Whispering Wyrd

Every morning I have a cup of hot Earl Grey tea. Some people have to have their coffee, I have to have my tea. I feel completely “off” if I don’t have that cup of tea. It’s not just the warmth or the caffeine, though the caffeine is definitely a factor. It’s the time and the space of it. The “ritual” of it.

I’ve never been a morning person in my whole life, but this gives me a small window at the start of each day. A quiet moment to settle in before everything begins. It’s small things like this that bring me a sense of peace. A sense of continuity. It doesn’t have to be tea or coffee, and it doesn’t have to be in the morning. Just something that gives you a little space, time to slow down, even if just for a few minutes.

My wife has her own version of this. She has a Dr. Pepper. She loves needlework, cross-stitching and embroidery. It helps her unwind, and the things she creates are beautiful. I have my bonsai trees. I write. We both love to read. Things like this give us time to breathe and enjoy our lives. It helps us to de-stress.

These are simple things. Quiet things. But they matter more than I ever would have understood before, especially during active alcoholism and/or addiction. Because during active alcoholism and addiction, none of that existed for me.

I woke up every day feeling awful, either hungover or already needing something (benzos) just to feel like what I thought was “normal”. My first thoughts every day weren’t peaceful or reflective. They were about survival. Do I have enough pills? How am I going to get more? What’s my backup plan if I can’t get more pills?

That’s what addiction does. It takes over everything. Every thought, every plan, every moment. It replaces any sense of peace with constant pressure. There’s nothing restful about it. Nothing steady. Nothing calm.

So now, I don’t take these quiet moments for granted. Not even a little bit.

I’ve come a long way, but it didn’t happen all at once. There wasn’t some single turning point where everything suddenly became peaceful. It came in small pieces and small changes. Small choices like a cup of tea. A quiet morning. My daily walks. A moment of gratitude and prayer before I get out of bed.

Taken individually, these things might not seem like much. I know that if someone had suggested them to me back then, I would have dismissed them. They would have seemed too small to matter at all. But they do matter…

Because that’s how peace begins to happen, not all at once, but in moments. Brief, almost unnoticeable moments where, for a little while, everything feels OK. Over time, those moments start to add up.

They don’t erase the past and they don’t magically fix everything. But they create something new. Something steady and something real.

They become reminders. Reminders that life doesn’t have to feel the way it once did. Reminders that peace and recovery is possible. Reminders that I don’t have to rush into the day anymore.

I can sit and I can breathe. And I can have my tea.

Amituofo
~Buck