Twenty
years ago, my talented Vietnamese student cut out most of the letters for this poem
I wrote and he fashioned it into the shape of a tree:
The Christmas tree is a sight to
see,
All decorated up ornamentally.
The bulbs all colored, the lights
all bright,
I love to watch it late at night.
The gathering of gifts and family
I see
As a child of five in my memory.
And now the gifts have come back
to me,
Hanging here on this Christmas
tree.
There
aren’t enough branches on the tree for all the gifts in my life. How about you?
I haven’t forgotten about the daughter I miss. But I’m happier when I count my
blessings. Happy Holidays to all my dear friends!
The miracles of recovery just keep flooding into my life, like a welcome storm after a long dry spell. The world around me, and the people in it, remain the same in many ways. The world still turns. But I’m not the same. My perceptions are different, and I see people and events through a different lens.
I used to
feel intimidated and defensive around my husband’s family. But we recently had
a wonderful visit together. I enjoyed their company thoroughly. It is with
great relief that I realize the problem was never with them; it was with me.
And to be able to own that now, and move on comfortably, is but one of the
gifts of my growth in recovery.
I’ve heard
it said that ours is a disease of relationships, and I agree. How substance use
disorder of all forms tears through relationships—mother and child, husband and
wife, father and son—and gets in the way of healthy communication. The twelve
steps of recovery, when practiced diligently, offer so much hope for change.
And that change is reflected in how we relate to those around us. Not every day
and not completely. But it’s progress I’m making, not perfection I’m seeking.
The willingness to grow along spiritual lines is enough for me. And it brings
me closer to the peace and serenity I strive for.
“The
universe is run exactly on the lines of a cafeteria. Unless you
claim—mentally—what you want, you may sit and wait forever.” ~Emmet Fox
Fear has
always kept me from asking for what I want. But the older I get, the less I
care about rejection. Living fully means facing that on a regular basis. And I
always learn something. Maybe I learn that my request was ill-timed or
inappropriate. Other times I might learn that I asked for just the right thing,
but it was denied. I can spend hours ruminating on why it was denied, driving
myself batty. Or I can accept that things worked out differently, and let it
go. My energy is better spent on other things I have control over now.
That’s
important. Because wasting my energy on things I can’t do anything about saps
my strength—strength I need to stay in recovery.
Gene and I are over seventy. I guess that makes us officially “old.” But we’re not. Except for the arthritis that’s hurts most days, we’re still very active and engaged in our community. But we were tested a few days ago when we went hiking around Mt. Baker.
On our last day, we went on a hike without reading about it first. Heliotrope Ridge took a while to get to by car. But the views of Mt. Baker made it worth it. We were so uplifted by the calm beauty all around us that we were inspired to stay there and go hiking. But we should have read the book first.
It was grueling from the beginning. A hiker on the way back gave me hope: “This is the worst part!”
I thought she meant just this stretch, but I soon found out she meant the whole two miles in. Mostly up.
Gene and I walk almost every day. Nice relaxing flat walks on our beach or along the peaceful road on Camano Island. But we can’t do much elevation, certainly not 1200 feet. I have COPD and his lungs are even more shot than mine.
It took us a long time, but we made it. I was pretty miserable huffing and puffing all the way up, and so was he. Even coming down I was in a bad mood, this time complaining about my knees and my broken toe.
Well, I learned the difference between happiness and joy. I was not happy by the surface discomforts of going on a strenuous hike. But I came away feeling joyful: joyful that I pushed ahead without turning back; joyful that I accomplished something difficult; and most of all, joyful that I could dig deeper into my core and convert a challenge into a valuable lesson.
What did I learn? That I’m stronger than I thought I was. And I still have lots of living and growing to do.
“I’ve heard some people condense the activities of spiritual
life into these words: quiet the mind; open the heart. In encouraging myself to
expand my understanding of prayer and meditation, I like to recall those
suggestions.”
“’It seems to me that I have always been waiting for
something better—sometimes to see the best I had always snatched from me.’
