getting oiled. well oiled. what completely inaccurate synonyms for intoxication.

because as our minds and lives become more and more saturated with alcohol, the more they begin to malfunction, to break down. to fail at first in small ways and then in greater and greater ones.

our cogs and pulleys can seem irretrievably jammed and rusted. seized up by our past. the machine of us at a standstill in the breaker’s yard. good for nothing but scrap. and that is what we tell ourselves at our lowest moments.

but we are more than machines. more than components. what we are is that vital spark, whether you call it soul, or spirit, or simply the ability to feel. and as Glennon says, if we can still feel, then there is hope.

so if we are lucky and timely and patient with ourselves, and if we find the right supports, we find hope. we find a way to stop. and the longer we stay stopped, our tiny spark of hope flickers and grows and warms us from the inside out. until we become a light in the darkness for ourselves. the candle kept burning in the window, showing ourselves the way home.

there are still bits of my machine that are not functioning yet. whole sub-systems which I am leaving until I am stronger, while I work on the most vital bits. providing myself with the oxygen of friendship. building trust in relationships, not least in my own relationship with myself. but those mothballed areas stare accusingly at me often, clamouring for attention: fix me. make me better. I am important too….

hush, there. all in good time. I’m busy, feeding my flame.

how will you feed your flame today?

94 days to go.

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