If you’ve ever been to an “anonymous type” meeting, you’ve probably heard about this strange word called acceptance.  Dictionary.com defines as “the act of taking or receiving something offered.  favorable reception; approval; favor. the act of assenting or believing.” At meetings all over the universe tonight, I imagine wise folks with many years mouthing the word “acceptance” when someone flops a problem down on the recovery table.

That being said, acceptance appears to be *gulp* … “taking it” with “a favorable reception” and “believing it to be true”.  Holy shitcakes. This means that when I have difficulties (as most of us do of course) I’m to not only buy it but be glad to do so?? What the hell does that mean?  That there is some rhyme or reason to all this madness?  That if I keep putting one foot in front of the other that there will be a purpose or knowledge gleaned or some kind of courage found that wasn’t there before? That maybe just maybe what doesn’t kill us … yeah that phrase.

Maybe there’s not a reason. It could be that life is life. That fairness doesn’t exist and there’s no grand justice or big daddy in the sky that keeps a tally. I don’t know.  Don’t have that answer. What I do know is that I can remember. Remember who I really, truly am … way down deep … when the shit hits the fan.  Full of honesty, courage, strength, truth, fortitude, willingness … yeah the stuff I dig.

So perhaps the whole acceptance thing is like military issue glasses. Not much for looks or bling or even pizazz but brings some serious clarity in Buddy Holly frames.  What’s the nitty gritty of the “work” that we do in recovery?  Gettin on with the gettin on … the “no matter what” of it all.  Grit your teeth and accept it. Some of us even do it with some grace and style.  Personally I’m still a bit teenager-ish about it, the tantrums lessen every month or so and hissy fits become funny.

“And acceptance is the answer to all my problems today. When I am disturbed, it is because I find some person, place, thing or situation — some fact of my life — unacceptable to me, and I can find no serenity until I accept that person, place, thing or situation as being exactly the way it is supposed to be at this moment. ”  (pg. 417 BB 4th ed.)

Accept the things I cannot change … (serenity prayers worldwide)

“Take it” …  “with favorable reception” … “and believe”.  And whom or what you believe to be a power greater than you… (mine is a room full of drunks)  they still continue to laugh at me as I look over top of my glasses with eye rolls and middle fingers.  They accept me with all my flaws and tantrums and silliness that comes from thinking that I’m more important than I really am. They accept me with open arms and the knowledge that we share the same flawed perceptions peppered with humor. THEY YOU accept me… who the hell am I not to accept myself?

And as I continue to look over those ‘glasses’… when I decide to finally look through them again, life seems more than half full. Optimism through a reality strainer. Accepting that everything is as it should be at this very moment… it’s MY eyes that are the problem. Myopia and astigmatism in the guise of pessimistic belligerence. My prescription? A healthy dose… of acceptance.

How about … enough is enough, tough enough, i’m not enough, you’ve done enough, enough said, more than enough, not good enough… gah. (That’s an odd word when you type it a couple dozen times btw.) All meaning … according to Merriam and her hot man Webster:   occurring in such quantity, quality, or scope as to fully meet demands, needs, or expectations. (i.e., STOP) 

When exactly dost thou cup runneth ovah?

or “more than a mouthful isn’t necessary” HEY I DON’T BELIEVE THAT. hmmph.

Overstimulated. Used to love it. Now? Not so much. I’ve become a much more “middle of the road” type chick; due to recovery and I believe a little bit of aging gracefully. Emotions lambasted at the end of a happy stick can ‘stick’ in my craw just as much as being downtrodden. I’d like to say that I still have a sense of adventure; still like to do “donuts” in my car in an abandoned parking lot in winter. (like I did when I was 16 sporting my mustang and a couple dozen shots of tequila) Nowadays not so much. I look back on that with zero fondness and a sense of “If my kids ever did that I would KILL them”. Yeah my brand new minivan won’t do that anyway.  (Yikes. Minivan. Well at least I have MILF status. I think. Yeah. Pretty sure of that. Sayin’. )

When the hell did I get old? Or smart. Or less “risky” (no I didn’t say risque. THAT is still intact… thank the gods. Every girl needs to keep a little “trashy” at hand, just to keep it interesting. Don’t look at me like that. Or do. Oh hell.) Did this whole sobriety thing take away my sense of adventure? (not a chance in hell. my definition of “adventure” has just changed.)

Living a life fully aware and awake is the greatest adventure. Allowing ourselves to live with no apologies or pretense for being FULLY who we are? Well that’s just got adventure written all over it.  Every day, every moment, is a chance to see all the beauty around you.

