It's showtime

Something obviously needed to be done in my 18th month of recovery. I prayed for God to take my will and my life, as he had done early in my sobriety, but my alcoholism was creeping back into my life, demanding to reassert its central place. As my physical and fiscal health returned, I felt my initial elation and freedom slowly turning to a vague dissatisfaction, a mounting sense of "not enough." Enough what? I asked myself, stymied.