Strings and scissors

It’s amazing how digging into recovery continues to yield rewards and growth. I am still struggling with my eating, however, so, 2 steps forward…kind of like a cha cha. The recovery cha cha.

In a meeting recently during our quiet time, I sought guidance from God for my recovery journey. And what I was given took my breath away. I saw a picture come into view of a puppet, strings on each limb, and one running up from it’s head to a frame that spelled out the word “addiction”. God said “The addictions and dysfunctional behaviors are like strings on a puppet. They control your movement or restrict it.” And what’s more, in seeing the puppet dangling there, I realize how comfortable the strings feel in their familiarity. And at times, it is I wrapping my hands round them tightly.

In working my program, I am mustering the gumption, the willingness to hand God the scissors. To be free. To be a real person, not bound by the prison of the strings directing my movement and direction. But in order to be willing, I must work diligently to overcome my fear. Fear of leaving the comfort of the familiar behind. The strings came about in an effort to cope with the difficulties in life. Imperfect though they were, there were days when it was all that bound me together, and gathering the courage to cut them is no small feat.

When we spend time unravelling the mystery of why the strings exist in the first place, oftentimes we find our past was littered with broken promises, broken people (including ourselves) and choices we made in light of incomplete information. In short, we come to accept that we did the best we could with what we were given.

Now, we find in recovery we each have better tools. I am not the same person, with respect to coping with the chaos and disorder in life, that I was when I began to walk the road of recovery. I am grateful every day for this fact alone.   I can travel through sad, angry and happy feelings without choosing to act out in ways that could hurt myself and others. I have traded instinctual reaction for choice and response. I don’t hit the mark every time. But I know how to sit down with those I trust and work out my shortcomings and deal with them, instead of running from one disaster after another.

The strings were my place of comfort, my refuge, my prison. As I allow each one to be cut, I am freed. Free to choose, free to allow God to direct my thoughts and actions in a way that honors Him, myself and others, rather that the selfish, self-seeking ways of the past.

Dear Lord, I ask for continued peace and serenity as you continue to gently snip the strings on my bondage. I wish to be free.

Much Love. ❤

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