You see the problem with thrill seeking behavior is you have to keep upping the ante. Every time sucking down more and more risky to get your proverbial rocks off. Until you either bite the big one or get hurt or irritate everyone around you to the point of being alone. (now apply the previous sentence to a past relationship. ouch. that stings.)

True contentment blossoms from the inside out. NO MATTER WHAT YOU’RE DOING. And balance? Well that’s just the shizznit right there. Being content in your own space whether you’re on a roller coaster or meditating or having sex or not so much or going “out” or staying under covers.

If YOU are down with “it” well then everything else seems pretty freakin’ awesome. You don’t HAVE fun. (this is a passive verb) You CREATE fun. (this is an action verb) Get it? Good.

Know when enough is enough. Listen to the inner winner that shouts… wtf man you’re looking outside of yourself for excitement again. knock it off.  Yeah. THAT voice. It could come from your sponsor or (hopefully someday eventually) your gut or from something you read. Secret is inventory. Watch your thrill seeking behavior that mimics active use (unhealthy jealous stalking stuck-together-at-the-hip relationships are a good example of this). You’ll be glad you did.

oh yes. and speaking of this word “enough”. You are. That. Just the right amounts of amazing and wonderful. Remember that k? K. Love you AND recovery. Peace.

Let me share the most amazing moment of an amazingly glorious weekend.

So there I am, minding my own business (which I never do), and a pretty redhead shouts my name as I’m walking into the big meeting Saturday night at the stadium.  I recognize her immediately.  She says … You probably don’t remember me … and I interrupt her with her name and a big hug. She begins with explaining where I would know her from and I laugh. You see she’s one of the ones that I’d never forget. One of the girls in early recovery who was a mirror image of me when I got sober. She begins to tell me how much I helped her eleven years ago when she was my patient in treatment.

I let her talk and tell me where she is now and how happy she is … but she really didn’t have to go into detail. The eyes said it all. Bright and shining and full of love and life and most of all … hope. When I knew her at the tender age of 19, her eyes were less than shiny.  And I’m not going to front her out here because that’s just epically uncool. But let’s just say that she didn’t have a lot of life experience to be hopeful about. Just as I didn’t. When I came into the rooms at 19 years old.

I listened with tears in my eyes. You see she was “stubborn” and “difficult” and … well pretty much I loved her completely because I KNEW where that came from.  You see my treatment groups were therapy focused but none of that mumbo jumbo malarky about “you’re a drunk and dope fiend because mommy and daddy were mean.” Oh no. We took responsibility in loud voices and confronted our diseases with laughter and tears and intensity. Just like I hoped their recovery would be after they left me. For treatment isn’t recovery … it’s discovery. And that fact was thumped quite often.

So we walked down memory lane a bit. She finally took a breath and I had so many things I wanted to say … but couldn’t. Like she had helped me more than I could have ever helped her. That I was so proud of the woman she’d become. That she had pretty much made my lifetime because of all the things to remember from a decade ago … she remembered some of the things we learned together. That she was beautiful and smart and amazing and a woman of recovery grown from a wounded girl.

But I didn’t have to say a word. She KNEW. It was written in the way she talked and walked and holy crap … she was an example of what I want to be when I grow up (although I’m sure she doesn’t see herself that way.) I managed to mumble “I’m so proud of you and you helped me too.”

To which she replied … “We helped each other didn’t we? Because we cared.”

Yes we did. We sure did. You never know what one kind word will do. Never realize how you can impact another. I’m sure she’ll never know how much hope she gave me all those years ago. Or maybe she will. She’s a pretty smart cookie after all.  See it’s not about the “me”. It’s about the “we”. And we’re examples of recovery no matter where we are. Even me as a 28 year old addictions counselor who just happened to be a big book thumping hard core recovery chick. Eleven years ago. Amazing. In the place where it all started … one person helping another which in turns helps … the helper. Sound familiar? It oughtta.

(and don’t even get me started on meeting my mentor and best friend Ron P. from Texas. omg. then I’ll be in full out tears. but we’ll leave that for another blog. thankfully)

I got in a mood today. Okay last night really. A ‘mood’. You know the one. The kind where my diseased thinking overwhelms me and I begin to live in the house that fear built. I hate that mood.  It lasted til’ I shared it … which is pretty much usually the case.  Good thing is it happens less frequently than it used to, so that it feels so uncomfortable and puts me sooooo out of sorts that I feel a physical discomfort.

