June 1st will mark 3.5 years since I poured a vodka over ice in a rocks glass. Haven’t had one, haven’t poured one I don’t even think I’ve held a bottle in my hand in that time. I can jump ahead a few days now I’m not concerned at this time about falling off the wagon. In fact I no longer ride the wagon or any other vessel that may hit a bump. There are no bumps for me right now I can confidently say vodka rarely even enters my mind.

I’m healing

My body feels good. For the long kitchen shifts on his feet, burns, cuts and three decades of his back holding steady on perpetually bottom dollar footwear, my body is at ease. No more 6 mile trail runs in between work shifts, trying to bust PRs up Paris Mountain, knees jarring on the downhills. His sciatica would get so inflamed he couldn’t bend his leg at the knee. Carpel tunnel from blade work and clicking tongs, flipping proteins over a fire. Shaking the oil off of fry baskets like a dog that just jumped out of the lake.

My back and hands don’t hurt like his used to. I can touch my toes now. My joints have made peace with me.

I’m healing

Depression guided his life and decisions for years. Chaos was his mantra. Self destructive behavior he wore like a badge of honor. Busy shifts where things would fall apart he threw myself into the foray taking punches in the gut while his fingers jammed holes in the leaking dam. He did it because he felt like he had to. It was a part of him.

That attitude that came with it. It was just a shield to protect me from me.

I’ve learned to focus on harmony now. The bitterness he used to have, built up enough to have its own space to reside in his head. It’s clearing out. I don’t think on the ones that hurt me anymore. They have nothing to do or relate to the person writing this now.

He never smiled much but boy do I.

I’m healing.

I refer to the old me as a separate entity. When I wrote a little yesterday I felt compelled to put him away for good. Not bury him, not slam the door in his face, not push him off a cliff because he’s me.

And man it felt good to do so. Don’t underestimate the power of your own words.

We was me. He taught me everything I know. He bore the brunt of my existence up until recently. He was my armor I no longer need.

So no I’m not burying him I’m putting him on my mental mantle to celebrate his life but move on. He did his best to keep me safe until he no longer needed to.

Not sure when we separated in fact it might’ve been just yesterday or maybe even today as I write it out ceremoniously. I just felt like it was a good time to get it out. I’ve been hanging on to the smallest part just for nostalgia reasons. Sort of like that old favorite shirt that’s just too tattered to regard anymore.

Can’t release him into the wild though he only needs quiet and peace. Thats what I’m going to give him.

I got this now bud. You can rest.

You’re healed now.