It was December of 1981. I was 20 years old and a complete mess. My parents' home was decorated for the season and the kitchen smelled of turkey, dressing, and homemade pies. My mom hummed loudly, as she always did, while directing and organizing the dinner. My father sat at the table attached to his oxygen tank and provided commentary and suggestions. But I wasn't hungry. I was on drugs - again.
Many failed attempts at a clean life had landed me homeless and crashing on couches. A couch surfer - my profession. But I was looking forward to this celebration. Sadly, not because of the love I felt for my family. I did love them but I really wasn't capable of experiencing that kind of joy on this particular day. Christmas was a time of gifts and I couldn't wait to see what my family had bought for me. They had found me in a sea of addict friends and had reluctantly invited me over to join them. God willing, my last "high" Christmas.
After the meal in the elegant dining room under the beautiful crystal chandelier, we shuffled to the casual den where a magnificent tree stood next to a stone fireplace. All was right with the world. Then it happened. While in my active addiction, I had the ability to ruin a special occasion in five seconds. You see, by now I'm beginning to think about getting high. It had been a few hours and I was getting antsy and just wanted to open my presents and get out. I was praying for something I could pawn. Couch surfing doesn't pay well. One of my three brothers announced to our mom and dad that the kids had gone in together and bought them a gift. I wasn't informed of this but was delighted that we had done that without my monetary contribution, as I was penniless. My mom got up and, with help help from the guys, opened the biggest television I had ever seen. We all wailed with excitement for them and then she read the card. "Merry Christmas. We love you - The Boys."
My blood began to boil. Why wasn't my name on the card? I was furious. How could they do that to me? My sense of entitlement burst out all over the Christmas celebration of 1981. I wanted the special recognition and treatment without contributing anything. There was not one gift under the tree from me. Sure, I thought about buying gifts but never could get my life together enough to make it happen. Wasn't it enough that I was there and cared about them? I judged myself by my intentions while the world judged me by my actions.
After causing a scene and cussing at my brothers, we settled down to open our gifts. I had several from my mom and dad and all were items not suitable for the pawn shop. My parents were wise and knew that I only wanted money to get drugs and ultimately get high. Soaps, underwear, and socks! I hated my family at that moment. Grabbing my things, I called my boyfriend to pick me up and I left.
That night we slept in the bed of his pick-up truck in a field off of Country Club Road. Six months later, I began a path of recovery that has given me a life beyond my wildest dreams.
Since that day, I've had 38 sober Christmases, 38 times I haven't ruined the holiday, 38 times my family can count on me. In recovery, I have changed my focus from what I can get out of the season to what I can bring to it for others. This has helped me to stay on the right path. But it didn't come easily. In fact, I had to re-train and re-wire my brain to think differently and develop new habits. That takes time! As I am writing, there is a cozy fire in my own stone fireplace. My children are grown and have lives and families of their own. They had all of their holiday seasons with a sober mom. My father passed away in 1983 and I was able to have one sober Christmas with him. What a difference a year can make.
Sometimes we think we are too far to return to health and sanity. Never give up. If there is life - there is hope. In 2004, my mom died peacefully in my arms two weeks after Christmas. She told me throughout the years how proud she was of me. Isn't that funny? Proud of me for doing what I should have been doing all along. But she was. Since that last "high" Christmas in 1981, I've made a decision to do certain things (in addition to those things I do on a daily basis) to stay centered during December and especially 2020 when so many are suffering extraordinary difficulties. First of all, I keep my expectations in check. All of them.
For example, my kids can choose where to spend Christmas without guilt. I recognize everyone is doing the best they can and added pressure only makes things worse for everyone. I don't expect gifts. Imagine that! In fact, my gift is to be a part of my loved ones lives in a healthy and respectful manner. I've heard over the years that expectations are premeditated resentments. As a recovered addict, I can't afford that kind of anger.
Another thing that has been extremely helpful is to give to those in need. It might be a family, a charity, or an individual. This is a way I can make amends for the selfish acts and fits of entitlement while I was high. This is what the season is all about, isn't it? Giving. It was so foreign to me those first few years. It doesn't have to be in the form of money, either. Picking up the phone to check on a friend can have a profound and healing impact for them - and me. Volunteering to walk dogs at a shelter, offering rides, delivering groceries, and running errands are just a few ways to be of service around the holidays.
My last high Christmas was many years ago but the memory is very clear and hopefully it stays that way. God gave me the gift of recovery - his gift to me. Today I choose to cherish and share this with others. May God bless you with the gift of hope during this difficult year and always.

Thank you for this.
Congratulations on the launch! I have watched you work and pour your heart and soul into getting this project started. You're a daily inspiration to me and I am beyond blessed to be here. I love you!
I love all of your comments! I’ll be sharing lots of “old” stories. Thanks for the support!
I can still see the house and Christmas tree so vividly as you describe it. It was actually a place of refuge for me growing up as was our friendship. I can’t relay how happy I am for the life you chose on that day! You and your family have done so much good for others including my own parents. I know your parents are smiling down on your legacy now. I will always be grateful for having that extra place at the table or bed to sleep in when I needed it during our childhood. Love and blessings to you and Merry Christmas!
Really needed to read this today. Oftentimes, I get so busy and caught up in the promises that have come true in my life...forgetting how important it is to look back and see how God has provided everything. You are a terrific writer and I so appreciate you sharing this Christmas memory today. Merry Christmas to you and your family! Xoxo