Why did I feel this way? Hmm. Okay. I can do some 10th-steppish-ness for a minute. I love stepwork.

I have lots on my plate. Just like you do of course. Kids and work and writing and new engagement and future planning and attorney talking to and on and on and on some more.  Throw in a feature on a spoken poetry radio show and all the happiness that being sober and in love can bring and whoa!!!

SITUATION OVERLOAD. (secret… even the “good” stuff can cause stress. yes indeed.)

So. What happens next if I allow it? The little fingers of fear creep in and stroke my brain. The “oh my god I have so much to do” and “oh my god i’m all by myself” and “oh my god how am i ever going to do all this” and on and on and … freakin’ on.  And of course I act out a bit. Yanno. Push people away. Blame them for my behaviors. Sit in my crappy diaper because my crap doesn’t smell as bad as anyone elses. (thank you Radford Virginia AA for that quote)

This is where ingrained recovery behaviors (the repetition factor here kids) come into play.  I KNOW instinctively I need to inventory this and process before I make an even bigger mess than I already had.  Grabbing a woman in recovery and spilling it… listening to words of compassion like “that’s an awful lot to deal with. I bet that’s scary for you. I’m right here with you.” make all the difference.

To know I’m not alone is HUGE.  I’ve always been a loner. Stick to myself idealogy taught a very long time ago to keep me safe. From what? Pain. But now? It has the opposite effect. I cannot be alone anymore. CAN NOT.  Feels wrong in my gut to carry stuff around.  I’m a naturally sunny, happy chick and to be less than that? Feels awkward and unnatural.

The other epic point in all this is me learning to let the “GOOD” stuff happen. I can handle the trauma drama sagas quite well, thank you very much.  But give me happiness with no strings attached??? WTF is THAT? *sigh*

So as ever, I remain a work in progress. Cleaning up my messes as I go, and hopefully folks will understand.  If not, I’ve cleaned my side of the street, owned my behaviors, and hitched a ride on the “back to reality train”.  No more can I do.  No more is required of me to stay sober today.

I have maintained my spiritual condition to the very best of my ability, and I’m not always privy to the end result.   Most times the results are none of my business. MY business is to be the very best me I can possibly be and what a relief THAT is. I soooo love recovery.

Yeah. Overused topic. But with a twist. Any given night you can be sure that the topic of any 12 step meeting could very well be “gratitude”.  What are you grateful for? blah blah. Now I’m not mocking … for once. This is important.

I’ve been to a few meetings on this topic. More like a few hundred.  Okay possibly a thousand. I’ve got almost twenty years of meetings under my belt. That’s not saying much really. Anyone can show up. Which is exactly my point in this bloggity blog.

Best comment ever heard on this subject. My first sponsor, in all her old-timerish-kentucky-bred-hard-core-lovable glory…

You can say you’re grateful all ya damn want. What are you DOING? Gratitude is an ACTION. Now get busy.

Gods above I miss that woman. Ruby with her ruby red slip on shoes. Taught me so very much with so few words.  Every time I’d say “I’m so grateful” with my 20 year old self, she’d spit and say “I don’t believe you. What are you doin’ to show it?”

Her point was that it was one thing to SAY something; an entirely different act altogether to show it.  If you’re grateful for your family or friends or job or spouse or recovery … what actions are you taking to prove that?  Words need to match behavior.

That… was a huge lesson for me. Still is.

If you’re anything like I am, and I have a sneaking suspicion you might very well be; I gave tons of lip service while using. “I’ll do better. Be better. Stop lying. Stop drinking. Stop stealing.” All the while still doing WHAT I wanted WHEN I wanted HOW I wanted and with WHOM I wanted.  Just words. Meaningless without action to make it different. To make ME different.

So if I am in fact … grateful, what are my actions showing? Am I willing to go to any lengths to talk to newcomers? Am I showing recovery behaviors even in situations where I just plain don’t wanna? How’s my work ethic?  Am I spending quality time with my family (who I’m so grateful for)?

Or am I doing just enough… to get by?

Gratitude as an action. Sorta a show-me-don’t-tell-me sorta slant. And by “me” I don’t mean me personally. But the people in YOUR life, who matter; even and especially yourself.  So… whatcha DOIN?

“You are so bright and happy, even at work. Are you always like this or is there something wrong with you?”

To which, of course, I replied… A little of both. You see I like both aspects of this compliment/tease from one of my favorite people at work. First of all, I like that I’m seen as bright, which I am most days; and of course that it seems a little “odd” to someone NOT in recovery.  Both equal transparency. Both are absolutely 100% truth.

