Saturday morning/afternoon: I wake up late because I don't have anywhere to be, anything to do. I know I do not want to sit and try spending time with God, so I don't. I know I want to drink, I've been seeing it everywhere - watching shows with excessive drinking, hearing people talk about it, going home where I used to do it all the time. I go to my sister's house and she sees how mopey I am - says I can use their truck, because I didn't have my car (brother borrowed it). I finally agreed, but still, all day I think about whether or not drinking is a possibility. I think of how I could make it happen, where I would go, what mode of transportation I could use, what I would tell everyone about where I was, how I would cover my tracks, how I could guarantee not get too fucked up, not get pulled over, not get arrested, not get in trouble. I thought about buying some beer and drinking at home... by myself, that would be pointless - the whole point is to get out of feeling alone, but if I had no other option, I could at least get out of feeling in general. But... these days when I try to do that, it doesn't work. I'd have to get so fucked up that I'm out of my mind in order to stop feeling, in order to ignore God, his Spirit in me telling me over and over "I love you. You're not alone. I'm so proud of you. You can make it. I love you. I love you. I love you. I'm enough."
Saturday evening: I go to the mall to exchange a shirt and spend a couple hours finding the cheapest of the cheap so I can spread the store credit as thin as possible. It's awesome - I like shopping, like walking around looking at stuff, like buying stuff... especially free stuff. Then my brother-in-law says his family's going to Chick-fil-a for dinner and asks me to join. I meet them there and thoroughly enjoy dinner and hanging out. He says we could catch a movie if I wanted to, but I didn't respond with much enthusiasm because I knew that would squelch any possibility of going out that night. I feel bad, but it sounds like he doesn't have time anyway. So I go home, feed my dogs and think. I can't stay here.
Saturday night: it's always weird when I'm craving alcohol. Every time, I get in the car and drive around for an hour or so. Part of me is trying to make myself have the courage to actually go to a bar and drink, and the other part of me is telling myself to wait it out, just drive around, as my mind searching through nearly empty databases thinking of some kind of sober fun. I text a friend, she doesn't respond. I ask my roommate if she wants to get coffee with me, she can't.
I keep driving. I drive around Baylor, past a bar that I've driven past probably 20 times and never entered. I have my phone playing Pandora, and I click to change the song, but accidentally click "shuffle stations." I see the title of the song coming on and know I need to change it if I'm going to be able to drink tonight, but my heart starts aching within me, craving something besides alcohol, craving affection.
The song is "Closer" by Bethel. "Draw me a little closer, take me a little deeper. I want to know your heart. I want to know your heart, because your love is so much sweeter than anything I've tasted. I want to know your heart. I want to know your heart." AH! it aches. My heart aches so badly; a tender, deep, thick ache, almost soothing, while deeply painful, but the words and melody draw ties from my soul to my emotions. I cry, knowing what I really want - not alcohol, but friendship... I want not to be alone. As it plays, I feel I have a choice to make, and if I make the right choice, I can draw from this well of love. Then I hear my Papa say, "You can go drink and I'll keep playing my love song to you. The song doesn't stop if you make a bad choice." I cry some more. I don't want to take advantage of his crazy grace for me - I want to use it to be better, but I'm aching and still longing for a taste of the world's remedies. "Woa-oh-oh. Woa-oh-oh. How great your love is for me. Woa-oh-oh. Woa-oh-oh. How great is your love."
I keep driving... around downtown, past tons of bars, tons of possibilities, but in my brother's truck, I'm afraid of someone seeing it. I park far away and decide to walk, but then I'm too embarrassed to get out and walk by myself down the streets of downtown Waco. I start the engine up again and drive down Austin Ave. "I'll go to Dichotomy." It's a place that has coffee and "spirits." I figure if the setting is right, there's a possibility of getting a drink there, but if it doesn't feel right, I can get coffee and sit there for a while. Then, if I feel like it, which I knew I would, I could go to a bar after - just walk down the street a couple blocks.
