Reviewing 2010

It feels like the year raced by, and it has been quite a year filled with disappointment and failure and loss and blessing and joy and success and wonder. Life happened, with all its ups and downs, and I am grateful for it. I have tried to learn from the bad as well as the good, and as I review the year and know that in some respects I am not back to where I was this time last year, I am glad that mistakes do not have to mean that a permanent state of failure has been placed on my life and that it really is all about progress not perfection.

I heard recently that what you are doing at the start of the year represents what you will be doing for the year ahead. I don't know if that is true or not, but I can see how I spent so much of 2010 dealing with the feelings and thoughts and actions that stemmed from what happened New Year's Eve night and early morning New Year's Day.

A year ago tonight my boyfriend relapsed after years clean and sober. I had just celebrated my first year of sobriety a week earlier but managed not to follow him into the wasted streets of New Orleans. In less than three weeks into the year Andrew died, and our dreams were turned to ashes like his body. And much of my year had that flavoring of struggling with sobriety and burying friends and loved ones.

I met someone a couple weeks later who became a good friend and who joined with one of my very best friends in helping me not to mess up moments after hearing the news that my lover had been found dead of an overdose. I did not relapse at that time and a couple weeks later celebrated 13 months of sobriety for the first time since I was 13 years of age. 2010 was filled with friendships, some old, some that were fresh starts of relationships from years ago, and some that were completely new. I learned to lean on friends and ask for help, and that is why I am sitting here this morning able to write these words. I am alive and sober today because of my friends, the most important of whom also happens to be my Creator.

I ran from my feelings of guilt and regret and resentment, and my program suffered. I reached my fourteenth month of sobriety, but by then the war had turned ugly, and I was losing. I mentioned earlier that I learned to lean on my friends, but I learned that lesson by not doing it during the first part of the year, or at least not doing it enough. In February of this year, with the recommendation from the friend I made the month before, I finally found employment after 15 months without a job. So as the second month of the year came to an end, I had a job and friends and my sobriety, but I was sliding downhill and afraid to tell anyone. I was ashamed that after 14 months of sobriety I had begun to white knuckle recovery again. I didn't let anyone know what was happening inside me, and my secret became even more flavored of guilt and shame. Relapse became just a matter of time.

It's hard for me to believe sometimes, but in the third month this body turned 39 years old and my sobriety got as old as it was going to get during that stretch as I reached my 15 month mark. On the outside much of my life looked so much better than it had been but the inside was a mess. That mess began to color the outside, and both sponsor and sponsees began to ask those wonderful questions like are you doing ok? And still I did not open up. I tried to handle what was happening on my own, just like I had tried to deal with Andrew's relapse and all that followed on my own. This was a hugely bad idea.

The fourth month of the year came and I reunited with a face from the past. What a blessing to find the treasure that I had longed for and prayed for. I connected with another soul on a level that I didn't believe was even still possible for me. But even with her I didn't share all the turmoil raging inside me. I had been given a gift from God, and I almost threw it away before it was even mine. Days before achieving my sweet 16 month sobriety birthday I relapsed. Things went downhill fast from there, and in a couple of weeks I was in worse shape than I had been in years. My life had lost all semblance 0f order and control. My friends and family worried and reached out, but I had once again bound myself tightly in the chains of my addiction. I realized that if something didn't change I wouldn't live much longer.

In May I walked back into the rooms, a true mess, and I remember the fear and concern on the faces of my friends as they saw the condition I was in. It took a few tries to even be able to make a week clean and sober. Recovery felt so much harder to attain this time around. But I got honest with myself. I started working the steps of recovery anew and with a vengeance. Once more God, in His infinite grace, granted me a fresh start. On May 17, I picked up my last wet chip of the year and felt grateful for my recovery. I also had the blessing of someone to share my life in recovery with. I thank God that my relapse did not cost me the treasure that I had found. The hurricane I unleashed in my life did not blow out the flame of love that begun the month before.

