In our youth, we thought little about our lifespan. We lived in the moment. We were carefree and accepting of most that would be thrown our way. We would dart out into a busy street, leap from high places, run with scissors in our hands, and drink right out of the unfiltered hose. Death was discounted as the other guys' problem.
Our teen years brought mortality closer to us, or we simply paid more attention to its mention. There was the grandparent, the neighbor, or that one kid in the other school. The stories sunk in at a different level, but we felt invincible. We began to watch for cars, use step stools, carry scissors in safety, and drink from a Britta.
So much changed in our early adult years. We began to understand the circle of life and were exposed to the many ways in which one could meet one's demise. Dealing with death became part of life. We started to value our breaths. We learned to use the crosswalks, checked the stability of our ladders prior to accession, sent our kids for the scissors, and switched from water to alcohol.
By the time middle age rolled around, we began to check in with our life clocks. With each report, we placed reason in our reality. What was our over-under? We were living fast and hard and knew that our abuse was taking a toll on our minds and bodies. We began to take more chances crossing the highways of life, disregarded health and safety checks, and moved from glass to bottle to double down on the impact of the poison.
We were knocking on death's door and had accepted the fact that we would cross over long before the world average. We were betting the under and doing everything possible to support our stance. As we believed in our bleakness, we behaved accordingly. Premature death had become an acceptable scenario. We had given up on the hope that we could change our patterns and, therefore, change our quality of existence.
At the height of darkness came the unexpected. In spite of our defeatist attitudes, the most remarkable transformations began to play out. We were desperate for that ray of light, and though we held the winning under ticket, we realized that we had hope through our options. We were introduced to a program (Alcoholics Anonymous) that promised a resolution to our problems – all of them!
In nearly no time at all, through invested time, we began to care about traffic patterns, respect dangerous scenarios, adhere to scissor safety, and return to water over wine.
Somewhere in early sobriety, we began to believe that this conversion would stick – that by working recovery, we would return to the riches that were stripped away by the legal spirits.
At a point, we don’t recall, the under-ticket slipped from our fingers. Our pessimism was replaced by radical positivity. And though still surrounded by tragedies and death, we have switched or bet and our support to the over.
As we sit, we think little about our lifespan. We live in the moment. We are carefree and accepting of most that would be thrown our way. We dart into experiences and relationships. We appreciate the view from high places while respecting the guardrail. We teach the next generations about scissors safety and sometimes drink right out of the unfiltered hose.
We love living in the over. We hope and pray for those gripping the under-ticket. We can only say that what happened to us CAN happen to ANYONE. The first step is believing that statement, and the second is buddying up with someone to show the way.
Thoughts and ideas for this blog post were taken and built upon from a sober.coffee bonus podcast #68 titled "Special Guest - Tara - Keep Coming Back Podcast." The podcast dropped on 7/13/2022. Click here to hear the podcast.
Photo by Seth Doyle on Unsplash
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