You see, we have a solution today. A seemingly infallible way to deal with whatever is ailing our addled brains. Twelve steps to rely on to clear out the wreckage of self and sick and twisted. A way out. A SOLUTION.  So that we don’t have to stay stuck.  Once you know the way out, it’s like riding a bicycle. A little wobbly at first yet the moment you begin your muscles instinctively remember how to pedal.

The steps are like that for me anyway.  I’ve been steppin’ times 12 for nearly two decades (with a brief intermission for idiocy).  I can tell a distinct difference when I don’t do a daily tenth step.  To be honest, this stumps some people in my life.  That I don’t put my issues ON them.  That I’d rather work through it and come back later to resolve if need be or simply let go of the situation. After close examination of my behavior and reactions, I am fully able to LET IT GO.  Make amends if necessary and after discussing with an objective party (usually my sponse/bff/killer cool bestie blonde chick – *waves at Kat*)  Checking things out with someone NOT in the situation is vital.  Yes. VITAL.

If left to my own devices, if I try to resolve things without really looking at my part? It gets ugly.  Definitely easier to blame you for my feelings and reactions than examine where I had been selfish, dishonest, self seeking, and afraid.  (Sound familiar??? It should.  It’s the fourth step inventory and for me the tenth step as well. Written. Yes.)

No matter WHAT someone else does to me, real or imagined; I cannot look at their part in things.  What’s important is the way I react.  That is ALL I am responsible for today.  What a relief really.  I mean if someone is being an ass (like people do from time to time), I look at my part.

• How did I want this person to think and act MY way? With no regard for the situation or perception, when I want YOU to do what I want YOU to do; it is FAIL. Selfish.
• What behavior did I exhibit in response to your behavior? Did I knee-jerk, as I am wont to do? Did I get pissy or angry or yell or cry to get my way? Did I arouse bitterness or suspicion? Did I talk behind your back? Did I punish you in some way?  This is Self Seeking.
• Did I lie and say nothing was wrong? Did I lie out of self preservation? Did I omit details to make myself look better? Dishonest.
• Was I afraid of your reaction? What you think of me? What the repercussion would be? Was fear filling my gullet like an impregnated sperm whale? Afraid.

This is my 10th step. This is what keeps the crap from building up inside stroking my sick; my guided meditative directions that prevent me from falling back into the same patterns of addictive thinking.  THIS … is my daily housecleaning. How I was taught by the oldtimers, how I keep MY behavior in the forefront instead of blaming ALL OF YOU … for my issues.  Like windex for the soul, it is my salvation most days.

Now some don’t get this at all. A few that are close to me, and you know who you are, want to address things right on the spot.  To which I simply say … I need to process this first and then I’ll get back to you.  The issue is mine, or at least feels that way, and I have to look at my stuff. Nine times out of ten, it’s resolved quickly and the emotional boo boo is kissed by the lips of the tenth step.

What a revelation, gift, tool, blessing … freedom. To not be burdened by trying to control others emotions and behavior? Freakin’ priceless.  This leads to my mostly sunny days.  Sure I cry. Yes it’s not always sunshine and roses. But I embrace those days too as it can’t be sunny ALL the time.  Fortunately in my world there is just enough tears raining down to make the flowers grow.  Just… enough.

And for the second part of this morning’s comment? The “is there something wrong with you?” question?  Well. Duh. I just explained that.  There’s tons wrong with me. It’s my natural inclination as an alcoholic to be selfish. To want others to think and act MY way. The “if only” syndrome. If only people would … do what I wanted the world would be a better place.  How arrogant.

These days I’m satisfied, most days, to accept my flaws and imperfections and to know that I’m NOT in charge.  I like that.  If I were in charge? Whoa baby, we’d all be in trouble.  So yes, with step work, I can remain positive. And YES, there’s lots of things wrong with “me”.  I’m completely and totally okay with both.  Not to mention grateful.  But that’s another blog entirely.  Step ten saves my ass every single time. Thank the gods … whomever they may be.

Joking around, the only way a truly sassy girl can do, one of my dear friends who happens to be a Judge (literally) commented on a member status or two.  I was engaged in a silly conversation about taking saucy pictures in a bathroom, when I was told about my ‘godlessness’.

