I mean, I was doing really well with the meltdown part, until I wasn’t. And there’s been a lot more going on than I’ve really felt comfortable sharing…because it involved “those two,” and I really don’t feel comfortable talking about it.

They basically put me in a situation that I agreed with, used it against me, and then weaponized my reaction and said some condemning and threatening things that made me feel sick to my stomach it was so bad…just like the way I felt when I fled to the homeless shelter two years ago over the same thing. I felt sick. They know where I live…there were messages left on my car after I changed my phone number. So I changed a bunch of things up, and one change-up was out of necessity.

I realized after I shut that door again for good (hopefully for ever, this time) that they had me isolated again. And that depressed the hell out of me. I have one friend who I talk to every day, and my sister at least via text…but I have just felt so lonely. If I have a problem, I can’t just call people — not my two friends, their schedules have quite early social cut-off times. I wanted to cry. I wanted to drink. I even told someone I trust that I didn’t care what they did for a living, just so long as they went to bed feeling okay and feeling loved. And if they had that going for them, they were doing better than me. Because at that moment, I felt unlovable, and I don’t go to bed feeling okay. I often fall asleep wondering how many days it’d be before someone would come to check on me if I died in my sleep.

I cried my eyes out, just repeating “I am doing my best. I’m doing my best. Please don’t hate me too.” Because I would give absolutely anything to hear this person tell me something positive. I don’t think that’s mother wound stuff, I think it’s just an honest desire for presence from someone I’ve historically felt safe around. But if not them, then I’d give anything to be able to call someone and tell them I love them and hear them say they loved me. I’d like to go to bed with something on my mind other than how it’s probably going to be a week or so before someone figured out I might not be alive if I did die in my sleep.

When I decided to get out of that situation two years ago, I didn’t sign up to feel so alone. It’s crippling.

That was all of last week. I told my coach about all of it, today, and she said something that kind of gave me panic. “Keep doing what you’re doing, you’re doing great.”

Um, what?

“You’re doing great.” She repeated herself. “You caught it, stood firm on your boundaries, and saw yourself going downhill, but didn’t know what to do with it, and it overwhelmed you. Next time, catch it, and since you’ll be going back to meetings every day, you’ll have people to call and talk to.” She leaned in closer and added, “I know it doesn’t look like it from your perspective, but I see a person who is growing, who is learning, who is stronger than they believe. You just isolated yourself for the same reason that you had yourself isolated before you moved away a couple of years ago, and now you’re in that hurt cycle. And you’re going to get yourself out of it, just like last time.”

Not that I’ve had any alcohol in the last…321 days, but I see her point. Sober folks usually stay sober because of running a solid program and the quality of who they socialize with. The #1 and #2 reasons people relapse is because they are willfully hanging out with the wrong crowd, or because they are isolating, or worse: isolating in shame. But I saw her point. I knew that meetings came with some things I could not give myself alone: an active community of sober folks, and program accountability. And though I’ve almost a year of sobriety, I know it’d help a lot to be back in the rooms.

So I went tonight, and would you believe my roommate from the shelter was there handing out chips? I re-committed to the program (celebrating the end of white-knuckling my sobriety). And we stayed long after the meeting was over and caught up. She’s doing well, a lot of my old friends were there, and my favorite old-timer who called me “Village” because of my hat was there. “Hey! Village!! Ya finally cleaned that damned thing!” It felt like I was at home with my people again.

I’ve not gone to sleep, yet, but after tonight, maybe I can close my eyes on hope and love and not the fear of dying alone.