On October 3rd I celebrated 10 years clean and sober. I know this is news to some people reading this. All I can say to you is the warm, caring and real person you know would not exist today if I had not gotten clean and sober back in college. 10 years is a long time, it's a significant amount of time -- a decade. I look at it that I have been clean and sober for 1/3 of my life. Holy crap! And I am only 30 years old. When I turn 40 I will have been clean and sober for half my life, and I'll hopefully have decades ahead of me. Maybe when I turn 103 and Willard Scott (he's timeless, right?) and Smuckers recognize this poor old thing on the Today show, he can also say that I have been clean and sober 83 years. Yeah, holy crap!
I had a wonderful personal celebration of my anniversary with Rachel. We had a wonderful Argentinian steak dinner, and she gave me a beautifully written card as well as a hand engraved Hadya necklace which she had engraved with the words "im ain ani li mi li" (if I am not for myself, who will be for me" and on the back "rak l'hayom" (one day at a time) with my sobriety date. I went to an AA meeting afterwards and was given a 10 year chip from another individual's personal collection, the first time that has happened to me in my 10 years. And I will pay it forward. My anniversary wasn't until the next day but in Jerusalem AA, a day is relative -- religious or secular depending on the situation.
The following day was my actual anniversary. It was also Simchat Torah. I wrote the following account of the experience in an email I sent out that night:
I sit here at 10:02pm, and I am exhausted. Exhausted yes, but invigorated even more. I'm still reeling from the hours of dancing I did at the Simchat Torah celebration I attended at Kibbutz Gezer. I didn't expect myself to dance very much. On the way there I was thinking to myself how when I first got clean and sober, so many people told me to just sit in meetings and listen, that I had far more to learn than to contribute in those early days. As much as I don't usually agree with that philosophy, I find myself using it in various parts of my life, a little too often, mostly as an excuse. I had planned on staying on the outside of the circles tonight, observing, learning. But once the klezmer band started playing, and the Torahs were embraced, and people started dancing, well, I couldn't contain myself. I ran out into the crowd and danced, and danced, and danced. I was winded and my legs felt like jello, but I danced, and danced, and danced. I danced with a smile on my face, throwing my head back in laughter at times, eagerly grabbing people's hands and shoulders so I could feel the joy of the connection I felt to others there with me. During the last go around, a large group made a big circle around the people holding the four Torahs and circle danced. The circle was avoiding a tree so I called to people to go around the tree, and apparently others were thinking the same thing. So our circle embraced the tree as well – the tree of life, my tree of life. I circle danced around my tree of life; I celebrated and honored my life as I danced. I thought about the many difficult times and the many joyous occasions I have lived with and through, the hard work I have done to become the good person I am today, the unselfish devotion I have had for myself as I, day in and day out, look to heal and embrace the future. Today I have been clean and sober for 10 years, a decade, a third of my life. Tonight I danced in celebration of a lot of things, one of them being myself, and that I am able to do that so freely is a testament to what my life has become free of drugs and alcohol. I was drenched in sweat earlier; my hair was dripping and my shirt was soaking. But it has been many, many years since I felt so clean. If you are reading this it is because you have at some point, in some way, contributed to my ability to have the strength to overcome my demons, by loving me, supporting me, encouraging me, challenging me and, quite frankly, by simply putting up with me at times. If I didn't have each of you, I wouldn't be so blessed today, and there would be little voids in my life where your spirits should have shone brightly. But I don't have to worry about that today. All I have to do is to say thank you, to myself and to each of you. I sit here at 10:37pm, and I am grateful.
But why confine celebrations to specific time frames? Rachel and I decided that we wanted to share our joy with the HUC-JIR student community. We chose to do it on a Saturday evening because we could incorporate Havdallah, and I would tell my story. Our celebration was held this past Saturday evening in the Persian Garden on the HUC campus. Amazingly, the majority of the community came -- about 50 people -- we will forever be moved and humbled by this. It was an intimate space, and there was a comforting chill in the air. The group had naturally formed a circle, and Rachel was sitting beside me (Rachel has never been sitting beside me when I have told my story in the past, and now I won't want it any other way). We began by dedicating the evening to my mom who is having some health problems. Our songleader began with a niggun and then transitioned into Mishaberach. I then proceeded to tell my story. I wanted to tailor it to my audience (no war story like they do in AA), and the easiest way was to talk around 10 points, 10 things that I am grateful for today because of my sobriety. It was pretty much dark at this point except for the moonlight -- there were no lights in the area we were sitting in. I talked with surprising ease (it being dark REALLY helped) for about 15 minutes. The crowd was rowdy in the beginning when I opened with "I've been clean and sober since October 3rd, 1997" and then thankfully responded positively to my attempts at wit and humor. When I finished I got a great big "simon tov and mazal tov" followed by the Shehecianu. Rachel then spoke briefly about Havdallah and seperation, about every day being a new day, every day having the chance to change what we don't like so as to help us live a better life. We then had a very spiritual Havdallah experience. The flame on the candle was enormous, but it was the only light, and it lit up the small space we were in so that we could all see each other again. And then, like good Jews, we ate!!! Rachel and I had made a small investment into the Marzipan business Thursday night, and everyone happily feasted on lots of cakes and sweets. I was overwhelmed by the many hugs given to me and the amazing, kind words people shared with me. It appears to have been an intimate and meaningful experience for everyone in attendance. It was a small moment in time that Rachel and I will never forget.
.jpg)
