Emily Howard, Writer

Friends, it has been a looong time since I wrote in this blog. A hot minute. Ages and ages. A month of Sundays. Way too long, in fact. Things get in the way of writing, like life and, for me, insecurity. But I am feeling it today, so aren’t you glad?? If you are one of my die hards who actually read these things, are you just so excited?? I know you are. Welcome back, I’ve missed you.

There are so many things in this glorious, terrible and crazy amazing world that I want and need to write about (my brain has SO MANY WORDS, you guys, you just don’t know), but the main reason I dusted off the old WordPress is because today marks my nine-year sober anniversary. Yes, that’s right, last night nine years ago I took the last drink of my life.

Let’s take a brief stroll down memory lane, shall we? Watch your step, it’s dark and muddy with lots of potholes.

I remember it very clearly. I had started sipping beer in the early afternoon, like usual, while sitting on the back porch smoking and watching some show or another on my laptop and waiting for my littles to be home from school. Then on this day, like many days, when the beer ran out I looked through the cabinets to see what might keep my buzz going. Ah, there–that half bottle of whiskey will do just fine.

Later in the afternoon, I became very hungry and knew the kids would need some dinner. So I drove to McDonald’s. I don’t remember if I took the kids with me. I really hope not, but if I didn’t they stayed at home by themselves. So either way very not good. Thankfully the worst thing that happened on that trip was that I took the turn in the drive-thru too sharply and scraped red paint all down the side of my car.

Fast forward a couple of hours to when my husband got home. I had sobered up a bit, or so I thought. He saw the paint. I made up some BS excuse but it was painfully obvious to him what was going on, because it had been going on for a long time. I went inside, took a hot bath, posted some mopey song lyrics on facebook. Those lyrics pop up on my facebook memories every year and I love them. They mark the end of an era.

I didn’t mean to make this short story so long, but I guess I needed to make very clear the sharp contrast between where I was and where I am now. I do not know what finally made it click that night. I really don’t. I’ve tried to explain it to others who are struggling, and the best I can do is that one day it can and will stick. You might try a thousand times to quit whatever it is that is hurting you. Don’t give up. It might take one thousand and one. I think people see the deep divide between where they are and where they want to be and think it’s impossible to breach. It’s not. But you won’t get there with a giant leap. You will get there by building a strong bridge, slowly and painstakingly.

My immense gratitude to God and those who loved and supported me have helped shape who I am today. No one is past saving. The difference between that homeless guy on the street corner and the man in the business suit who ignores him is a few bad choices and lack of support. You are not better than that person. Grace puts us all on the same level. I think the world would be a much better place if more of us understood that.

And if you are struggling and taking even the smallest steps forward, this is me standing up and applauding you as hard as I can. Baby steps are still steps. Keep finding places where you can shine a light into the darkness. It doesn’t have to be a big spotlight, not at first, it can be a tiny match. But it will light the way for someone else, which in turn will make yours brighter. And brighter and brighter until we are all shining together. Reach out. Show love. Paint a painting. Take a walk in the woods. Let a puppy cover your face with kisses.

There is beauty here. Strike a match and go find it.

And in case you were wondering, the song lyrics were Mumford and Sons: