7 Years...Amen

At times this world can be so beautiful, it's hard to take it all in.
But don't you be afraid, just let it rain...and say Amen.

~Jen Foster~

August 23, 2010 marks 7 years of sobriety in my world...7 years since my world fell apart...7 years of slowly picking up the pieces and figuring out how they all fit back together...

August 23, 2003 was a Hell hot day in Dallas, and I guess I could say that it was the worst day of my life. Then again, I suppose I could also say it was the best. We all have moments in time that alter not just our circumstances, but the very essence of who we are...and, for me, this day and the weeks, months, and the immediate years that followed held many of them.

So much has changed, in fact, that I cannot even recognize the person that I was before I got sober. That person had such different values and perspectives than my own - and yet, there is proof of this existence in a handful of writings, photos, and legal papers that I keep in a box underneath the bed that I sleep in today - 700 miles from where it all happened. Most days, it might as well be 10,000. Some days, it feels more like 10. Always, I am aware that the road back is as short as the journey here has been long.

Every year on this day, I make a point of going back there in my mind and making a concerted effort to re-experience the "highlights" of the two years after my active addiction ended. Police cars, courtrooms, handcuffs, strip searches, work detail, letters home, family visits that never happened...endless days, and nights that seemed even longer. I don't force my mind back there to punish myself - I do it to remind myself of where I can never be again. For whatever the reasons I will say out loud that I stay sober...the real thing that keeps me clean is the pure and unadulterated terror of returning to that place. There is nothing that I fear more - and nothing makes me more grateful to be alive, and to be who I am now than the humbling memory of the path that led me here.

And then I think of how the story has changed. I think of how broken I was, and how strong I am now - mainly because I was just too dumb or hard headed to understand that giving up was, indeed, an option. 7 years - more than 2500 days - have passed since then, and each and every one of them has begun and ended with a prayer of thanksgiving to the higher power of my understanding - an entity for which I have no name...only the concept of a universal energy that encompasses the ideals of truth, love, compassion, wisdom, kindness, tolerance, patience, humility, forgiveness, mercy, and faith. The hours in between are filled with steps counted one at a time in the hopes that enough of these steps taken consecutively will eventually come together to create some sort of productive and meaningful life that is worth at least an honorable mention. It's a work in progress. When I stumble, I get up. When regret threatens to choke me, I fight myself out of it's grasp until I can breathe again. When the winds of change blow so hard that forward movement seems impossible, I go through the motions anyway...step...step...step...step. Eventually, the storm will calm and I will be on my way once again. Building my life upon these foundations has brought immeasurable joy and blessed me with the ability to reach beyond my comfort zones and into the places where my dreams await. There is less fear, and more risk (calculated as it might be) with the understanding that any given failure will not be my last...or necessarily even the end of the story at hand.

Looking out into the rain at the dawn of the 8th year of my second chance...I acknowledge the battered and broken person that has become a mere whisper in my mind in the darkest moments of night...and I celebrate the strong, hopeful, (and ever so slightly neurotic, many would say) individual that has taken her place. And each breath I draw into my lungs is released as a prayer of gratitude to the universe...

...Amen, once again.

A Day of Thanksgiving - A Daily Thanksgiving

The unthankful heart... discovers no mercies; but let the thankful heart sweep through the day and, as the magnet finds the iron, so it will find, in every hour, some heavenly blessings!

~Henry Ward Beecher

I've said it before, and I will keep saying it...but especially loud today, gratitude is absolutely the cornerstone of my recovery and every good thing that I have in my life. I honestly believe that gratitude is the one single element that keeps me clean, gives me strength and strength of character, and provides me with the ability to love and feel love in my life.

I have decided that my favorite Facebook status of the day is "Just another day to feel thankful." How true is that? I mean, it's cool and all to have a day set aside for food, football, and taking a moment to acknowledge the good in our lives. But what would happen if each and every one of us took that last thing and turned it into a daily habit.? I know this is not a new idea...but with so many tragic things happening around the world - war, scary financial times, suicide bombers, etc., it just seems like a good time to consider the question.

There was a time when I could not feel gratitude at all. I was so focused on my own pain and unhappiness that it was impossible for me to see the good in my life at all. I didn't realize at the time that my inability to see what was good was precisely what kept me in the cycle of pain and unhappiness. Duh. It seems so simple to me now - but at that time, I could not imagine that things would ever change for me. I thought I was doomed to the depths of that pain and anguish for the rest of my life. So I chased every "solution" that was offered to me and eventually found my comfort at the bottom of various bottles...and then I lost everything.

The irony of losing everything is that there is nothing that better clarifies the actual blessings in your life.

Today, I looked at the journal I started when I was in jail. Each day, I would write the thing that I was most grateful for that day...I made a rule for myself that I could not repeat an entry at any time during a week. Here is my entry for Thanksgiving day, 2003:

Soap.

