Today I am grateful that I gave birth to a daughter in the year that she was born 53 years ago; I seem ancient.

I am sad because my sister died, and that’s how she wanted it because she refused to get any help; I feel so powerless because I was and am.

I feel mad because I have COVID and was more cautious than most, yet I feel sorry for myself.

My nerves are like fire, and I know what to do is rest. When my oldest sister died, I drank myself to oblivion while wailing in the bar. I am grateful to utilize my tools today and write how I feel instead of drinking and drugging, thinking I will change my feelings.

No, feelings are not facts; they are emotions I can feel because of recovery.

I am grateful for a higher power that I can lean on. I have an additional layer since I added a call to prayer to my phone as a reminder to stop, breathe, and be intentional when asking for help. My spirituality is a collective of sources that comfort me, and I am so grateful for my intentions.

My spouse has COVID, too; we are alive, not dead. So many people didn’t make it, so thank you, my giant spirits, that continue to help me along the way. I could go on and on because I have so much to say, but I will stop here and know this shall pass along the way.

It’s me; restless, irritable, and discontinued. I have no reason to complain about my life because I am stable, secure, and serene. Yet, it seems I am supposed to be doing anything besides what I do.

Last month my eldest sister had a trauma due to a car crash on the I-70 from a heart attack; she passed out, and per a witness, her car rolled 3-4 times. I was unprepared for what responsibilities I would inherit since she lived alone with no living offspring. My life has taken on a new role, and I didn’t realize some carryover trauma I hold from an estranged relationship far removed from this sister.

I am involved in multiple twelve-step programs; the one that brings the most comfort at this time is the ACA (Adult Children of Alcoholics). So many buried memories are surfacing. I have developed an awareness of a new higher power, which has been challenging too. I am intentionally asking this power to help me let go and allow this power to work in my life.

One thing I am realizing is that I have no control over others. Although I am powerless over certain aspects of my life, I am not helpless. I also realize that I have become more political than I want, and in some sense, it is hard to move past that. I am powerless over the government, yet I want prodigious results on my time, and it’s not happening.

I ask myself, “Lynda, what can you do today to stay serene?” Mostly it’s moving out of the way, allowing myself to get still and listen to nothing. By doing so, I find solace in the stillness. The complication is that I don’t live alone, and someone is constantly asking, needing, demanding, and guilt-tripping if they don’t get attention from me.

With all the adversity, I want to run, but the miracle is I haven’t. I am dealing with my emotions. Working on the ”Loving Parent Guidebook.” I write and journal daily. My yoga mat has become my friend. I have taken up lifting hand weights which are helpful too. I am mindful of the amount of water I drink and the amount I lack. I am a daily avid long-distance walker. I give back by helping other sufferers by working with them on the Twelve Steps of recovery. After making my bed, I pray and meditate throughout the day. When I struggle to sleep, I repeat the Serenity Prayer until I can sleep.

I know that this discomfort will pass. Other than change, nothing in life is guaranteed, not even my sobriety. I have to be intentional with self-care. I recently paid an astrologer to read my sign, and although it was expensive, I needed a little pick-me-up, and I received precisely that.

Trudging the road to happy destiny doesn’t mean the terrain is smooth. Yet when I accomplish one hurdle, it leaves a mark that the next one I can achieve too. So, with my higher power’s help, an attitude of gratitude, and the tenacity to survive and strive, I will be OK. Everything will be OK because of grace, and what will be will be no matter what it will be.

I don’t know about anyone else, but I must keep it simple regarding recovery. In other words, I have to do the next right thing. The way to do that is I first have to put down the drugs and alcohol. Not until then can I live in actual reality. If I want to take a real trip, I need to get honest with myself and not use mood-altering substances to numb out.

I celebrated 20 years of clean time from drugs and alcohol on October 3. I regret to inform anyone that had hoped for a faster recovery that it had been just recently that I started to work on another program that allows me to look at my childhood. Oh, my goodness. To look at reality is painful. Today, I recognize how I disassociate from looking at myself or my reasons for avoiding intimacy with myself, my higher power, and others.