My recovery grew stronger, and my relationship became more than I believed I would ever find. I felt truly blessed. Over the following months, life continued to have its roller coaster tendencies. My relationship and recovery grew even stronger and more wonderful. I buried several more friends. My job fell apart after my boss threw me under the bus for the second time, and I launched out into business for myself. I felt the pain of being attacked and misused, and I felt the joy of being loved and accepted by new family.

As the year grew near to a close, I celebrated 7 months of sobriety for the second time. I felt the wonder and joy of my first of many Christmases with Leah. I saw my youngest brother for the first time in years and it went so much better than it could have. The foundation for my photography and digital art business solidified, and I have a career doing what I love. All of the sentences in this paragraph represent pieces of my biggest hopes and dreams that I firmly believed by the third week in January were lost to me forever. What a difference a year can make.

My life looks nothing like it did this time 365 days ago, with one exception. For the third year in a row I am ending one year and starting another clean and sober. My life is so much better than I deserve, and I thank God for the miracles and blessings He has given me. So much progress has been made, and I have learned so much and strengthened my program of recovery, as much from my mistakes and failures as from my successes. I have gone through tragedy and relapsed. I have gone through tragedy and remained sober. I have lost love and found it. I have a family of my own, and I can't imagine my life being any better without Leah in it. I nearly killed myself in relapse and I found the rebirth of recovery. I lived in 2010.

It is my prayer and wish for 2011, that I, that my family, that my friends, and that those reading these words, live every day of 2011 and as many days of the years that follow that God allows us to remain breathing on this floating rock in space. I have been truly blessed. I do not regret the mistakes I made, for I learned and grew from them, and I feel so thankful for the things I did well and right. May 2011 have more of the later for all of us and less of the mistakes. After all, progress and not perfection has made this year a damn good one.

God, Relationship, Recovery

It is all too easy for me to get caught up in everything I need to do and put importance on the wrong things. When the bills are late and I'm not sure how I'm going to pay them, it seems silly not to act like that is the most important thing in life and focus on little other than work and financial pursuits. But I've learned through experience that while this is logical, it is not true. Yes, I need to work and meet my financial responsibilities, but spending time with God, making time for relationships, serving and helping others, and continuing the work that has been done to achieve and maintain sobriety is always more important. Without my recovery, without relationship with God and others, without being of service to God and my fellow man, it doesn't matter if the bills are paid on time or if all the Christmas presents are brought, or just about anything else that might pop up that I feel I need to do or have just doesn't matter. Everything is worthless and meaningless without God, relationship and recovery. But when those three are in the proper place in my life then every other area in my life becomes blessed as well.

Step By Step

"The only courage that matters is the kind that gets you from one moment to the next." -- Mignon McLaughlin

I feel there is a profound truth in the above quote. Sometime I worry about if I have enough faith and courage for the long haul in so many areas, such as family relationships and my business. But I don't really need enough courage to face the next years, months or even weeks. All that is needed for today is enough faith and courage to face today and do what God wants me to do at this moment.I am way too out of shape to have the courage to try to walk, much less run, a marathon. Twenty-six miles is overwhelming in my mind at the moment. But God hasn't told me to run or walk a marathon today. Still, I can almost always find the strength and courage for one step. One more step after one more step will eventually take me whatever distance I need to go. The distance that seemed impossible and that I did not have enough courage to try becomes a journey I have made as I look back over the distance and realize that one moment at a time I have progressed far past the goals I had courage to believe I could reach.

Christmas Season Serenity

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...we're rushing everywhere, there are bills that still have to be paid, cookies that need to be made, and children getting on my very last nerve....It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas, the job is stressing me out, I'm not really trying to pout, but please just hear me out, the holidays are making me insane! {To the tune of "It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas"]

Ok, so most of the above doesn't really fit me today, and I'm grateful for that. It could fit me. If I am not careful the demands and stress of what is supposed to be a time of joy and love could make me nuts and test my serenity and sobriety. There is so much to do. Always so much to do and never enough time and money to do it all. It is more critical than usual during this time when everything seems vamped up and enhanced, the money and time issues so much worse, the desires and expectations so much greater, that I remember that I am a human being not a human doing.

