Self Care, Self Love

fullsizeoutput_1b

I believe, so, so much in self-care. In the past, perhaps I didn’t even know what that meant. But I understand now that it means treating myself as I would a beloved friend. It’s more than flossing, though. This is deeper: we have to accept ourselves as we are, do our best from this present moment, and trust that our higher power will see us through. And we, along with HP, are enough. Just as we are, with all our glorious flaws. The hard thing about self-care, taking the time to do the things that restore your soul, mind, and body, is believing that we deserve it. But you do. I do.

We do.

Namaste, Darlings!

Sobriety is hard– But Recovery is Soooo Much Gentler Than Oblivion

Maggie Yancey Spring Garden Flowers

Today, I noticed that I have not slit a hole in any of my contacts since getting sober. My fingernails are the same–simply manicured by ME–but my hands don’t shake, so I don’t poke the contacts accidentally. And, I clean the contacts better, exactly as my eye doctor taught me, every night. 

I floss daily, so I don’t have the nicotine and coffee stains along my gemlike that used to be so embarrassing—I thought it was because I had entered my thirties. It wasn’t that; it was the passing out after all the Malbec, because the day was too much for me to handle. 

Now, the things that used to cause huge emotional overwhelm can be handled. I may still feel anxious about them, but I have the courage and confidence to push forward. Five hours with apple support, and my computer is like new. In the past, that would have brought on a meltdown, tears, frustration, fears of the end of the world as I know it, and panic followed by days in bed.

But this time, my computer crashed. I let it go when I couldn’t fix it myself, turned it off, and went to sleep, knowing that I couldn’t do anything about it when it happened, because what I had thought would be a simple operating system update had turned into a total computer failure. It had to be erased, and rebooted from the cloud.

But thank God for the cloud, and the serenity to know that whatever came with the computer, I could handle it. And handle it I did—with the help of three brilliant and affirming women in tech support, and a lot of prayer. And okay, some coffee and nicotine.

I’m not perfect. But I’m making progress. And that’s the whole point: I can see clearly through the eyes of recovery, and not just because I’m no longer slicing my contacts in half with my nails and dropping them in the toilet by accident. Recovery allows me to access the peaceful, serene space within that says: this is okay. God’s got this. 

I breathe through it, ask for help, and tech support and my higher power save the day. Recovery makes that possible. Doing the work of recovery makes that possible.

And the flossed, bright white smile at the perfectly working computer, too, was brought by the miracles of recovery.

Namaste, Darlings!