When anything upsetting happens, I feel this extreme need to share. When I disappoint myself, I have this desire to talk about it, because I have no other outlet. When I'm hurting, I let people know I'm hurting. When I fall, I need to be helped up. I sometimes think (to myself--obviously) "Okay, Sarah, lets not tell everyone how you messed up-- keep it secret." I tell myself this, but I can't control the need to share, just in case, my circumstance may help others, and (selfishly) I, in return will receive the support I am obviously looking for. My biggest, proudest achievement, thus far in life, aside from my children, is my sobriety. And, I messed that up--for a few hours. I chose to take a risk, during a weak moment. I'm human. I can't undo what I did. I can choose to not put myself in a similar situation, that proved to be more than I could handle. Am I mad at myself? Sure. Did I beat myself up? Yes. Did I grow a bit from this experience, I hope so. I won't go into specifics about tipping over in the wagon, but it was eventful. I was like a child with their hand in a cookie jar. I was at a Snoop Dogg concert for crying out loud. I danced, laughed, and I asked every single person, gang members and all, where they were from and what their favorite colors were. I am human. You live and learn. I learned that I still hate not being in control of my own actions. I learned that, I will never go to Mexico again, probably either. I am human--I make mistakes-many of them. I am lucky to have the family and friends I have, who weren't necessarily mad at me, possibly disappointed, but they were more worried about how disappointed I was in myself. And for that I am lucky. For that I am grateful--for these people love me.
