Nine months, they call it the full term because I could have had a kid in the same amount of time. Still, I can’t believe it’s been nine months since I had a drink and checked into rehab. It’s one of those things you thought you would never get to, like six months, three months or thirty days. In my addiction I couldn’t go nine minutes, let alone nine months without a drink and so many times I felt like I would never get there. It took forever just to reach thirty days, and yet somehow nine months is here much sooner than I thought it would ever be.
A friend at a recovery meeting told me I had put a lot of work into staying sober. Sometimes it feels like I haven’t accomplished much; that my life is still a train wreck (and in a lot of ways it is). But I now have something that I thought I would never have before. Nine months of sobriety. A miracle in and of itself.
It’s like what one writer in recovery I met at Comic-Con said. “You know what comes next?” he asked? I didn’t know where he was going. “Ten months. The double digits, and then eleven months and then a year!” Which somewhat blew my mind to even think about. Not to rest on my laurels or put the cart ahead of the horse. I still have to do the deal to stay sober, but nine months is nine months, and that is far more then I could have ever dreamed of at one point in time.
So sure, things aren’t great right now, but like they say, my worst day sober is better than my best day drunk, and I will take that any day. One day I will get there, ten months, then eleven and then that glorious year. But for now I’ll enjoy nine months, after all, today is all I got, so I should make it count.