“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” ~ Rumi
Waking up in a jail cell with little to no recollection of how you got there really isn’t anyone’s idea of a good time—okay, at least it’s not most people’s idea of a good time—yet thanks to living in active addiction for many years, I’ve managed to accomplish this feat on more than a few of occasions.
Today, I have more than a couple of years in sobriety, a first in my life since the age of fifteen. This isn’t my first time in recovery, though it’s definitely been the longest and most heart-centered attempt I’ve ever made. I’ve knocked on deaths door numerous times as a result of being an addict and spent more time in detoxes, rehabs, psychiatric hospitals and jails than I care to remember.
I was actually messaging with someone from my past recently, someone I hadn’t spoken with in quite a long time as a result of addiction and other circumstances. At one point she wrote, “I used to check the obituaries for you, Chris” and I didn’t even blink an eye at that statement.
For all intents and purposes, the way I was living should have killed me ten times over and yet, for whatever reason, I’m still here, I’m still alive, something so many addicts can’t say as they’ve lost their lives to this insidious disease.
I attribute the better part of these years in recovery to something I’m grateful to have finally learned, something I’d let slip through my ears at 12 Step Meetings for far too long, so I ask you to hear me when I say; the healing process (which goes for both addicts, and non-addicts alike) is always, always an inside job.