WHO WILL I BE SOBER?

Picture if you will a shy, little girl with glasses and knobby knees, afraid to speak up and afraid to reach out; that was me from kindergarten up until the eighth grade.  A classic wall-flower at any social event; sure I had a few close friends, similar outcasts for one reason or another.  I was a good girl, obedient and tried to please others. 

I grew up in a family of five kids, smack dab in the middle; my older brother and sister were annoyed if they had to bother with me, and my two younger sisters were often too busy squabbling with each other to bother with me as well.  So, I was left to myself a lot I guess.  Even though I had inadequate social skills, I’ve always pretty much liked myself and, for the most part, enjoyed my own company.  I guess I kind of “ghosted” through those elementary and middle school years. And then came high-school
and a couple of new friends; an adventurous rebel named Laurie, Schlitz Malt Liquor (the Bull), and good old Mary Jane.

I especially liked the “Bull” because when I started keeping company with him, gone was the shy child, the quiet child, the unnoticed child, and hello “born to be wild” child.  A whole new world with new adventures, and boys and parties opened up to me, and I loved it.  I was having the time of my life.  I had found another me, a fun me, a brave me, a cool me.  I was hooked, and I was headed for disaster.  I started skipping classes and then whole days.  I started making up excuses, and telling lies.  The “Bull” was taking over my life, and I didn’t even realize it. 

The years went by, and by the grace of God, I lived through my teenage years.  I got married young, traded the “Bull” for a “Mick” (Michelob), and thought I had it all under control.  Well, a bad divorce, and two children later, humiliated by bad choices, I went home to Mom and Dad.  I said goodbye to “Mick” and for four years stayed high and dry, and tried to be a good mother.  I learned a trade and found out how far I had come from being that shy little girl who had once liked herself.  I gained some confidence back; I was proud of my efforts, and I decided the “bull” and “Mick” really hadn’t been the problem after all; just bad choices, immaturity, youth.  Now I was in control, and I could handle it.  I found a new friend “Jack” (Jack Daniels).  He was grown up, not as loud as the “Bull” or Mick,” but he could argue, and he could be mean, and oh-oh, my new marriage was in jeopardy.  My new friend had to go. 

I asked God for help, and He gave “Jack” the boot.  I was afraid though.  How will I have fun?  How will I act confident?  Who will I be sober?  Twelve years later, I don’t miss the Bull or Mick or Jack.  They weren’t good friends anyway.  I still have my marriage; four kids, and two grandkids.  I have had my own dress shop, built a waterfall, a home and a life.  I’ve been a painter, an interior decorator, a musician; I’ve lost friends and loved ones. I’ve cried and I’ve laughed, and all of it sober.

I don’t need “the boys” to be confident; to have fun, or be accepted.  I am a many faceted diamond, clear and strong, tested and tried.  I am still finding out who I will be sober, but I know she will be someone I like and respect, someone I am not ashamed to call “me.”

Marsha Winzeler