woke every morning not drinking anymore. It often felt like a part of me had been amputated. I had to learn to live without alcohol that had been part of me for so long.
I learned to adapt, just like my dog. Turns out, he didn’t need that toe to keep walking.
Turns out I didn’t need alcohol to keep living my life—I was adapting.
Changing. Putting new behaviors in place to help me thrive without alcohol. Just stopping wasn’t enough. Just like Dash, it took me a while to figure it out, but step by step, day by day, it was working. I was thriving. Finding new ways to cope. Meetings. Connecting with others. Praying to God for strength to navigate this new life without alcohol.
Learning how to have fun again—be funny again. Enjoying being at a party with others who are drinking and not having to drink. Feeling my feelings of joy or sadness without having to act out on my mind-numbing behavior of drinking alcohol. Having a meaningful conversation with someone without being nervous and then being able to remember it later. All so new and so rewarding finding out it was possible to live without alcohol.
The key was to keep showing up each day and experiencing that I could do this life without alcohol. It gave me the encouragement to keep going. If I can do this, so can you.
As the long version of the serenity prayer says, “…Living one day at a time, enjoying one moment at a time. Accepting hardship as a pathway to peace…”
I’d like to encourage you to try it.
One-day-at-a-time.
One-step-at-a-time.
Just like Dash and I did :))))
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