On a recent journey to just get out-of-town and have a change of scene, I spent some time just free-form chatting with folks who are not in a structured recovery program.

We discussed life’s challenges, delights and some politics, though I attempted to steer the discussion away from anything too polarizing as such things can be very subjective and tend to devolve into arguments that no one wins and leaves a sour smell in the air.

Slowly, I began to realize that, as our heads come together in that we start figuring our darn selves out, and accepting life on it’s terms, our bodies are beginning to fall apart. Now, I know for some fitness-minded folk who run marathons in their 70’s and 80’s this is not the case, but for many of us, environment and genetics, as well as poor choices in our past have taken their toll, and now we are struggling with real physical wreckage. Some with life-threatening illnesses, such as hepatitis and other systemic issues, while others (like me) spent so much of the last several decades worrying and controlling everyone else, we didn’t care for our own needs and/or indulged ourselves in unhealthy excess.

Either way, as we come to terms with our recovering minds and spirits, making peace with God and who we are now, our bodies seemingly fight us tooth, claw and nail. Some days this is inconvenient. Other days, it becomes downright discouraging. I am making better choices, why don’t I feel better? And as we age, our bodies lose the ability to bounce back quite as effectively as they did even 10 years ago.

But this too is a part of my recovery process, and I must submit. The present physical results I live with in the here and now is something I must accept. I can only do my best for this moment, right now, and leave the rest to the creator of my being, He that formed my inmost parts. My part, the part I can take responsibility for, is to eat right, get sufficient rest and seek professional medical assistance when needed. But becoming morose and angry because I am not at 110% will accomplish nothing, and if anything will only set me back. Again, accepting life on life’s terms.

Another prescription against continuing down a grumbly, kick the rocks (ouch!) road is gratitude. I am grateful for my recovery. I am grateful for God who allowed me to have the faith to believe in the process of recovery that could deliver me from insanity. I am grateful for the people that surround me and love me despite my critical and somewhat quirky, odd nature. I am grateful for healthy family members. And I could go on and on, but you get the idea.  Whenever those pesky, grumbly, non-productive, less-than thoughts pop in, raise up your shield of gratitude and they will bounce off like a ping-pong ball off a cement wall.

Wishing you much love and joy on this late spring day!