Checking in
It has been 21 days since I posted anything. Long enough for Blogger to change it's interface and layout of the publishing page. I LIKE IT! I also figured that it was time for me to at least say something.
According to my sobriety calculator, I've been sober for 1,001 hours. That's 42 days. There was some alcohol floating around our recent family festivities and not even the slightest wish to partake. God has done something to my brain and I've ceased fighting. The struggle is no longer about alcohol at all. The healing has moved deeper inward to wounds I wasn't aware existed. The road to recovery is long and will probably be a life endeavor but the journey is now unencumbered by lies and a false sense of comfort. Pain hurts, joy is joyful, laughter is hilarity, tears are healing, the breath of life... a miracle.
I wasn't sure why I was uninspired to write anything for so long but I knew it was for a reason and I had an idea that God needed me to keep quiet for a while. Two days ago, I got an answer in my daily morning reading. The fact that I'm doing anything "daily", especially reading is, in itself, a small miracle. As I sat at my table, sipping coffee and reading from my sweet book of reflections, I read these words, "Anonymity is a way for me to work on my humility. Since pride is one of my most dangerous shortcomings, practicing humility is one of the best ways to overcome it." Blogging about every little emotion or trial I was facing on a daily basis was coming from a source of pride and I didn't even know it. Even now I am torn with whether or not I should be writing anything at all. Writing has always been cathartic for me. If it be privately in my own journal or blogging about daily minutia, it has proved a source of purification. Once my thoughts are out and written in words, they are out of my already muddled head. The fact that others read it and, sometimes, feed me back with comments makes it fun.
So, I'm saying all of this to say...my silence has been for a reason. I'm doing the work that is required of me and part of that task is to find humility and lots of it. The first couple of weeks of sobriety, I couldn't shut up about it. It was like I had uncovered some magical treasure and wanted everybody to know about it. Now, God is reverently drawing me to Himself and asking me to be still. When Kyle was little and would go through periods of wildly hyper activity, I would use "hug therapy". This is when I would ask him to come to me and I would simply hold him tightly until he calmed down. There were times when I wanted to squeeze him until his head popped off because my nerves were shot. But, in those moments of holding him to me, I could feel him calming, becoming centered, finding peace and giving up the fight. This is what God is doing with me now, hug therapy. I'm so thankful of His endless patience with me. Turning myself over to Him and surrendering all of my anxiety is one of the hardest things I've ever done. I've held onto it for so long. But now, tightly embraced in His glorious presence, I can feel peace coming.
According to my sobriety calculator, I've been sober for 1,001 hours. That's 42 days. There was some alcohol floating around our recent family festivities and not even the slightest wish to partake. God has done something to my brain and I've ceased fighting. The struggle is no longer about alcohol at all. The healing has moved deeper inward to wounds I wasn't aware existed. The road to recovery is long and will probably be a life endeavor but the journey is now unencumbered by lies and a false sense of comfort. Pain hurts, joy is joyful, laughter is hilarity, tears are healing, the breath of life... a miracle.
I wasn't sure why I was uninspired to write anything for so long but I knew it was for a reason and I had an idea that God needed me to keep quiet for a while. Two days ago, I got an answer in my daily morning reading. The fact that I'm doing anything "daily", especially reading is, in itself, a small miracle. As I sat at my table, sipping coffee and reading from my sweet book of reflections, I read these words, "Anonymity is a way for me to work on my humility. Since pride is one of my most dangerous shortcomings, practicing humility is one of the best ways to overcome it." Blogging about every little emotion or trial I was facing on a daily basis was coming from a source of pride and I didn't even know it. Even now I am torn with whether or not I should be writing anything at all. Writing has always been cathartic for me. If it be privately in my own journal or blogging about daily minutia, it has proved a source of purification. Once my thoughts are out and written in words, they are out of my already muddled head. The fact that others read it and, sometimes, feed me back with comments makes it fun.
So, I'm saying all of this to say...my silence has been for a reason. I'm doing the work that is required of me and part of that task is to find humility and lots of it. The first couple of weeks of sobriety, I couldn't shut up about it. It was like I had uncovered some magical treasure and wanted everybody to know about it. Now, God is reverently drawing me to Himself and asking me to be still. When Kyle was little and would go through periods of wildly hyper activity, I would use "hug therapy". This is when I would ask him to come to me and I would simply hold him tightly until he calmed down. There were times when I wanted to squeeze him until his head popped off because my nerves were shot. But, in those moments of holding him to me, I could feel him calming, becoming centered, finding peace and giving up the fight. This is what God is doing with me now, hug therapy. I'm so thankful of His endless patience with me. Turning myself over to Him and surrendering all of my anxiety is one of the hardest things I've ever done. I've held onto it for so long. But now, tightly embraced in His glorious presence, I can feel peace coming.
Well, Hi, Jenni.
ReplyDeleteMartine said to look you up.
Welcome.
A biker dude named Boyd gave me my 23 year chip Saturday.
It gets better. Sometimes a breath in and perhaps out at a time, but. It. Does. Get. Better.
Give us a roust. Especially if you're about to twist off. Phone calls are cheaper.
Seriously. Best wishes.
james