The busier I feel, the more important it is that I take a little time to just be. Be still and know that He is God. Be still and clear my mind before I attack the day. Be still and reflect on my blessings. Be still and know nothing but the wind and the cold and the birds singing and the cats cute and cuddled against the weather. Just be. Pray, meditate and do nothing, and do something with someone you love. And do something for someone else without seeking recognition or anything in return. These are my daily ingredients for Christmas season serenity.

Walking On Water

Years ago, a cold swept through East Texas in a way that I have never seen before or since. What is a normal occurrence for my friends in the North became a time of wonder for me. Everything froze. I went duck hunting with my father, and we carried the canoe and gear across the lake.

That it is not the way things were supposed to be. We were supposed to be in the boat rowing, not carrying everything. I didn't trust it. I felt so afraid the ice would break. The morning cold cut through me, my breath fogged the view, and we carried what had been designed to carry us. And the ice did not break.

My father was right. We probably could have driven the truck across. When we made it to the right location, we had to cut holes in the ice with an ax to make a place for the decoys. My father told me to be careful, but now I felt more comfortable. I became careless and took more and more risks with where I was standing in relation to the damage the ax had done to the ice. Dad finally told me to stop. In typical fashion for me, I had to get that one more swing, that slight act of rebellion and control had to be mine. I struck the ice with the ax and heard, felt and finally saw the crack start slowly then the ice opened up between myself and shore before I could react. I made a run for it, but the freezing water soaked me as I plowed through the broken ice trying to get out of the water as quickly as possible. I felt so miserable, and the fire my father built to warm and dry me did little to lift my spirits.

But when the evening came and it was time to return, I did not feel afraid as I carried my end of the canoe back across the ice. I understood that the ice held me before and would do so again. My earlier mishap had been a result of my actions and as long as I did not give cause for the ice to break, it would not.

Sometimes I wonder why I did not learn that lesson then, why I took so long to understand that what I realized in relation to the ice also was true in other areas. I am going to encounter situations and times that are different than anything I have ever known. Like frozen lakes I might have seen pictures or movies or known people who had experienced whatever it is, but the situation is new for me. These times are great and memorable and inspiring and frightening. When I find myself in that new and unique situation feeling frightened and unsure of myself, my first instinct needs to be to look to my Father for guidance.

As I step out with unsure footing I need to remember that I can trust my father, that He's right there with me helping to carry the load and lead the way. He tests the ice for me.

When I stop scaring myself and start trusting the ice I need to be just as quick to listen to my Father's instructions. These are the times when I get cocky and start trying to do things my own way. The resulting cold and misery leaves much to be desired, and I could avoid so much of it, if I would only listen.

But if I don't, and I fall through the ice, my Father is there to help me get to shore, build a fire, make me warm and dry. He is always there and ready to care for me and restore me, if I will let Him.

When the time comes to step back out onto the ice, I can do so with the confidence that I am following my Father and am safe.

As I walk further and further out on the road of recovery, as I learn to be husband and man that God wants me to be, as I tread the waters of financial insecurity of starting my own business, and as I encounter other new experiences I sometimes feel like I'm walking on ice. I often fear the ice is thin and dangerous. It's so easy to fall prey to fear. But I am walking the path my Father tested for me and leads the way along. I can trust. And when I can't, I know that if I just keep walking I will eventually reach my destination, and I will realize that somewhere along the way I stopped being afraid. There comes a point when you realize the ice is as thick as those who said trust said it was, because it hasn't cracked open, because it won't before I get where I'm going. Warm weather and foolishness will both provide access to the chilling water, but the first is far off, and the second is preventable. The next right thing, trust and following God, one step at a time...these are the keys to survival for me when I'm walking on water.