Coming into sobriety isn’t about emerging from a maze – it’s about coming through a haze. A thick haze.
A haze of murk.
When I look back on the madness that is alcoholism, I see an internal life tossed about like debris in a hurricane. The clarity required to navigate a maze back then didn’t exist. Think Jack Nicholson in The Shining.
There aren’t too many good reasons to take trips down memory lane anymore. The future is too bright.