Wednesday, November 26, 2014

Thanksgiving blessings

Imagine going to sleep, waking up and finding out you killed somebody. 

That's exactly what happened to me. 

Five years ago, I was drunk and fell asleep at the wheel. I'm not trying 

to make excuses.

But I never ever would have done such a thing on purpose. And if there were 

some way I could go back and change it, I would. 

In fact, I've been sober ever since.

Now I'm paying for my crime by being incarcerated two weeks a year 

for the next 10 years.

This blog follows my journey afterward, trying to put my life back together 

in between spending a week in jail at Christmas and at Father's Day each year.

...

Some five years after the accident,  blessings surround me.

I am so grateful for my life, in recovery,  for the love I am consistently shown, for

becoming a person who can hold her head high and who can be proud again.

I have worked so hard to right the wrongs,  to forgive myself,  to educate others.

...

A court hearing this summer nearly broke my spirit.  I had asked to have

my jail time suspended, for unsupervised probation and to get my license

reinstated. The judge granted the latter;  and it was clear to me that in some

people's eyes I would always be a drunk in a blackout, who ran a man down

and kept going.


The truth is that I did that terrible thing, but I haven't been that woman in a long,

long time.  I have stood before countless groups of high schoolers,  would-be

alcohol and drug counselors and even mothers who lost their children because

of drugs and alcohol.


I have owned this tragedy from the get-go and consistently for years. Although

some may never forgive me,  I will not let that break me. I will not stop trying to

be a better person, and in so doing, become better able to help another alcoholic

and my fellow man.

...

Today,  I sponsor women,  to teach them how the steps and more importantly

having a relationship with a higher power can help you stay sober,  one day at

a time.


On the anniversary of the accident this year,  I shared my story with incarcerated

women in Sumner County. Many identified.  Some came up and thanked me for

inspiring them to start over, to learn from their mistakes and not to let their pasts

define them.


I nearly always share in meetings,  to encourage people in recovery, to provide

support and hope. I have a sponsor, and I stay in touch. I feel grateful to be

someone who is considered one of the people who walk the walk in recovery.

...

I have always felt love and acceptance in recovery.  No one made me feel

like I was different, or that I was beyond help because I had a drunk driving

accident that killed someone.


My sponsor, sponsees, role models in recovery and friends have helped me

and loved me just like a family would.


In fact,  it was in a meeting where I found the love of my life.

...

I met him one evening at a clubhouse.  He listened as I shared.  I paid attention

when he shared too;  and was instantly attracted to everything about him.


We kept seeing each other at the same meetings.


At one in particular, we sat directly across from one another,  for weeks and then

months.


Under a flickering,  fluorescent light,  I fell in love with the beautiful boy across

the table.

...

It took a few months for us to get together .


First, it was because he was dating other people. And then one day, he was gone.


I tried to move on, to get over the connection and attraction. Nearly three months

passed, before I began dating someone else briefly.


...

When he came back into my life, it was so clear to me it, whatever

it was, was still there.


When he made amends, my heart opened back up to him.  Within days,

we were together for real and in love.


More than seven months have passed,  and we're still together.  I've

never been happier, more in love and at peace.

...

In 2012, I broke up with my boyfriend of 12 years. Two months later,

he died.  I thought I'd never be happy again.


Still,  I trudged on, and stayed sober.


Nearly two years later, my angel kissed me for the first time. He is

an amazing, role model in recovery and the best man I've ever been

privileged enough to love.

...

It's a good life.  I can sleep tonight knowing I do my best; I am sober;

and my Mike loves me.

And for that, I am truly thankful.































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katrina at 8:08 PM
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katrina
I am an award-winning writer with a new mission: to educate people about the consequences of drinking an driving.
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Sunday, November 16, 2014

Grief and emotions in recovery


Imagine going to sleep, waking up and finding out you killed somebody. 

That's exactly what happened to me. 

Three years ago, I was drunk and fell asleep at the wheel. I'm not trying to make excuses.

But I never ever would have done such a thing on purpose. And if there were some way I could go back and change it, I would. 

In fact, I've been sober ever since.

Now I'm paying for my crime by being incarcerated two weeks a year for the next 10 years.

This blog follows my journey afterward, trying to put my life back together in between spending a week in jail at Christmas and at Father's Day each year.

My grandmother,  Clara Marie Cornwell,  died early yesterday.

She was the graceful, soft-spoken matriarch of the family,  the glue that held us all together, anything you could ever ask for in a grandparent.

I am reeling from this devastating loss.

Through the hills and valleys of grief,  I walk sober through the pain.

I want it to end. I don't want to feel. I never wanted this day to come; it's like someone reached inside me and ripped out my inner child to leave a wandering, bleeding mess of an adult who doesn't know how to live in a world without the one person who always, always loved her unconditionally.

And on top of that someone else stood over my wounds today with a can of Morton's salt,  seasoning my misery.

...

I had to set a boundary today with someone I love, someone who wanted it done her way, someone who added insult to injury,  someone who hurt me in a time of grief and pain.

It was not easy. It was not fun.

Somehow I know things between us are never going to be the same. That hurts too.

As I ponder the day's events, I know I can still rest knowing I did nothing to stomp on anyone's feelings today.

I didn't lash out in my grief or retaliate when verbally accosted.

Today,  I know resentments can kill me. They can make me drink or take drugs, and nothing in this world is worth a drink or a drug.

...

My heart is still breaking over grandma's death. She is dead;  and I haven't even buried her yet.

Somehow,  I got tangled up in something far less important today.

So,  from here on out,  I've decided that nothing negative, no person,  place or thing is going to rob me of my proper time to grieve.

...

My grandma was a saint.

She helped me emotionally,  giving me refuge as a child who was verbally abused.

She built my self esteem and showed me what it was to love someone without bounds.

She was always there on my birthday.

She put my daughter through preschool.

She helped me countless times financially.

She was a constant source of light and hope in my life and always told me how proud she was of me.

And for these next days,  until she's laid to rest,  she will have my undivided attention.

She will always have my love.

















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