1 7 w e e k s + 3 d a y s

It’s only 8 am, so I am not entirely sure how I feel today. I do know that after putting a voice to how I feel on social media, and hearing the responses of humans, I feel not only a whole lot less alone, a whole lot less crazy, but something in me simply feels softer.

I feel can feel what's under my rage + anger a little better; I can feel the fear thats bubbling, the 1000 forms of fear that lay at the base of my subconscious, the faces of fear that attempt to rule my existence, hijack my thoughts, and run my light into darkness.

When I get really honest about self, I am truthfully surprised at the amount of fear that resides in my core.

It’s the fear that tells me that God kills what I love; it’s the fear that tells me that I am not equipped for the level of love I receive from the man I married; it’s the fear that tells me I am not good enough, I will fuck it all up, and that this light is not the life for me. It’s a fear that tells me over, and over, and over again that my life is a mistake, that my purpose is meaningless, and that I will be a nobody for all of the days that I walk this earth.

I suspect that it’s the vast amount of change that has occurred over these past few months that has the ego part of self in pure panic.

I’m in a new city, and a new country - with a totally different climate. I am living with the man who I love, but we had a long distance relationship prior to the big move here - this is a wildly hard adjustment for me. I believe that pregnancy has thrown me for a loop - it’s new, frightening, and totally uncharted territory. All that, and I must reminder also that I am still only a little more than 2 years sober - I am still a toddler, I have no idea how to do this sober life and all it entails.

As fear bubbles on the deepest levels, I feel myself slip into a state of anger, rage, righteousness. I become sharp + spicy. I do not laugh, I can not find the magic. I can not stand who I become, and it seems that no matter how much self-awareness I have, I can not stop the spiral. It’s insane. I am insane. All I want to do when I feel this way is run for the hills.

My deepest programing tells me to ‘fuck everything and run’, that is my response to fear. I am learning to stay, I am learning to fall to my knees in prayer as I - sometimes gracefully and sometimes reluctantly - hand my will over to my higher power.  God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.

Everyone is always saying “it’s going to be ok”, but the truth for me is that I do not know that it will be ok, I really don’t. I have a baseline mistrust in the very fabric that this universe is made of, and I am working daily at establishing a connection with this universe, I am diligent in my pursuit to increase my conscious contact with God.

It’s a totally painful crossroads for me - I know that my will fails every single time. My will run riot, leaves me scheming and planning, it’s impodles in my face, it severs my connection to source, and it leaves me hopeless and disappointment. My will leaves me in a state of fear, followed by a brilliant parade of character defects like pride, anger, indignant attitudes, that I can not live by. My inner brain becomes an existence of hell.

So what choice do I have?

Surrender.

That’s it.

God doesn't play fair. Me playing God clearly does not work. So I just have to force myself to my knees as many times through the day as it takes until I find myself where my heart resides today - a little softer, a little more willing, a little less rigid.

These were the very teachings the cosmos had for me in early sobriety when the forest fire of my life lit ablaze and I had never experienced such grief in all my life. I didn't know in those days if it would be ok, I didn't know if I would survive, I wasn't sure if the pain would kill me, or if I would end it myself. I just didn't know. I didn't know how I would get through, I didn't know how I would stay sober, and I certainly didn't know how I would ever heal, laugh, or feel joy again.

So I followed the steps lined out before me.

I got down on my knees daily. I prayed. I said that damn serenity prayer 72 000 times/day. I stayed diligent and close to my sobriety work. I took the next indicated step and remained disciplined as to not future trip, or wander down paths of nostalgia. I stayed here in today. I stayed with the pain, I didn't scratch the itch. I was willing for grief to take me, to teach me, to kill me - I was wholeheartedly open to life’s lessons. I had no reservation of any kind. I knew it was do or die for me.

It took a long time before joy came to my life. It was many-a-day of grief stricken pain, pain with such enormity that I failed to see a way out. I didn't necessarily believe in the steps I was taking, I didn't believe that my higher power was a good one, but I knew that my will ended me up in the mess I was in. I knew I had to do it different.

Amazingly enough, the clouds did part. I gained a faith that was unlike anything I had ever known in my life. I found peace, and joy, and contentment.

I stayed sober.

And now here I am - different situation, same fucking fears! How wild is that? I think last time I had 2% faith, but life proved to me that this work works, life has shown me the way. Today I think I have about 17% faith (all 17% of it is being tested viciously right now) and so although this is wildly painful and uncomfortable, I know the path to navigate this.

It’s not about negating the pain.

It’s not about making rainbows when life is just stormy, the rainbows will come in due time, but 1st I must ride the storm, I have to sail the turbulent seas; for me that looks like handing the helm over to my higher power and opening my hands and ears to receive instruction from the captain. This is not my ship, I am not the captain, and I have no idea where we are going- but when I can surrender the wheel, when I can become teachable and willing, we sail to marvelous places.

I guess this is what faith means. I guess it means that when encapsulated in stormy seas, when one cannot see a break in the clouds or land in site that we do what we have been told: we surrender. I guess the works part in the “faith without works is dead” is just that - remaining open especially when the ship appears that it is about to capsize. I guess the down and dirty work is all about staying present to the storm, here in the today, and ever-connected to … source.

I don’t know.

Who knows!

The ship may well go down, but as a self-proclaimed poor sea woman I will remain next to the helm, listening to the captain for the next best step.

It’s the only chance I have.


only love - k