A Trying Day

It’s been two full days since my trial started.  Now, my trial is going to continue in December.  There just wasn’t enough time to get all the evidence needed and the lawyers to do their lawyer stuff in that first day.  The fact that other cases got dropped into the middle of the trial didn’t help either.

I won’t lie – it was hard to be there.  To watch myself on video on the day of my arrest and seeing the state I was in wasn’t fun.  Especially in a room of people who are judging me (they are, it’s not an emotional thing that I need to do a 10th step on or anything).  Or at least one person is…the judge.   It was also hard to hear how people described me – flush of face, glassy eyed, vague recollections, sleepy, etc.  It was like having my mask of anonymity and isolation just ripped off of me.  I was vulnerable and reliving one of the worst moments in my life recounted detail by painful detail.

Having said that, I found that I certainly did not want to drink.  It wasn’t until later that I thought about it.  To go through that and still not even have the thought cross my mind…that was new, considering how uncomfortable I was.  I mean, I needed a drink just to answer the phone or write a note or talk to the water meter reader.  So it was quite remarkable to me that it didn’t cross my mind.

One of the most powerful things was in watching me, it felt like I was watching a stranger.  I felt sorry for him. I was looking at someone who looked and sounded like me, but wasn’t me.  It was the old me.  The one I buried, and continue to bury, when I got sober.  It’s like when they say that everytime I got to a meeting, I die a little.  The death of self, to let God in.  I felt that feeling that I was watching a dead man walking his last walks.  And the powerful thing was realizing that to get to where I was right now, I had to go through that pain and suffering as the old me.  It was that bridge I had to cross.  Or at least one of the final bricks in the bridge.  The last drunk after that (there was only one) was certainly the last nail in that bridge.

And here I am now.  Watching the old me operate, struggle, lost, dazed…in the same body, but a different spirit.

So regardless of the trial’s outcome, I remain intact.  I remain whole.  I remain the new self that God has given grace to, and one who serves Him.  I am at peace.




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