Saturday came and went…

And, here I am Sunday morning, writing Saturday’s entry. It happens. I had a rough day physically. We had a lot of plans, but my energy level was not cooperating. Much like when you plan to drive 100 miles on a journey, but you only have gas money for 75 miles. The last 25 you basically either push the car or scrounge around in the ashtray or glove compartment for extra change to make it the rest of the way to your destination. So I stretched and made it…sort of. Feeling tired and crunchy this morning with 5 gallons of stuff to do and about a half a gallon of gumption left in me.

But I sit in my quiet, tidy home and I give thanks. Thanks that God is good, thanks that He provides a roof and food, thanks that I have love in my life and a place to call home where fear is not a daily feature of my life. Many people are not as fortunate. At one time, I was not as fortunate.

I grew up chaotic, as they put it now. I frequently didn’t know what would happen in my world from one moment to the next. My mother was an addict, in a time when very few people knew what that was exactly, unless you were on skid row, which we weren’t. Just like today, many addicts appear to be functioning in our society, but within their families there is quiet dysfunction and a pulling apart of stability. We looked mostly okay, but as the oldest, I was the adult. I have done a lot of recovery work around my status as an adult child of an addict, and I am so much more recovered than I was even a few years ago. But the scars remain. It’s okay, because it keeps me in touch with my journey and the fact that I will always have areas to address and to grow in. I will need to work my recovery for the rest of my life. It took me over 50 years to get my rope in all these knots, it will likely take me just as long to untie them, with God’s help.

As the month goes on, we will explore a little more about recovery as an adult. I can only share what has been true of my journey and what I’ve observed. I have enough respect for each to you to know that while we are each humans that breath oxygen, need light and water, we feel and express a lot of these things in different ways. So while you may identify with some of my experiences or feelings, it is important to recognize that your personal recovery belongs to you. It won’t look necessarily like mine or anyone else’s. It’s something you own, and if recovery is appealing to you in ANY way, get out there and attend a meeting of your preference, whether it’s CODA (for codependency) AA, NA, CA or Celebrate Recovery (church based, where I go). Experience it for yourself and start your own journal. We each are recovering from something in this broken world.

You are precious, loved and worth it. Heart

Have a lovely Sunday!

 

 

 

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