When I get there, I probably still look like I've been crying, but I order some drink I'd never heard of from some cute guy. I sit and look around, feeling a little stunned, a little on edge, afraid of what might happen later, whether in drinking or not. I think I'm more afraid of making the right choice, because it meant going home to sit under a broken, gushing dam of loneliness soaking through every fiber in me. I get my drink and download the NY Times crossword app, and work on it some, look around some, wait for my coffee to cool. The cute guy walks up, "How is it?" "Haven't tried it yet. It's too hot." He says something and smiles. I go back to my crossword puzzle. A little later, he walks up, "Whatcha doin?" "Crossword puzzle. It's the NY Times one." "Ah. I can't help you with that." He smiles again and walks off. Another guy asks how my drink is, I say it's good. I listen to a conversation happening in front of me, none of which I understand, because it's all in coffee-expert language. Nonetheless, I enjoy being with people and watching them. Later, another guy walks up, tells me his name, offers his hand, which I don't shake because I say I've already met him, which I have, but I still feel bad, because I didn't mean to be rude. He then says he could help me with any words I don't know, but I say there's like 80 I don't know so... Then he laughs and walks away. Obviously, I'm not the best at being friendly, but it was a rough day/night.
I stay for about an hour, sipping coffee, looking at all the people, smiling at their differences, their interactions, conversations, styles; the gentle flirting, the friendly gestures, the awkward responses. Then I start to feel like I've been there too long... so, while cute guy is occupied, I scoot my coffee to the edge of the counter and take off. I'm thinking of what I'll do next.
Again, I'm driving around. I drive all over Waco... down Washington, left on Waco Dr., left of Valley Mills, back to Baylor area, past that same bar I've passed 20 times, back to downtown, back past Dichotomy, down a side street, and I park, turn off the car, grab my stuff, then think, "Am I really gonna go drink right now?" I stop. I put the key back in, turn on the car, back up, and take off. As I near Waco Dr, I feel a release, like the craving, the weight, the longing, the aching stopped suddenly. Suddenly, I feel content to go home, get in my PJ's, turn on soft music, break out my paints, and add to the sloppy mess of a painting that I always add to when I'm craving alcohol. And that's what I do.
I hope that one day, it'll turn into an actual picture, an actual piece of art. What I really hope is that one day, it'll be beautiful; after layers and layers of ridiculous shapes and smears, one day it'll look like it had a purpose from the start.
This morning as I stand in church, the first song they sing says, "Mighty is the one within us. Mighty is the one who calls our name. He will make a way. He will make a way. For your love endures forever. Oh, your love endures forever. Open up our eyes. Surround us with your light. Your love endures forever. Our God is fighting for us always. Our God is fighting for us all." I stand and try to sing it, feeling like I just came home after war, victorious but tired. I feel sad, like I don't want to keep fighting. I don't want to go into another war, just after this one finally ended, but I know the song is true. After the sermon, my sister tells me she's been praying for me, feeling like it's so easy for God to give me everything I need. She prays for me to have belief in God, in who he is, in what he promises - that everywhere I place my foot, he has given to me. I thank her and hug her. It's exactly what I need.
I'm so weak, but what I keep hearing is, "When we're weak, He is strong." So, I guess it's OK to be weak, maybe even good, if I let Him be strong, and I think I'm learning how to do that. I want people to know my struggle. I want people to know that addiction is hard, and if it's been hard for a long time, and keeps being hard, that doesn't mean you're doing something wrong, or God isn't as real to you. It just means it's hard. Another phrase God always gives me is, "In this world, you will have trouble, but take heart, I have overcome the world."
I hope that one day, it'll turn into an actual picture, an actual piece of art. What I really hope is that one day, it'll be beautiful; after layers and layers of ridiculous shapes and smears, one day it'll look like it had a purpose from the start.
