Day 165 - Recovery Story

Recovery Story

Matthew Ryan Fischer

“Who are we today?” asked the man in the mirror.

“Who do we want to be?” replied the reflection.

Jeremiah looked at himself. He didn’t like what he saw. There were times he barely recognized his own face. His cheeks and forehead were flushed. He had dark rings under his tired and bloodshot eyes. He had a wrinkled brow and crow’s feet. He was looking tired. He was looking old. He was abusing his body and the elasticity of youth was long gone, and now his body easily showed the damage.

Jeremiah sat by himself and thought about his life.

Usually after a loss or a failure Jeremiah liked to collect his thoughts with a bottle of brandy and a fine cigar. Neither one of those actually helped him forget the loss or fix the failure, but they surely dulled the edges and made the background chatter quieter by a notch or two. He had been sober for forty-two days straight. He wasn’t counting, or at least that was what he told himself. He was counting. He knew exactly when his last drink had been and why it had been his last drink.

Jeremiah went to the meetings but he didn’t do the steps. He didn’t think he had to. He didn’t really care enough. He thought he was getting some partial benefit from just thinking about things more often. That was okay. Not great, but okay. He was getting some benefit, no matter how small. And he felt absolution. Jeremiah wasn’t particularly Catholic, but he did believe in the healing power of confession. He felt a weight removed and a great sense of clarity.

Jeremiah didn’t know where his car was. He woke up half dressed on the floor of his bathroom. He couldn’t remember half of last night or how he got home.

Jeremiah stumbled up the stairs.

Jeremiah passed out in his neighbor’s yard.

Jeremiah tripped as he tried to walk down the street.

Jeremiah fell off his barstool.

Jeremiah ordered another drink.

Jeremiah was used to extreme highs and lows. He chased extreme highs and lows. He missed the feeling of extreme highs and lows. Now he always just felt dull, ordinary and comfortably mellow. He had been fasting for two days and before that he had been on an all natural diet and had finished a recent colon cleanse. He had gone to a church seeking solace and redemption and instead sat and listened to the pain and suffering of others. He didn’t know if he had a soul, but he felt his must be pretty dark. He didn’t know how to clean it and he didn’t know who to ask.

Jeremiah was a big talker with big dreams. His dreams were usually forgotten by the end of the night and the bottom of the bottle. He had a lot of talk, but was short on results. He had a lot of dreams, but lacked the motivation. He was short on strength, courage, discipline and a few other qualities as well.

Jeremiah looked at himself in the mirror. He thought about the bottle. He thought about the things he always said he was interested in doing, about the type of man he always thought about being. He always thought about doing great things. He hadn’t really done any of them. But he always thought about doing them. He used to think that was enough. He still thought that might mean something. He always thought he would get around to doing them. He still might. He looked in the mirror. He looked at the bottle. He didn’t know what he was waiting for.