When I was in my early 20’s, I decided one day that I wasn’t getting enough life experience and booked a ticket to New Zealand for the summer. I had no money, but I did have a pen pal there that had invited me to stay so off I went into the great unknown. It was an amazing trip – in addition to spending time with my friend, I worked on an avocado farm, stayed at hostels, worked in a coal mine, travelled through both the north and south islands, and made friends that I keep in contact with to this day.
One memory I will never forget is the day I went Bungy Jumping. This was something on my bucket list, and I’d done a ton of research about the best company to work with and their safety record – the one I chose having had zero fatalities/accidents.
Having paid my fees, I slowly walked across the bridge to the platform. Two good looking young men strapped my feet and ankles into the bungy device, my weight obviously displayed on the back of my hand in permanent marker so the jump crew knew exactly how to maneuver the settings for optimal excitement without me plummeting into the freezing waters below.
They began to count backwards from three. Two. One……
I froze. In fairness, I’m looking down from Kawarau Bridge about 150 feet to my certain death and I wasn’t sure this was a great item to place on my Bucket List after all.
They counted down again. Nothing.
I asked if they could push me off – they said no, legally I had to do it on my own.
They counted down a third time and again, I just stood there staring down. The two men started to tell jokes and offered to sing American country western music. This went on for about twenty minutes. I don’t really remember that – but I do remember that something in my brain shifted. One of the operators noticed it, too – he held his hand up to silence the second guy and then started to count backwards.
Three…..two…..one…..
I jumped.
I jumped from the platform and screamed the entire time as I fell and bounced back upwards. I don’t remember anything after jumping off until I was safely in the boat below, adrenaline pumping – anxious to run all the way back up the mountain and do it again. Fortunately, two busses of Japanese tourists had arrived just in time to record my plight – and having survived, they all ran to get in line for their turn. The video is amazing to watch – I’m really proud of that moment.
The point of this story is – I couldn’t do it until I was ready. So when you ask me, “Why now?” the only response I can give you is, “I’m ready to jump.”
I’ve hurt enough people, I’ve made enough mistakes, I’ve pissed away more hours than I can count that I can never recover. Life is so short, and there is so much left I have to do. I’m standing on that platform rethinking the choices that brought me to this moment and with a strange bout of clarity, I can say, “Let’s do this.”
I know it’s not something that I can do alone – I know it’s not something that I can continue to hide from friends and family. I wouldn’t judge anyone for how they orchestrate their sobriety, I can only tell you that FOR ME, I needed people to know that I’m choosing this path because I DON’T want the cancer to return. I DON’T want to further disrupt or destroy the amazing friendships I have or alienate my family members, who have watched me struggle for years.
At Alcoholic Anonymous meetings, people always talk about hitting rock bottom before they turned their lives around – so I waited for it because I knew I wasn’t anywhere near the rock bottom. I haven’t had any DUIs, I don’t drink at work, the end of my marriage turned out to be a good thing for both of us – I never had that level of despair that others speak about. I don’t have tremendous feelings of shame and guilt – primarily because I black out after 2 drinks, and I literally remember nothing the next morning.
I’m sure my best friend thought about walking away. I know my sister stopped speaking to me on at least one occasion because I was drinking too much. Relationships were affected but not destroyed - there wasn’t any ONE significant event that changed my brain and led me to this decision, it was the culmination of many factors.
Had I not chosen to take this step now, how would my life be six months from now? My guess is that I’d probably be another 10 pounds heavier and I’d be isolating myself even more from friends for the sake of staying home to drink. I’d cancel social events, make excuses for missing local festivals that sound like fun, and probably continue to struggle financially to make ends meet despite the fact that I have a great job.
Perhaps my best friend would have had enough of my lies and deception and would have moved away – maybe I would have disappointed my sister again by not being there when she needed a listening ear and sober advice – perhaps I would have taken that fourth fall and not been as lucky as I have been, and I’d be laying in a coffin underground. There’s a good chance I’d have been arrested for driving under the influence – something I’ve always sworn that I’ve never done, only to discover that I may have been driving with unsafe blood alcohol levels without realizing it. I don’t know.
I do know I wouldn’t be as clear headed as I feel today – I wouldn’t be achieving levels of productivity that are unheard of in the past few years (at home AND at work) – I couldn’t be waking up early ready to hit the day with energy, focus and optimism. I wouldn’t be taking strong PROACTIVE measures to be around for the weddings of my nieces and nephews (who are my joy). The clarity of what I have to gain helps – it doesn’t take away the cravings, or the instinct to stop and pick up a bottle – but it definitely reminds my brain of the rewards of GOOD decisions.
So to say it’s going to be easy moving forward would be a lie – but it’s most definitely going to be worth it to stick around for the joy and adventures ahead. I'm ready.
Three.....
Two.....
One.....
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