Now, I’m used to hecklers, it comes with the territory you know; being a writer and all. Not everyone likes you or what you write and I wouldn’t want them too. One must have thick skin and a decent constitution to expose themselves on a page everyday telling things that most would cringe to even contemplate.  I like the freedom honesty can bring. Besides, hecklers keep you humble. But I digress… back to my ‘godlessness’…

What struck me about the comments were the shaming nature in reference to God. How God couldn’t possibly like humor and/or sex and couldn’t possibly approve of a girl like me enjoying her sexuality.  How I needed “prayed for” and to read my Bible.  Not the first time and won’t be the last.  I love the attention to my spiritual condition.  What folks don’t know could fill a universe. Hell what I don’t know could fill twice that much.  Stimulating to be sure, it made for an interesting night on the internets.

Introspective 10th step time, I examined the whole debacle with recovery eyes.  And slowly a HUGE smile crept to my face.  Paradoxically twisting things, which I like to do often; I got smacked with the realization of what an amazing gift we have in recovery. Yes. I know I’m a mistress of the obvious. I’m k with that.  But sometimes things get placed under a microscope and become so very clear.

I’ve been in recovery since 1992. That is more than half my life. I was raised in the rooms of AA and this is where my conceptions on a higher power were solidified.  Discarding my Catholic upbringing (not that anything is wrong with that. put the pitchforks down), I began a sojourn into spiritual knowledge. Studying all the major, and minor, religions extensively; I was given the freedom to find what fit with who I am.  Without reproach or preaching, gentle and kind NO ONE cared what I believed in… as long as I believed in something.

That is not a luxury most are given in this world.  To be surrounded by folks from ALL different belief systems, including none at all; existing in harmony. Do we realize how AMAZING that is? I mean, if you look at almost all the violence in our ancient and recent past; it stems from religious differences.  My God is better than your God.  My God can kick your God’s ass. Your God wears combat boots. *groan* But it happens and you know it. My almost two decades in the rooms has been devoid of this posturing about God/religion/spirituality.  Anything you believe is completely okay. How cool is THAT???

Talk about freedom. Talk about beauty. Talk about ‘not the norm’. Talk about a beautiful epiphany. And talk about being grateful once again for wisdom to know the difference.  My dear friend the Paul H. (the Judge) thanks for your comical comment “shameless hussy”.  Yes. I am shameless. And my higher power wouldn’t have it any other way. He/She/It … laughs his/her/it’s butt off at me every single day.  We got it like that. No shame in this game. Not even a little.

Just another reason that … I Love Recovery. Shameless Hussy or not so much … ‘my’ HP loves that about me.

“Yeah my neighbor is one of them there drunks in that triple A thing. Always talkin’ bout them meetings and all that bunk. Man he doesn’t need them stupid brain washers.  All he needs is to grow a set. Like me. I drink all the time but I ‘CONTROL’ it.  He’s a pansy.”

Okay there’s lots to comment on here. And/or make fun of. But I shan’t. I also won’t tell you what I said in response. Children could be present. *eye roll*

Nothing burns my proverbial butt more than when I hear someone say that addiction is a “lack of will power”. WHAT??? Seriously? If people only knew how much will power it takes to drink and drug and lie and steal and cheat and THEN have your head convince you that nothing is wrong??? The sheer force of will it takes to continue to scheme and manipulate to maintain the ability to use in the face of life continuing to bitch slap us?

I mean really. If were a matter of a will power match up? I’d choose one of us dope fiends and drunks over a normie anyday. Seriously.  How much pain can one person withstand?  I’d be fingers bent backwards, knuckles screaming in pain, with someone standing on my neck before I’d EVER cry Uncle.  True dat.

I so wish it were will power instead of a disease.  It’d be so much easier to simply “WILL” away my physiological differences, my liver enzymes, brain chemistry, my ability for tolerance (needing more to produce the same effect).  Hell yes I’ll just pick myself up by my bootstraps and just “QUIT IT”.

Kinda takes the wind out of the 12 step sails yes? The “we are physically and mentally different than our fellows” the whole “allergy to alcohol” slant.

Hell all the doctors in the world are wrong. Addiction is simply a matter of a bad upbringing.  (Tell my mother that one and she’ll smack ya) Or other problems in childhood.  Weak character.  The American Medical Association is a bunch of quacks. As well as the rest of the world’s medical and scientific community.

power ... we got it ... aka HP

WHY??? Because Henry Hillbilly says it’s simply a matter of willpower.  Perhaps it’s not a matter of WILL power … but a different kind of power that’s the issue.  I’d say as a group we’re a pretty ‘willful’ bunch. That got us no where. A power greater (whatever that might mean to you) was missing. So says the Big Book so says my using career.  Right. Power.

