Pinocchio

After the credits rolled I imagine Pinocchio had it rough.

He was a wooden puppet animated by magic and all of a sudden he's a real boy. He has no idea what feelings are or how to deal with them. Never felt love or fear or disappointment. Never felt heartbreak or loneliness. Never been in danger or injured. And one day he wakes up and humanity comes rushing in. He's left woefully unprepared. Out of his depth.

I drank a lot for a long time. I kept things muffled. I didn't develop the ability to feel my emotions and deal with them. They were buried, camouflaged, muted. I avoided honesty, tried to make myself incapable of it. I was crippled in a way, unable to communicate or articulate. I was like Pinocchio. I could walk and talk like a real boy but there was something off, something missing.

Sobriety has been a gift, eye-opening and life-changing, for which I'm grateful for every day. But it's not always easy and at times can be raw. I'm like Pinocchio, I woke up one morning and was flooded with situations and emotions I had never experienced before. I woke up present in my own life for the first time. How do you process anger or regret? Joy or longing? How do you feel it? I didn't know.

Getting sober is a transformative experience not less fantastic or magical than Pinocchio being gifted with mortality. I learn every day. I feel every day. There are ups, there are downs, and for the most part they even themselves out. I'm learning to ride the wave not fight it. I may be behind but there is room and time for growth.

Once he became a boy, a real live boy, I imagine Pinocchio felt like he had a lot of catching up to do. And I imagine he discovered what I have. Time is a great equalizer.