Today feels much different than the majority of days I have had in a very long time. I actually jumped out of bed with enthusiasm, ready to start my day, and with a strong desire to keep up the momentum. The first thing I always do is go for the coffee, good or bad day. I then sprinted for my laptop with hopes of finding “likes” and “Comments” waiting so patiently for me on the pages of one of my few ongoing projects, Word press, GlamChest, and most importantly (only because that is where my close friends and family are) Facebook. In the mist of my splendor, I realized I hadn’t thought about my medicine (the one I am on for the maintenance program). It was so nice to finally wake up and not be worried about getting a fix, to get well, in an ignorant hope of having a good day. When realistically, I may feel better for an hour and the rest of the day is repeating the hunt, for a fix, like clockwork. In my drug addicted fog, when contemplating getting sober, I could never imagine recovery feeling this good. I would listen to other’s talk about how much better they were feeling about themselves, how great life is, and how happy they are to be clean. I didn’t think I would feel any kind of happiness being sober, let alone be content with everyday life. As time went by and life was beginning to get impossible to manage, I started considering sobriety except I wasn’t strong enough mentally to make a concrete decision. I ran into my old friend and she told me about the support that is available. Eventually, I noticed that the more I allowed myself to think about getting clean, the more it grew in my heart, and became more and more dire to me. Lying in my bed on many dark and lonely nights, I remember the guilt of my addiction weighing heavy on me. I would have convince myself just to say a short prayer, asking God to take this burden from me, asking Him to restore my heart and mind. During these times of feeling hopeless, I also couldn’t help but feel empty and thought of my prayers the same. Empty. I had been so tired of hoping for forgiveness because I could no longer feel forgiven in my heart. I would try to feel remorse, forcing tears from my eyes, and pushing my guilt through the knot in my throat. I had no release from the feeling of being damned, even though I knew the truth in my heart and mind, it’s like my spirit had become weak because of my spiritual absence and being turned away. That always makes it harder to turn back to where you were, you have to find your way back through faith. This is where my patience is going through a growth spurt.