My drug of choice has been fear. To live normally, I must walk through fear and crazy. I recognize that today. So what do I do to disassociate myself? I will work at excessive cleaning, reading, exercising, eating or nibbling, and fantasizing about romance. I never realized how I have black-and-white thinking. There is a grey area that I can rest somewhere in between. This journey of traveling in the space of reality can be lonely at times.

If I want more than recovery, meaning I want to strive not only to survive, I have to be willing to go into spaces that can and will be painful. I recognize that this, too, will pass. Once I obtain a hurdle, I can use that as a buffer to know that I can take another step towards what surfaces. The longer I stay the course, the more times I will remember something long buried.

I keep it simple. If it’s too painful, I can always retreat and come back again. The solution is to talk about what I am feeling with others who are also dealing with similar recovery; I will usually hear what I need to hear. I am worthy of healing no matter how long it takes. I get to choose why, what, when, and how I will proceed. One day at a time and sometimes a moment. Recovery will always materialize if I work for it and accept that I am enough no matter what; that’s why I want to keep it simple.

Till the season of recovery

Set dazzling above one’s head

We keep trudging no matter what

Because we are worth the steps

A journey of roads yet to be pathed

We still walk forward knowing that something along the way

Is there to catch our mishaps

We halt, we cry, and we disappear in the silence of the unknown

Not knowing if it is safe to surface

Knowing to be scorned

Keep stepping anyway

Through the hurt, the pain, and the tears of too many

Cries of help, we feel alone but

Know that somewhere someone is there

Think not about the damage but

On the worth that is yet to come

Walk on for our abandoned little children

Create the life you only once

Believed was one to live

Holdfast to the what ifs

But don’t let them be the final answer, just one

More days of trudging, will this be it?

Thank you for the memories

Thank you for this path

A journey that is one season that can never last

So long for now until the time comes again

Please know that memories will surpass all understanding

Of the what ifs

Alcohol and drugs are cunning and baffling, but self-will is a hell of a drug.

Celebration is around the corner for me, and on October 3rd,  I will celebrate 20 years of abstinence from all mood-altering substances. Yet that self-will will rear its ugly head, but at least some manifestations are justifiably necessary for my health, such as walking.

I have plans to speak at four different groups this month to celebrate. It used to be a time that I would party for a month to celebrate a belly birthday, so naturally, I sighed when I thought your month was booked with service, to share your experience, strength, and hope with others.

I thought back to the day I entered the recovery rooms, and I was not very happy about that. It was eighteen days before the 3^rd, and I relapsed on marijuana. I never thought I could quit, but here I am, trudging to happy destiny, and not often do I think about using drugs.

I realized that I had many desires to display before I got to where I am today. I went from listening to loud music to no music to seldomly listening to music, from knitting to walking to marathons back to walking, with yoga and water aerobics on the side. I have lusted after those things like men, shoes, and earrings. I took a spell to educate myself with higher learning to understand I can keep learning something every day while in recovery. I’ve been mad and took it to another level of rage when I realized that I still need some more profound work. I’ve moved from one twelve-step program to another, each time peeling back the onion to know it’s another level of new trauma.

My perspective has changed. I have let go of some of my old ideas. I have gone from picking up trash to giving back to the community to applying the steps and traditions to my life.

Today I have the integrity and morals to do the next right thing. I am not perfect, but it’s progress. I started a business during this recovery process. I even changed my higher power; it’s no longer that self-serving magical Jennie when I need something; it’s a daily relationship, checking in, asking for guidance, and trying to accept the outcome, no matter the results.  

I love my life today and cannot wait to see what is in store for tomorrow since it’s a program one day at a time. The only constant in my life right now is that I don’t drink, and I don’t drug, and things change; it has changed me, and I am genuinely grateful because self-will can run riot, but the end is what will be, and it’s emotional sobriety that I seek.

Rebellion is funny since if one is rebelling, it’s hard to see the forest for the trees.

