The Best I Ever Was

I'm healthier, stronger, more mentally and emotionally stable.  I'm sober - from many things.  I'm getting leaner (though I still have my belly), and I have deeper relations than I've ever had.  I truly am the best I ever was.

AND - I'm not done yet.

I keep pushing through the storms that come.  I rest when it's time to rest.  And I'm learning there is a balance between the two.  I am growing. 

I'm making amends (part of my recovery).  Going down my ledger book and trying to systematically and with concern and care for those around me, make right some of the wrongs I've done.  I'm not going to every person I owe an apology to and bending down on one knee and groveling, but I am humbly approaching the people that God has placed in my focus and seeking whatever it is supposed to be.  I don’t control this.  I’m along for the ride!

What I am learning more than anything else is willingness.  Willingness to be present - unencumbered by substances, by doubt, by false beliefs about myself that have so many times taken me down bitter paths. Willingness to grow and willingness to push beyond my own reasoning and into a bigger Hope.

Hope - now there’s a word.  Hope was something that I often tossed about in this blog, in conversation, in other writings.  But have I ever known what hope was until now?  I’ve always believed in life past this mucky place, and now I see that in the everyday, in the trials and tribulations that  there can be serenity.  A knowing that it isn’t all about me.  A hope in tomorrow, found in each waking moment of today.

And Faith. 

“Confidence in what we hope for and assurance in what we do not see.” Hebrews 11:1

I have faith that tomorrow morning if I am allowed to wake, I will put on my work clothes, put myself to the tasks ahead of me, roll with the punches that come (those 'curveballs' in our day), and continue to look up and go ‘thank you God for this day’.  I hope that everything I do during the day is a prayer for the life I have been given. Taken out of a fucked up mess and put on a pretty solid rock.

But here’s the true litmus test… 

Listen to my words. But they don’t mean much. They only mean a little.

See my actions. But they can be fickle and trite; sometimes grandiose and other times just sorrowful. 

Really look at my patterns, my behaviors, my habits.

Because you can hear my words, you can see my actions, but I will be known by my patterns and behaviors.

So, looking back at eight months, and yes it’s been eight months since I found this new life; what do you see, what do you hear, and what do you know about me?

I encourage you to answer that question.  Then ask it of yourself.  “What do other’s truly see in me?”

And I’m still waiting…

Zadkiel