07.16.26
There has been so much going on that some days I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Truthfully, there have been a lot of days where I did both. This season has stretched me in ways I wasn’t expecting. Some of the most beautiful things have happened right alongside some of the hardest and most heartbreaking. I’ve had to let go of old habits, old expectations, and even parts of a life I’ve been incredibly proud to build in recovery. It’s strange grieving something that was good for you, but I think that’s part of growing. We outgrow things, even the things that helped save us.
I’ve spent more time than I’d like to admit trying to figure everything out. Wondering why certain doors were closing. Wondering what was next. Trying to make sense of changes that felt too big and happened too fast. I wanted certainty, but life wasn’t offering any. It was just asking me to keep walking.
This morning I sat down with my coffee to write my gratitude list, and somewhere between the first few lines, I felt my perspective change. I wrote about my sobriety and the God of my own understanding because I truly wouldn’t have this life without either. I wrote about laughter over dinner, time with people I love, unexpected good news after weeks of uncertainty, conversations that reminded me I’m not alone, and waking up to another brand new day. It wasn’t a list of extraordinary things. It was just a lot of moments that reminded me that my life is really good, even when it’s really hard.
I’m realizing that two strong emotions can exist at the same time. I can be grieving and deeply grateful. I can be excited about what’s ahead while mourning what’s behind me. I can miss the familiar and still know it’s time to move forward.
The greatest gift recovery has given me is the ability to sit in the uncomfortable without immediately trying to escape it. Not so long ago, I would’ve done anything to avoid feeling this much. Today I know that feelings pass. Uncertainty passes. I don’t have to have every answer, I just have to stay sober and keep taking the next right step.
I’d take a hundred sober hard days over one day of the chaos, fear, and loneliness I used to call living. Every single time.
My heart is really full today. Not because everything is perfect, but because even in the middle of change, I can see how much I’ve been given. I’m still learning how to let go with a little more grace, trust a little more, and loosen my grip on the need to know what’s next. Some seasons are for building. Some are for becoming. I have a feeling this one is both.
Leave a Reply