Recovery has helped me see how defiant I have lived; at times, I still do. My blinders automatically adjust when I am in denial and fear. I hope not to claim the mendaciousness of others but to ask, “What if what was said is true?” And then, with some contemplation, I get to implement a change or discard what I have heard. I know when the student is ready and the teacher will appear.

The rebellion concept has brought about great insight about me; to rebel is to cause myself more significant harm because I will do things to prove my allegiance that I am correct while others must be wrong. Fortunately, the results have been nil, and until I am willing to accept that I can be teachable, some of the same destructive behaviors repeat themselves enough for me to know that change is needed.

I recall times when something said would cause me to prove them wrong by forging forward with what I didn’t know at the time was dangerous behavior. For instance, something as simple as laws meant for others but not for me. Enough hard-knocks, I can now see that if I will only accept that it’s not personal, but it’s the law.

Another way I would be defiant is to ignore whenever anyone tells me what to do. I cannot tolerate that at all, and what I know today is it is a carried-over behavior from my childhood of being told what to do by older siblings, my parents, teachers, ministers, friends, spouses, employers, and so on.

Today, I am willing to consider releasing some control in my life; it helps me have real choices and not some illusion of control and orderliness.

Enveloping change into my life has freed me to let go and allow this universal love to comfort my woundedness. My life today is about progress, not perfection, and principle over personality has been life-saving because I prefer to live and allow others to live their lives.

I am grateful that rebellion is an option, and I have no reason to go on a tyrant and ruin my life because something said might flair up a trigger of the past. I take time to breathe and take to my yoga mat, enjoy the moment, and take in a gratitude list of how my life has changed for the better when I don’t go against the grain but lean into what is.

Thank you, sweet spirits that I call my guardian angels who continue to watch over me. I know each one by name, and it’s a beautiful thing. I will continue to live in the present and allow the future to unfold as it will. Rebellion, take a back seat because my front seat has many reasons to smile and be grateful to surrender my fears and self-hate.

Life is rarely easy, yet life is inevitable, and growth is intentional.

Before coming into recovery, my attention was taking other people’s inventory so I could fix them, manage them, and control them because coming into recovery was too scary. Yet here I am. I didn’t like anyone, didn’t want to hear anything anyone had to say, and thought everyone in recovery was crazy.

The acceptance of my disease of isms has not been easy. It’s been a pendulum, swinging back and forth, blaming others, then turning the blame back on me, with the shame of how could I have stayed in the toxicity for so long.

Nevertheless, my controlling personality and the ability to go to extremes to avoid looking at myself became too painful that I had to turn the mirror around and look at myself. Wham, it can be painful to grow up in public, but so worth the look.

So I keep coming back to the rooms, one day at a time, one moment at a time, and have been willing to acknowledge what I see about myself and what I am hearing in recovery spaces. I lean into looking for the similarities instead of the differences, and what a difference that makes for me to keep the focus on what I need to change that no longer yields me peace of mind.

Today, I try and live with integrity, love generously, care deeply, speak kindly, and leave the rest to a god of my understanding, a loving god that wants the best for me. The peace I receive is astronomical as opposed to living in my addictions, and I will continue to work for my recovery. I haven’t had a drink or recreational drug since October 3, 2002, and for that, I am grateful.

In my recovery, my mind, body, and spirit align to receive what it hears; it’s soothing like a soak in a warm lavender lathering bath. Yet, messages can sometimes seem distorted because I am not spiritually capable of receiving what I hear; it’s called the denial trait. At those moments, my insides bubble to the surface like a percolator, and I respond with rage. It happens quickly without taking the time to breathe and allow the words to roll off like a waterfall.  

It’s usually in hindsight when I accept that I am in recovery. I tell myself, “Take a moment to breathe and digest what you feel, little Lynda? You don’t have to voice yourself with a tone of anger, where your stomach tells you that you owe someone amends. Continue to differentiate if and when amends are needed, not just apologize, but be willing to change the behavior. Those are old patterns of not wanting to upset the ebb and flow of voicing your opinion and making someone upset or feeling they will not like you. Be authentic, and that is a cause to be vulnerable, transparent, with integrity, and some Kindness. Grace. and Love.”

