Isn't that the truth. Just this morning, I began to question whether or not I was an alcoholic. Ya, funny, I know. But it actually crossed my mind. And at the moment, Left Side and Right Side were making sense. I mean, I could pick out all sorts of differences between "me" and "them." There's a lot, believe me.
But as the arguments continued, it started to get dark. I could barely see my hands through the fog. Things became surreal and I was no longer where I needed to be. And therein lies the beauty of my recovery.
I began to realize that my thinking was unclear, and I recalled how hellacious my life had been, how the Beast had its grips in me once, tearing me apart, and I could do nothing to keep it away from me. I recalled all of the devastation and hopelessness and worthlessness and loss that covered my life in darkness.
And then, I remembered the Hope. The Light that lit my way and brought me to this place of (mostly) peace and serenity; and the fog cleared up. I would make it through this morning. I would make it through this day. I just had to remember what it was like then, what I didn't want, in order to move out of where I was headed; to gain what it was that I truly wanted.
It is so true that I can never forget where I came from. Many times it helps me be who I want to be, because I remember who I don't want to return to being again.