Strength. What does it mean really? We’re told in the rooms that sometimes we have to “lose” to win.  That surrender is the goal.  That throwing in the proverbial towel equals the path to finding “enlightenment” or at least the 12 steps towards such a thing.  Paradoxical to say the least.  We, who have been through so very much in our addictions, have strength untold and bear some wicked scars.  Lived through the dark night of the soul and survived to see the light on the other side.  Many times not even being aware we’re walking the way of courage.

The Walking Wounded.  I had a friend that described early recovering people that way.  Picture someone with a gaping chest wound walking and talking (somewhat) normally and not even realizing they’re oozing sick.  Some of us have been fortunate to get that gaping gash healed.  We know instantaneously when we see another of “our kind”, and we look down at our own healed scars.  Full of compassion we reach out to them and welcome them to their time of healing.

Thinking on scars, and I have more than a few literal ones too; the skin has seamed back together miraculously and many times that bond has made the area stronger.  Layer upon layer upon … layer of tough new cells form a mark of courage.  Strength in the survival, the knowledge gleaned, the tears shed have made a healing halo that can be seen by those who have the eyes.

Some of my most turbulent life moments have made me the woman I am today.  So easy when we’re in the middle of whatever new life drama that erupts, to give in to hopelessness and despair.  Transversely we have a new choice; a new way of thinking … as one epic story in the Big Book describes, a “new pair of glasses”.  Somewhere we begin to remember that there is dignity in the struggle and happy endings mean simply … we make a choice to be happy.

Our diseased thinking will tell us that this “trauma” will never end.  The chest wound (once we’re well enough to see it) will never close up and that things will remain the same.  I felt that way for a moment just this past year.  Seemed as if  Murphy’s Law ruled my life and that’s just the way it was gonna be.  House in foreclosure because of Prince Charmingless shenanigans, divorce, car wrecks, single motherhood, a return back to work, surgery, court battles times twenty. Phew. Just writing that makes my stomach turn a bit.  But oddly enough … as I’m coming to the other side of things; I had a moment of clarity.

Mail man cometh. After months of mediation, Ninja house (as of today) is safe. Workers comp (another legislative romp) appeal approved.  Relatively stable income and a budding writing career *smirk – yay!*.   Honestly? That doesn’t mean much.  K.  Don’t get me wrong … I am grateful. The epiphany came from somewhere completely different.

The work of recovery. The. Work. The no matter what of it all.  The non-freaking-out-ism of life’s bitch slaps, and remaining calm in the face of adversity.  Feeling it, for a bit, then moving on.  REALLY moving on.  Doing the next right thing, even and especially if I didn’t want to.  And trust me, I didn’t always have the “want to”.

Equanimity – the quality of remaining calm, serene, or unruffled, esp. under stress; composure.
And as I sit tonight looking at my bright pink scars, just so recently healed; I am aware and awake. Internalized stepwork says so.  See, even if I would’ve lost Ninja House, or all the court hearings, or a little bit of my sanity … it would’ve been okay.  No matter what.  THAT right there?  Is strength.  And the only reason I have it, is because of you.  Gift given so freely by those with the same beautiful mosaic of scar tissue.   Late night sanity checks with J, Kat just being there even when I was unable to be present, all the folks on ITR.  (I could go on for hours … but I shan’t. I’m beginning to bore myself with all this sappy)

Strength from the walking through of pain. Joy gleaned from sorrow. Serenity stolen from chaos.  Matters not the situation, recovery is innate.  ‘Cause life? Happens.  You can happen too. “Happen” to be okay with you; no matter what. Now lemme see them scars. No I don’t care where they are.  I’m not shy.