Musing by Veda Devi
I remember my rock bottom.
My cataclysm for change.
It was only 15 short months ago.
I turned up at a friends friends house, severely underweight, cut up and verging on another mental breakdown.
Yeah it took me a couple of those to realise my life wasn’t going so great.
I had experienced heart break of the best friend and boyfriend kind simultaneously.
I was using drugs and alcohol to self medicate, in large doses; which I had done so, on a daily basis for 13 years.
I had just hitchhiked around Northern California, working on marijuana plantations thinking I was finding myself and connecting to the great omnipresent spirit that had been revealed to me at Burning Man (insert eye roll here), with no money, no security, no phone or any means to contact loved ones and let them know I was OK.
I arrived at my friends house with a cut up face, a broken heart, a shattered soul and completely broken.
I remember looking at her, at her home, her dog and seeing how clean it all was, how calm she was, how ‘together’ her life was.
She was a highly respected spiritual healer and teacher, both things I knew were burning inside me to come out.
I said to her through floods of tears, ‘I want your life’.
Her answer was simply ‘you know what you have to do’.
The knowing came over me like a big, black looming storm cloud ready to release its fury of truth and wrath.
I had to get sober.
The last thing I, being an alcoholic and a drug addict EVER wanted to do but I knew that this was it.
It was either get sober and get the life I knew I was destined to live or die a slow and painful death.
I went to my first meeting the next day and cried.
I cried through the whole first 90 days of my sobriety.
I would just get to a meeting and cry.
I would cry because I was in a 12 step program so I thought I had ‘failed at life’.
I would cry because I hadn’t felt true emotions for 13 years and the floodgates were well and truly open.
I cried for all that I had been through and pretended like I hadn’t.
I cried for the little girl in me that had been mistreated time and time again by men and more importantly myself.
I felt like I was crying for the whole world. I was. Mine.