09/01/2024
It’s not easy to climb out of a hole, but who wants it easy?
There was a time when I was trapped in a deep, dark hole. This wasn't a hole you could see, but one you could feel a pit dug by the relentless hands of addiction. It started slowly, just a little taste here, a small risk there. But soon, what began as a curiosity became chains around my ankles, pulling me deeper into a void that seemed impossible to escape.
The hole was lined with the remnants of my vices. Empty bottles clinked together like mocking laughter, remnants of late-night gambling binges cluttered the ground, and the echoes of reckless decisions with fleeting pleasures ricocheted off the walls. The darkness whispered lies in my ear, convincing me that this pit was all I deserved. It told me that there was no way out, that I might as well give up, that the only way to silence the pain was to let go forever.
But deep down, a tiny spark of defiance flickered. I didn’t want to die. Despite the overwhelming weight of the hole I was in, I wasn’t ready to let it bury me. I wanted to live not just exist in this pit of despair, but truly live. And that desire, faint as it was, became my lifeline.
It wasn’t easy to admit that I needed help. Pride is a stubborn thing, and it clung to me even as I teetered on the edge of oblivion. But the truth was undeniable: I couldn't do this alone. So, with trembling hands and a voice choked by shame, I reached out. I called for help, not knowing if anyone would hear me or if anyone even cared. But to my surprise, hands reached back.
It wasn’t easy to let go of the crutches I had leaned on for so long. The comfort of numbness was seductive, but it was also killing me. I had to face the demons I had tried so hard to avoid, to confront the pain I had buried beneath substances and distractions. It was a battle every single day, and some days, I didn’t think I would make it.
But as I clawed my way upward, I discovered something remarkable: each time I overcame an obstacle, each time I resisted the pull of old habits, I grew stronger. The climb was grueling, and I often stumbled, but I kept going because I had found something worth fighting for myself.
I had always wanted things to be easy, to find a quick fix or an escape from the hard parts of life. But the truth is, the struggle is what makes us who we are. The climb out of that hole wasn’t easy, but it was necessary. It forced me to confront the parts of myself I had tried to bury and gave me the chance to rebuild my life on a foundation of resilience and hope.
Now, as I stand on solid ground, I look back at the hole that once seemed like it would swallow me whole. I can see it for what it was: not a place of doom, but a crucible where I was forged into something stronger. It’s not easy to climb out of a hole, but then again, who wants it easy? It’s the climb that makes the view from the top so breathtaking.
AA helped a lot.