All posts tagged: Spiritual journey

Contentment

“Now and then it’s good to pause in our pursuit of happiness and just be happy.” Guillaume Apollinaire I’m on the letter “C” today and this quote is perfect. I’m starting with a word that I’m not necessarily a fan of, but I won’t make a habit of that. Contradiction: a combination of statements, ideas, or features of a situation that are opposed to one another. Sometimes a professor will say something that totally contradicts what another professor said. That’s confusing, and sometimes annoying, but that’s not why I brought it up.

The Journey Continues

My life today looks nothing like it did a year ago. There’s definitely still a lot of construction in progress, but compared to my life was when I was drinking—it’s like heaven. I am happy, joyous and free! I’ve been doing some thinking though. How do I propel myself into the next phase of my life? I want to experience growth. I’ll be fifty-five soon. My life has slowed down, and my priorities are now in order (for the most part). Things are definitely different, but I need to expand. I’m feeling stagnant. So… I decided to take on a challenge. The journey continues! For my fifty-fifth year I want to do 55 things I’ve NEVER done before, including random acts of kindness. That’s a little over one per week. I’m super excited. This will be a year to celebrate (sober!), and see if I can give something back.

A Child of God

Asking God to help me see my life from His perspective is what truly helped me. I went back forty years, to when I was lost in that awkward limbo between childhood and adulthood, and serious issues consumed my thoughts. I was convinced that no one would EVER understand what was going on in my head. I was the odd man out, the outsider, and a teenage misfit. I just didn’t fit in anywhere, and it was too risky to try. I let fear win. How I saw things now was that a curious young girl stood before me—full of intriguing thoughts and questions about life—and I silenced her. I introduced her to alcohol to help ease her angst, and we hit the fast-forward button. We raced into the adult world- totally unprepared. What I came to realize was that, although my outward appearance had changed, that child had lived on. She carried-on in protest like a rebel without a cause—always reminding me that I was not like everyone else, and that I’d never measure up in …

The Great Escape

It may seem odd that I always look on the bright side of things, but that’s how I roll. I’m an optimist ninety-eight percent of the time. I don’t enjoy writing the other two percent of the time, when I’m feeling down and out. I don’t even like thinking about the times when I wanted to give up. The nights when I wondered why I was still breathing. It seemed like my life was meaningless, and I had nothing left to offer. That’s how I felt when I had to move. I had lost my job that paid my rent, and I had no other options. I don’t think I need to explain why I lost my job; it’s pretty self-explanatory. I hated the idea of moving. I had spent a year and a half decorating my place with second hand treasures, and I was SO proud. I LOVED my things! I never spent enough money on things to merit paying for storage though, so I knew I’d have to let so much of it …

Just a Little Tidbit

I wasn’t completely satisfied with my previous post when I hit “Publish” yesterday. It didn’t seem complete. I wasn’t feeling it. That’s another defect of mine that I discovered in my months of reflection; not listening to my gut. Needless to say, much of my life was spent doing damage control. Anyway, I realized today that I need to fast-forward through so MUCH of my journey. Writing is extremely healing, especially in recovery, and I would recommend it to anyone. But in all honesty, reviewing my life “on paper” has given me a pit in my stomach and a tremendous headache. It’s like I want to stand up, violently shake the woman who wrote it, and shout… “GET OVER YOURSELF!” So that’s where I’m being led today. I’m going to go with my gut and tell you that today my life has meaning. Somewhere along the road of recovery I learned that the world does NOT revolve around me, and I am forever grateful for that. While so much of my progress was made while writing my story, …

Sweet Surrender

I’m always doing things backwards. Act first, think later. Of course my first thought after doing something is always “Now WHY did I do THAT?” And then there’s the other side of me that refuses to take a micro-step until I know (and understand) everything there is to know about something. And I mean EVERYTHING. That might explain my lack of interest in all things spiritual for the better part of my life. If anyone asked me what I believed in, the most accurate answer I could give would be “nothing”. The only thing that I knew to exist was my own little reality, and it wasn’t pretty. Still I prayed at times, mostly when the chips were down—and I mean REALLY down. Even then, I wasn’t sure “to whom” I was actually praying. Several years ago, in the throes of a downward spiral, I fought to hold myself and my business together—by a thread. The harder I held onto that thread the more everything seemed to unravel. My mental state was deteriorating, I was …

Rewriting Your Story

I love road trips. When I hit the open road I feel a sense of freedom that I just can’t experience anywhere else. It’s so exciting to map out the route, book the lodging, and search ahead for landmarks to see and places to eat. In other words, my travels are pretty well thought out before take-off. It’s not quite as easy to plan a spiritual journey. Mine started off with a wholehearted search for God, and months of reflection. I was determined to understand how (or why) I fell in love with alcohol. In the awkward years of adolescence, my childhood innocence vanished and was replaced with the dreadful practice of measuring my “worth” by my appearance and popularity. Quite frankly, I wished I would disappear. It seemed to work, actually. Many grammar schools had melded into the seventh grade, and somewhere in that transition, I became invisible. I did NOT fit in. It’s almost surreal. Four decades (and a lot of haze) later, I still remember those days clearly, and can visualize myself observing the others. …