Last night, I couldn’t sleep. I was restless, with one thought stuck in my mind that I just couldn’t shake. I did everything I’ve been doing to manage my anxiety—I meditated in the morning, midday, and before bed—but the anxious thoughts kept coming, whispering negativity into my head.
Lately, my wife has been in a bad place, focusing on the negatives in each day, which only makes things worse for her. You can feel the anger and sadness radiating from her, and as often happens, the people closest to her—like me—are the ones who get the brunt of it. I’ve been trying to cheer her up, doing everything I can, but it never seems to be enough. She’s told me more than once, “You don’t do enough.”
Yesterday was rough. On top of everything, I got in trouble for arranging to meet my sponsor for coffee. My wife said, “You do too much of this recovery stuff. I need you, and I had plans for us this weekend.” That was it—silent treatment, tears, the whole “our relationship is over” speech. All because I took one hour for myself. And just to clarify, there were no plans she’d mentioned to me for the weekend.
Anyway, I’m rambling, and that’s not even what kept me up all night. The thought gnawing at me was, “Am I really becoming my true self, or am I just being someone else to make my wife and family happy?” My whole life, I’ve played different roles to fit in and feel accepted—basically, people-pleasing. It helped me avoid feeling different, and I could hide behind whatever character I was playing. But eventually, I lost myself in those roles, and the alcoholic version of me took over.
I was lost for so long that I forgot I was even lost. I just settled into that version of myself. Now, at eight and a half months sober, I’m on this journey to discover who I really am. But last night, my mind kept asking, “Is this really you, or just another character you’re playing to please others?”—except my wife, who doesn’t seem to like this version of me much. And that’s a tough question when you’re not sure of the answer. But after thinking it through, I told my mind to quiet down. Here’s where I’ve landed: if I wake up happy and grateful, live fully present throughout the day, watch my words and actions, be the kindest and most loving version of myself, and go to bed with a clear conscience, then I’m on the right track. If I review the day, make note of any mistakes or good choices, and most importantly, hit the pillow sober, then who I am in between really doesn’t matter as much, that bit is just my ego anyway. As long as I keep trusting in God and let him guide me, I’ll be alright. It’s simple—take me as I am, or that’s your problem, not mine
The Weight of Words
Last night, my mind a restless sea,
Tossed by waves of anxiety.
Meditations failed to soothe my soul,
As doubts and fears began to roll.
My wife, adrift in her own storm,
A tempest raging, dark and warm.
Her anger, like a bitter wind,
Cuts deep, leaving wounds behind.
I try to mend, to heal her pain,
But efforts seem to be in vain.
"You don't do enough," her words do sting,
A heavy burden, a cruel thing.
Yesterday, a storm did brew,
A simple plan, a silent view.
My wife's demands, a heavy weight,
A battle fought, a bitter fate.
Lost in roles, a masquerade,
A life of fear, a heart laid bare.
People-pleasing, a disguise worn,
A self-forgotten, lost and torn.
Now, sober, on a journey's path,
To find myself, to leave the past.
A question lingers, doubts arise,
"Am I myself, or another guise?"
But peace I find, a quiet mind,
A path of truth, a love refined.
To live with purpose, heart and soul,
To be authentic, reach my goal.
So let them judge, let them decide,
For who I am, I shall abide.
With God as guide, I'll find my way,
And let the truth shine, every day.
