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It's purge season...

12.20.2014

Today is the first day of the rest of my life. Or whatever. These past two mornings, I've spent some much needed time with God—my God who I've neglected and rejected with the lame excuses of busyness and exhaustion. In the past 24 hours alone, I've come to the realization that I’d much rather be dead than to continue living this falsified, inebriated life that I pretend to enjoy. In my conversations with God, some things have been reaffirmed: for one, 2014 has been a most tumultuous year. The highs were high and counterfeit; the lows were real and perpetual. I've yet to escape the demons that I thought I’d fought off months ago. The flames of hell might have died down for a while but when they reignite, they rise with a vengeance. On this cold, gray morning, I stand in the pit of hell, frozen. My anxiety is running rampant in the pit of my stomach and I’m convinced hell is more like sharp cuts of an icicle than that of a raging fire. My feet are frost-bitten after walking across the marble kitchen floor of the hotel room to dump the remainder of my bottle of Cabernet down the drain. No, the wine didn't spoil. I've decided to embrace sobriety. My last drink was around 11:30 pm Friday night and although I tried to reason with God to let me enjoy the rest of the year as a drunk, God put a giant foot down and ordered me to rid my life of everything and everybody that was toxic. I should've known not to try to bargain with the most high. I thought, “Surely, I should hold off on sobriety until after all of the New Year’s Eve parties I haven’t been invited to (yet).” And what about that glass of wine (or three) that I was going to have with dinner on Christmas? I walked to the half-finished bottle of wine begrudgingly, yet willingly, and ended our toxic affair.
This post is not really about the death of my alcoholism; it’s more about the crucifixion of the woman formerly known as Mia Michelle McClain—the abuser, Mia Michelle McClain—the emotional eater, Mia Michelle McClain—the workaholic, Mia Michelle McClain—the victim, the horrible judge of character, the extreme self-critic…the list can go on. Toxicity comes in many forms: toxic dreams, toxic lovers, and toxic careers; they’re the things and people we hold on to the tightest; yet anything worth having shouldn't have to be squeezed so tightly. So I set you free. Today, I say goodbye to fantasies and embrace realities. I’m looking to clear my channels so that I can communicate with the universe better. I'm taking it one day at a time.

Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace;
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is discord, harmony;
Where there is error, truth;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
And where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master, Grant that I may not so much seek
To be consoled as to console;
To be understood as to understand;
To be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
-The Prayer of St. Francis
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