~Dorothy Reed Mendenhall
Gratitude for what is prepares us for the blessings just
around the corner. What is so necessary to understand is that our wait for
what’s around the corner closes our eyes to the joys of the present moment…We
can, each of us, look back on former days, realizing that we learned too late
the value of a friend or an experience…When we detach from the present and wait
for tomorrow…we are stunting our spiritual growth. Life can only bless us now,
one breath at a time.”
Attitude is everything in my life. I have losses. Everyone
does. I can waste time regretting the past or projecting into an uncertain
future. Today I can keep my feet planted on the ground and open my eyes. This
is how I choose to live. My recovery program has assured me that I will always
have choices, and I can only try to do the next right thing.
“True recovery takes place when I step out on faith and
carry out…new behavior. Then I know a small portion of me has grown. When I
take action based on introspection and meditation, I push my recovery
boundaries further. I know if I keep on this path I will always keep
growing…Outward action must follow inner work to truly take root in my life.”
Insight into ourselves is valuable, but unless we do the
footwork to change what may be necessary, our insight isn’t enough. Just for
today I will try to grow toward the light.
“’Life is patchwork—here and there, pleasure and despair,
Joined together, hit or miss.’ ~Anne Bronaugh
As you look ahead to this day, you can count on unexpected
experiences. You can count on moments of laughter. And you can count on twinges
of fear. Life is seldom what we expect, but we can trust that we will survive
the rough times. They will, in fact, soften our edges. Pleasure and pain share
equally in the context of our lives.
We so easily forget that our growth comes from the
challenges we label “problems.” We do
have the tools at hand to reap the benefits inherent in the problems that may
face us today. Let us move gently forward, take the program with us, and watch
the barriers disappear.”
If we remain steeped in sorrow, are we receptive to joy? If
all goes well for us, are we prepared for the valleys? There will always be a
mix of both in our lives. The trick is to find a balance and not be overwhelmed
by either emotion. To be able to say, “Okay today was not a good day, but I’m
confident tomorrow will be a good day.”
“’An element of recovery is learning that we deserve
success, the good things that come to us, and also that pain is a reality. We
have the strength to deal with that reality, and it will pass.’ ~Dudley
Martineau
Many of us didn’t understand the changing variables in being
human. Our coping skills were at a minimum until we discovered what alcohol or
pills, even food, could do for us. And then, a drink or two—or six, maybe—got
us through many a lonely evening.
The desire for an easy solution might still haunt us, but
time, new experiences, and program friends have taught us that our past habits
weren’t really easy solutions. In reality they increased our problems and led us
nowhere.”
Some of us who love addicts have found comfort in substances
ourselves. But when I make an effort to walk the spiritual path I have chosen,
I no longer seek those easy solutions. As they say in the rooms, “My best
thinking got me here.” I need to remember that and cease thinking that I have
the best answers. Putting my faith in something greater than myself, I can let
go of my human frailties. And all will be well.
“Worry
never robs tomorrow of its sorrow, but only saps todays of its strength.” ~A.J.
Cronin
Wow, it
takes tremendous discipline to stay grounded in the present. To live “just for
today.” On any given day, how do my thoughts wander back to past times, and the
inevitable regrets that crop up from time to time? And if I’m not looking
backwards, I’m projecting into a future that hasn’t even happened yet. This is
natural for some of us who have an addicted loved one. It’s called
“anticipatory grief,” and it’s meant to prepare us for the worst.
And though
it may be a way to soften future blows, the act of being there in a sad future
keeps me from smelling the roses under my nose.
Today the sun came up over the mountain and last night there was a beautiful
crescent moon. My friend has pneumonia and I’m going to take her flowers in the
hospital. I’m reminded to be grateful for my good health. My friends and family
in our recovery program are a great comfort to me as I move forward in my life.
When I
remember to stay focused on the present day and all the blessings that fill my
days, I can step out with confidence and faith in my Higher Power, assured that
all is well.
