My Monday was a completely unremarkable day. I went to work and it was a normal day; there were no deadlines, no disasters, no fires to put out. After work at home, there was no drama, no tasks that needed immediate attention, no errands to run, no phone calls to return. It was an uneventful day, and for that I am grateful.
When I look back at my active drinking days, I see hungover days filled with angst and regret, nights filled with drunkenness and all of the drama that went with it. There was wreckage that was out of control, relationships that were trashed by words that couldn’t be taken back. There was the constant anxiety that came along with keeping all of my lies straight and my bottles hidden. There was the exhaustion that came from working hard to keep up the charade that I was okay, life was okay, everything was okay, when, in reality, I was dying on the inside. It was a horrible, dark and ugly time, but it was never uneventful.
Now, as I live life in recovery, I embrace the drama-free days. Of course, sobriety isn’t without its share of challenges and trials, but it isn’t so consistently one disaster after another. And there are a whole lot fewer self-inflicted problems created. I am able to see the beauty in the mundane, and the joy in the normal. I don’t have to struggle through all of the chaos to keep living…I just do it, easily most of the time, without having to think about it too much. That is truly a gift for which I am thankful.
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Sober Grace 
Great post. Yeah, I get it. One of the best things about not having disasters coming at me on a conveyor belt, is getting the chance to examine some of the hidden problems within. There was no time to examine old beliefs that weren’t serving me, while the police where banging on the door, trying to serve me.
Onward and upward. Or at least in that general direction.
Marius
Waking up, not hungover, having slept, knowing I am alone, I was alone, no one did me any harm in my sleep. A room that smells like me and only me, that will stay clean if I ever clean it. A lock on my door. A refrigerator with food I know is not rotten. Dishes and things to make food in that I know were not used lately for anything disgusting. Eyes that can focus. No hallucinations. No monsters and voices and rabbit holes.