This posting contains adult language
I spoke with my brother (a fellow traveler on this road of recovery) earlier and he sounded so forlorn, even though he talking about how recovery has given him serenity even in the face of all of the mistakes he has made. He talked about how he knew he was crazy when he was 3. He mentioned how good things are today with his kids (from 18 to 35), etc, and that whatever he has done he is ok … that he is winding down his life, he’s in the 4th quarter and he knows it. But my sister, who lives in the same city but from whom he is estranged, always tells me stories about his kids hating him. And as he talked about his mistakes I wondered if he was speaking about them. He shared how great his relationships with 3 of his 4 kids are but how can there be such a disconnect? The price of the disease is high, and I wonder if his positive feelings are like our fears -- not necessarily based in reality. And I realized how very much I love him, despite everything that has gone on between us, and regardless of how anyone else feels about him.
But perhaps he was only talking in the same way that I do about my mistakes. And I don’t have major regrets. Of course I wish I hadn’t hurt the people I love, etc. But I don’t sit here wishing I hadn’t thrown away large sums money and gotten to this point financially, or of fucking up my liver by shooting dope 39 years ago. I know, with certainty that it took what it took for me to be where I am spiritually. And the feelings of warmth and safety that coexist with deep fears related to the magnitude of my liver disease (where will I go, how will I live, will I die alone) stem from my willingness to be free from self imposed pain. Recovery has taught me to seek the Light; in it I am safe.
And the Light is love.
This evening I had an immediate fearful reaction to news from my realtor. But then an amazing thing happened. I consciously refused to go towards the dark and I spoke to myself in a positive language. All I can do is what I can do, and I scanned my brain for the actions that I am taking, and thought about possible actions I could take. Having done that my heart ceased racing and a calmness settled in. I am safe. I cannot change the past. I can only take actions today so I must take sober (in every sense of the word) actions. I don't know what tomorrow (or 10 minutes from now) will bring. I know that the Divine works miracles, but I also know that I have to do my part, to create a space for the Light to enter. And those are the actions that I thought about. And those are the actions that I am taking.
Fear pops up, but in sobriety the shade of darkness is never completely drawn -- there is always a tiny ray of light that shows me there is a shade and that I can open it.