Guy Andrew Hall

It was thirty years ago today that I took the road to recovery. Since then, not a drop of liquor, beer, or any other type of alcoholic beverage, nor any type of illicit drug, has passed by my lips. It’s been an interesting road, with a lot of failures, and a lot of successes. Thankfully the successes far out paced the failures over time. What’s really changed is that where I once saw life as struggle and misery, I now see as simply challenges and lessons to be learned.

Along the way I’ve made some enduring friendships, many whom I may only see once a year, or even farther apart than that. Yet, when I see them, it’s as if we only last saw each other yesterday. Even with our paths taking different directions, that connection of growth has lasted longer than any so-called times of fun when drinking and using.

In the end, I have to acknowledge that my recovery has been because of others – their stories, their insights, and their courage have helped me to take risks and move down roads with unknown outcomes. Many have pointed out my errors in thinking, and my poor behaviors. Many continue to do so; all to my betterment.

My 30 years of sobriety is not just a testament to my efforts, but the efforts of hundreds of others over the years, both in the program, and in my personal and professional life. So, this Milestone is less about bragging and more about being thankful.

So, my gratitude goes out to all that have helped me.

And yes, I am also still bragging!

Update: Corrected for spelling. One simple mistakes, sheesh!

Okay, I have to admit that since Thursday I’ve been ill. I believe I actually came down with the flu. I haven’t had anything worse than a cold or mild respiratory infection in over 20 years.

This illness messed me up. First, I had aches and pains in my hips, and eventually my whole body. I had something going on in my chest, but it didn’t cause any sinus blockage usually associated with a cold. Nor did I cough all that much. But when I did it tore up my throat.

I stayed home from work Friday – which I am loath to do – and just sat in front of the TV watching movies and basically drifting in and out of sleep. On Saturday morning I managed to crawl out of bed and take a shower, but I had a hell of a time moving and keeping my balance.

And the worst of it? Everything tasted like shit! Even coffee.

Yes, you read that right.

EVEN. COFFEE.

That’s how seriously ill I was.

I was just too wiped on Friday morning to make a pot. Somehow, despite how miserable I felt, I managed to get dishes done Friday evening and set up my coffee pot for the morning. So, when I got up on Saturday I started the pot, got in the shower, and then – after getting dressed – promptly laid down on top of my bedding to rest and fell asleep.

Now, I’ve no problem with coffee a couple of hours old. But when I finally managed to crawl off my bed – and that took some serious effort – and pour myself a cup it tasted horrible. I ended up pouring it all out!

There’s just something fundamentally not right about pouring out coffee. I shudder now just thinking about that atrocity. I might actually be scarred for life.

Well, anyway, I no longer suffer the aches and pains of the last two days. I’ve still the cough to content with, but it too is not nearly as painful. And instead of feeling weak due to sickness, I feel weak due to hunger!

I ate yesterday, and the day before, but not much. It was an effort to eat anything since it all tasted like crap. Since my coffee tastes delicious this morning, I’ve no fear about food.

Okay, enough about my illness. I’ve got to get into the shower now and get ready for the trip to the cities –  I’ve “The Hobbit” to see with The Fuskers™!