Growing up in public is painful. Unfortunately, I didn’t have support as a young adolescent to encourage me to share my emotions and feelings; it was to do as told and not seen was the attitude in the household I lived. So today, it’s hard to be authentic without defaulting to old behaviors before I realize that I have a voice and I can state what I’m feeling without fear of being ridiculed. And if I do receive negative feedback, it’s my responsibility to decipher the truth; I do so by working with others and a mentor. My experience has been the lessons will repeat themselves until they align so I can hear.

It’s important to ask myself, “What if what is said is true?” Answering this question takes contemplation, being honest with myself, open-minded, and willing to accept what I have denied for so long; the truth, my truth. If there is no validity to what is said, I can discard the information. Otherwise, I can gently and kindly fold the newfound knowledge into my recovery.

One day at a time, one step at a time, recovery is all about welcoming the future of my potential with mindfulness. Namaste.

As a person who masters control, hears that emotional freedom comes when a gradual and gentle release of power is possible, she cries.

Long-lived a way of living that sense there were safety and predictability when the reins are held tight, and oh so effortless they say to let go. The thought of pulling tighter dominates the frontal lobe of thinking.

Take a moment to breathe and release the limitless possibilities this transformation can have on your life. Don’t allow the false evidence of appearing real that you will drown in fear to rupture the profound knowledge that will allow the remaining time here to be yours for your enjoyment. So what if your life is heading downward will at a high rate of speed? Don’t you care about that emotional freedom that is being free offers?

The self-doubt was self-created and can be questioned only by you; the holder of all things is possible when a sincere effort attempts to change. Your trust in those things, places, people, past, and future did disappoint, but confidence can resurface if only a mustard seed of faith to believe it’s possible.

Seek a new way of asking for help in that what lingers in the soul; those ancestors and predecessors. How do you know this time won’t be different and that freedom will transform you into an astonishing new being. Tap into what is unknown but known possibilities of what once was, those ancestors.

Emotional freedom is a thing worth prospecting. Sit. Write. Allow those fears to gather on the paper of knowledge that requests truth to be wisdom.

My awareness of wounds that still lingers reared their ugly heads triggered by the senseless murders in Buffalo, NY, on May 14, 2022. I know this because I will move into spaces of questioning why certain people in my life haven’t reached out and acknowledged me. I realize this type of thinking is asinine and a way to deflect from what I am feeling and what my motives are. The pain of others resides in me, and most times, I don’t realize it’s me that I have to work on healing. It doesn’t justify or ignore the tragic murders, but it does help me see that I have some more work to do with me.

My immediate response to the tragedy was homicidal tendencies, and I know that way of thinking is not healthy, nor is it sane. In other words, I take old wounds and pile higher with current traumas created in the world and pile trauma upon trauma, and I cannot heal because of the inability to separate the two from one another.

My childhood mirrors that of one that needed more than I received. In hindsight, I realize this information because of my willingness to recover, so I can live without carrying baggage from the past and allowing it to comingle with other trauma. It’s so easy for me to feel sorry for myself and feel isolated and take things personally because of abandonment issues.

At my age, I am still struggling, and it is hard, yet I write to get the thoughts out of my mind onto paper because I am a visual person. It is hard for me to pretend it’s not happening when I can see what is happening. Once I accept what I see, the hardest part is making changes. It’s easier to ignore and move on and repeat the behavior that I so badly want to transform.

I am grateful for the awareness. I continue to ask a power greater than myself to help me, and that power is my ancestors. Although I sometimes want to blame them for my woes because, after all, they were the ones that perhaps taught my parents what they knew. I know if I compare them alongside with what I don’t know, I can accept that my ancestors want nothing but the best for me. Their chastising me was an acknowledgment,  a request per se, to do better, and although I didn’t realize it at the time, it was a concern to help me survive this cruel world.

Today, I accept and appreciate precisely that. My abandonment issues are mine to deal with the best that I can, and at any time,  ask whether I can survive the acid test and not drink and do drugs when the going gets tough. I am grateful for the awareness that I am not alone but with myself and want to survive.