journaling, Recovery

I Choose Peace

Image by Patou Ricard from Pixabay

I’ve been hemming and hawing for weeks (or months), the pendulum swaying back and forth; from feeling as though it’s my responsibility (as a human being) to talk (or keep talking) about current events—to the polar opposite—thinking that it’s the last thing I should even consider.

It’s been harder to write, ever since the virus began circulating and destructive human behaviors began rearing their ugly head. There’s been sickness, stock piling and greed, fear, anger, and chaos… sliding into racism, violence, protests, riots and anarchy. That’s not to say that most of this wasn’t around before the pandemic, it was just hidden a little better. Regardless, how do you go about ignoring all of that—acting as if it’s business as usual—without feeling… well… peculiar?

I’ve considered sharing some new ideas about my New Lifestyle, New Me project recently, but I’ve talked myself out of it because my personal life—and things like my lifestyle change—seem so insignificant, or trivial. So then I wonder if I should just talk about what I feel. And then I realize that I’m not sure what it is I feel, or why I even feel it! But… I think it finally hit me the other day.

I was talking to a friend about recovery meetings. She was asking me questions because she was curious about what goes on inside the rooms. I was explaining to her how all of the meetings are different. Sometimes there’s a speaker, and the rest of the room sits quietly and listens. In book study meetings, we read from certain chapters (of whichever recovery book we’re studying), and then we talk a bit about our thoughts on what we read.

And then there are the “other” meetings—the round robin meetings—where they go around the room, and each person gets about three minutes to share. I explained to her that there is no cross talk (no conversations are allowed to take place back and forth), and that everyone just listens. Once the time is up, the floor moves to the next person.

And then I told her about the uncomfortable moments I’ve had at those meetings, when I’ve watched someone break down. Sad. Struggling. Scared. In pain. Depressed. Sobbing. And then the timer dings. And the next person starts talking, almost as if nothing had happened. The room is tense and uncomfortable for a few minutes, and someone might offer the poor soul a tissue, but all in all, we just keep going—moving right along—as if it’s business as usual. It’s so peculiar!

I think one of the reasons this happens, is that it’s a room full of alcoholics. Ha! All joking aside, that is actually a true statement. Everyone in the room has the same issue. The same sickness. No one is better than the other, and no one is worse. No one goes into those rooms to fix someone else, nor are they even capable of doing that. They go there to fix “themselves.”

Once I got home, after our conversation, I realized how similar it was to how I’m feeling right now. It’s like the world around me has the floor, and it is breaking down. Sad. Struggling. Scared. In pain. Depressed. Sobbing. And here I am, listening… waiting for the timer to ding. My inclination is to reach out and grab the world, and try to fix it. But maybe—just like in the rooms—I can’t do that.

I can only fix myself. And it’s uncomfortable.


That pretty much sums it up. Life is uncomfortable right now. I think the image from pixabay works perfect. Moving forward in recovery and maintaining sobriety requires discernment. Each person is responsible for what they allow into their mind. And today, I choose peace.

Much love to you all!
—Janet

Standard
Humor, Poetry

The 70’s to Today

A Life in Rap


Gallivanting, and

Bar hopping.

Living it up, and 

Hotel bopping.

Race with the Joneses,

Some name dropping.

A 401K, and

Wife swapping?

Dieting fads, and

Pill popping.

Sucking it up, with

Sugar free topping.

Trade bra for a mask, 

Boobs flopping.

Zoom meditation, and

Online shopping.


Word Count: 46

Weekend Writing Prompt: Gallivant

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

A little Weekend Humor—
Peace & Love!

Standard

Vision without action is a daydream. Action without vision is a nightmare.

Japanese proverb

My new laptop is working great, but the screen is VERY small. My little old eyes (that need cheater glasses) were not too thrilled with the size. So… I decided to get creative, and I’m using an old television as a monitor, and it is REALLY big. Boy do I have vision NOW. Ha! I’m exaggerating, I must confess, but it’s larger than any of my laptops have ever been. I was really able to zoom in and see some of the tiny details in my flower tonight.

I guess that’s what having a vision is all about; being able to see, or at least imagine, what it is that you’re working on, or going after. I think the first half of my life was a whole lot of action without vision. Like the hamster on the wheel, or a dog chasing its tail… just thoughtless, repetitive motion. And boy what a nightmare it became!

Sobriety was a gift (thank you God!). It really opened up my eyes and gave me clarity. My vision about the future can be clouded sometimes, and I definitely daydream, but I can see my feet, and the path that they are on, VERY clearly. And all I can say is… Oh, what a beautiful road it is!


The only thing worse than being blind is having sight but no vision.

helen keller
Art

Having a Vision

Image
Haiku, images

Shelter in Place

Storm intermission,

Seductress teases through glass,

Fragile barricade.


Greetings everyone! My new PC is finally here, and I am back in action with Photoshop—and a few other new and exciting programs to get creative with. I’m feeling things out tonight, and I thought this somewhat serene image would go well with Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge: Break & Glass.

There’s a little double meaning in there, because I (like many of us) am torn at times; feeling like “things are getting better,” and then “things are getting worse.” It’s hard to decide, so I just take it day by day. And today was good!

That’s about all for now. I hope you’re all surviving, staying healthy, happy, and safe. God Bless!

—Janet

Standard