"I know I have another drunk in me, but I don't know if I have another recovery."
A shiver shot down my spine when I first heard this quote. I know how easy it would be for me to pick up a cold Heineken or glass of cabernet sauvignon at a nice restaurant. And my disease even tries to convince me I could handle it. "It's been years since you've had a drink," it whispers. "You can drink normally now," it says.
As I think those first drinks through, I know I might get away with them, but inevitably I'd end up drunk. I know myself well enough to know that I've easily got another drunk in me. I can't say the same thing about recovery, though, and that's why my spine still tingles when I read this quote.
Getting sober and taking the steps was a lot of work. Good work, to be sure, but it took countless surrenders, unparalleled willingness, and a humbling of my ego that only the desperation of the drowning can understand. If the fires of alcoholism were lit again, I don't know if I'd ever be able to contain them. That why I pray to God in the morning to keep me sober another day, and thank Him at night for doing so.
Because I know I have another drunk in me, but I don't know if I have another recovery.