Yes, soap. For those of you...likely most of you...that have not ever had the jail experience, I should just point out that the soap that is provided to you is, umm, less than special. If you want a "premium" soap like Family Dollar brand deoderant soap, you have to purchase it yourself from the jail commissary. And for that, you need money - which many inmates do not have. I had a little money, so I got the premium soap...and on that day, when I had absolutely nothing else, I was so profoundly thankful for that soap, that I had to write it down. When I got out of jail more than a year later, I bought a bottle of Olay Body wash and, when I got in the shower, I thought I was the richest, luckiest, most blessed person on the planet.

And I still think that - and I marvel at my blessings every single day. And I still can't smell Family Dollar brand deodorant soap without thinking of the time when that soap was the best thing I had.

This year has been an amazing year for me - and I directly attribute that to the deep sense of gratitude that I feel for all things good in my life. The more I acknowledge the good, the more profoundly I am blessed with people, opportunities, and experiences that perpetuate strength, love, and happiness in my life. The more I focus on joy and the less I focus on pain...the more joy I find, and the less pain I feel...without therapy, alcohol, or pills. Imagine that. It seems so simple to me now.

So, on this Thanksgiving Day...and every day...here is my list:

Family, friends old and new, Loco the Chihuahua, great music, sobriety, and the opportunity to reconnect. Many of you have stood by me on bad days, contributed to the great days...and all of you have inspired me to dream bigger. I make every effort to tell you often how much you mean in my life. If I haven't said it lately, slap me. I love you all. A side note about Facebook and Social Networking: I have reconnected, via this amazing internet, with a few people that I never thought I would see or hear from again. You know who you are :) Thank you for taking the time to see who I am today and for giving me the opportunity to learn from you once again.

And on that note...

I am going to eat some pecan pie....and I fucking LOVE pecan pie!!

Happy Thanksgiving...every day :)

Making Room for the Good Stuff

When you let go of the story you tell, a lot of times it creates
a whole world of expansion for other things to come in.
~Sheryl Crow~

I want what I want, when I want it - oh yeah, and have I mentioned that I am somewhat of a control freak?

"Surrender" is a difficult word for me on my very best days. To surrender, in most contexts, means to lose...to give up...to stop fighting...to let it go. I am not one to feel all that comfortable with any of those things, and that can be both good and bad.

Over the past year, I have had the opportunity to travel more than usual, flying here and there to visit family and friends. Ever the meticulous planner, anytime I have a trip, I spend hours checking out the various options on Expedia and Orbitz and all of those other services that promise to make things quick, easy, and painless. I pick my flights, check the times, make certain that I have plenty of time from one flight to the next on layovers...I ALWAYS plan out what seems to me to be an easy, no hassle, stress free trip. I arrive at the airport with plenty of time to go through security, get something to eat, and chill out with a book for a while before boarding the plane. I am in my happy place because I am in control :)

Then it starts to rain...in Pheonix, where my plane is coming from to pick me up on the way to Atlanta...where I have planned for an hour and a half between flights. So, cool. I planned for this. It's all good. Twenty minutes late, no problem. Boarding the plane, finding my seat, realizing that there will be a 2 year old behind me for the next 2 and a half hours. Ugh, no planning for that...but it's ok. Headphones rule. Thirty five minutes later, we are still on the ground. The wind is blowing weird so the pilot has decided that we need more gas. I reassure myself that gassing up is a good thing, I am blessed to be on a flight with a pilot who is as careful of a planner as me and wants to make sure all of the bases are covered. All gassed up, approved for departure....only 6 planes ahead of us on the runway. Touching down in Atlanta, I have a meager 30 minutes to make my connection...tight, but it will be ok. There is another plane at the gate - we must wait for it to move. 20 minutes later, in Terminal B, I ask the desk attendant what gate my new plane is departing from. Terminal T - have you ever seen the Atlanta airport???

My zen has completely disappeared, and I want to scream, fight, and blame every airline employee in Phoenix, Dallas, and Atlanta for the fact that I am not where I need to be...but, since I have no desire to be on the wrong end of airport security or give the airline any reason whatsoever to make my day even more difficult, I suck it up and graciously say thank you when I am informed that I will be able to be on the very next flight in 2 hours. Defeated, I sulk over to the food court to find something with lots of endorphin releasing fat and sugar (translation: a triple shot Espresso Truffle from Starbucks) to ease my wait and bring me back to center...

While drinking my coffee (ok, it is a triple caffeinated hot milkshake...just to be clear) in the crowded terminal, an elderly woman approaches me and asks if the seat next to me is taken. I am a little annoyed, as I am trying to pout by myself, but the annoyance disappears as she talks to me. She is 86 years old and on her way to see, for the first time, her great great grandchild. She is traveling by herself and has experienced many of the same kinds of obstacles and delays in her day as I have. She has photos, and stories, and a MUCH better attitude than me. By the time I reach the plane for the last leg of my trip, my heart is lighter, my zen has returned, and I am actually grateful for this delay.

Sometimes, giving up on something is the only way find the place where your energy is really meant to be. Typically, fighting only serves to make everyone involved just a little more miserable. And letting go of _________ (the blank is totally yours to fill in) is the surest way to free our arms to reach out and embrace the blessings that the universe has for us today.

For control freaks like me, that means planning for the story to change...