GAH!!! I got your will power right here bub. Tell an addict/alcoholic to DO something? See how quick they buck.  Even to the point of self destruction.  Hell most would even agree with ya.

Best line ever heard at a meeting on this subject.

“I used to say that I’d rather be a bad person than a sick alcoholic. If I’m EVIL or BAD … there’s no hope for that. I’m sunk. If I’m SICK … there is a TREATMENT. A daily reprieve based on the maintenance of my spiritual condition.  There is hope.”

I like that. Force of will. We have it. Always have. Just now? We use it for the healthy. Use to seek like minded folks. Use it to seek a power greater than ourselves. Use it … to seek recovery. May the force be with you. Luke… I am your father. Oh hell. Totally wrong quote.

Disclaimer: No hillbillies were harmed in the making of this blog. Any similarity to person’s real or imagined is purely purposeful and intentional. Offense intended. That is all.

Had a minor epiphany. Lightbulb moment. No I wasn’t listening to Meatloaf. But I could be at any given moment. Okay not really. But that particularly song is sorta cool in a dance and sing your face off kinda way.  Right? Okay.

This is going to be short and sweet. Sometimes those are the best kind. No long drawn out malarky. K? K. Dialogue earlier in the day…

Important person in my life:  I’m sorry it’s that way.

Me: Don’t be sorry. If I didn’t choose for it to be that way… it’d be different.

Okay. Sounds silly and simplistic. But is it? I think of all the situations in my life.  About all the things I CHOOSE everyday.  The people in or out of my peripheral line of consciousness, the image I portray, my attitude, immediate surroundings; every single one of them are choices.

I am not a victim in my own life.

Serenity prayer. Courage to change the things I can.  Yep. I am a product of what I’ve created. Best I can do is keep that idea front and center in my consciousness. I HAVE A CHOICE TODAY… in everything. Even the people, places, and things in my life unacceptable to me (ooh that sounds an awful lot like Dr. Paul’s story. you know Acceptance is the answer to all my blah blah blah. Great read. Try it sometime. Big Book third edition pg 449)

Oooh. I love it when a blog comes together. As the writing on the wall (literally newest blurb posted in my ‘thinking corner’) next to my computer nook tells me everyday …

Choose wisely my friends.

umm. wrong ass.

Sometimes … we need to take a break. Especially and most importantly, when we’re in a sick thinking mindset.  Taking a short bit of time to breathe and find out what the hell is going on with ya badself … is epically important. Yes I used epic. Yes. It fits.

In the fast pace of returning to a life well lived… a sober life, fraught with all the responsibilities that comes with being a productive member of society; you I need to take time to reconnect.  When I don’t? It’s not pretty.

Let me give you a laundry list of why nots. Which are all bullshit of course in this day and age of the internets and a million ways to connect.

• lack of childcare and guilt over asking reluctant family to watch my mini ninjas
• a ‘i can just inventory’ mentality. not feeling the need to show my proverbial tuckus (which is very much needed for this sick chick)
• time. there isn’t ever enough of it really. work and kids and homework and writing and and and … blah blah blah. (yes i do know this is my sick talking)

See writing inventories is vital. But so is the sharing. The challenging of thinking that stinks. Whether on the phone, email, in a poem, whatever ~ I MUST… show the sick. No matter what anyone thinks.

This is the key to staying sober/clean. This sharing. “Telling on.” And so… I am.

I don’t have to do everything ‘right’ you know. On the path and in the journey is all that is required of me.  Thank the gods that I don’t HAVE to have it all together.  There is freedom in that.  If you have folks in your life that DON’T show their rump (sick, disease, whatever) get around some.  Run. Don’t walk. There are no judges, hung jury, or executioners in ‘recovery land’.  We’re all doing the best we can with what we got.  One thing I have learned to love about me is my willingness to tell on myself and then find the lesson and THEN … the humor.  Cause’ if I’m not laughing? I’m a goner. Truth.

Humility is a beautiful thing.  Perfectionism is for pansies. Real courage is a truth telling sojourn into the ‘real’.  Thanks for being here with me. And for laughing with me at my tanning booth tan lines… rump style.  You know. That white spots where you lay on your back? The pressure point? Yeah. That one.

But in reality? We are  …

because beauty in the eye of the recovery beholder? Can look like a hot mess, in a dress of course.  Honesty is beautiful. Real is beautiful. Raw is beautiful. YOU … are beautiful. And maybe I am too. With all my flawed perfect imperfections.  I like the idea of that. Lots.