Written almost two years ago, when I was sober for 11 months. I’ve been thinking about this lately, these lessons. Sometimes we forget things we were so proud to learn, but that’s a mistake.
Some people come into sobriety wanting to become different people, better people, people who do the right thing and apologize when they make mistakes. Some people don’t, and nothing I do or say (or yell or scream) will change the second type of person into the first.
There are people who will never apologize, never pay back the money they owe, never gain the capacity for honesty, and never change — and I have no control over that. Letting go is the only option.
There will never be a point where I will stop stumbling, miss-stepping, and occasionally losing my way — but as long as I do the best I can, and admit my shortcomings, and remain willing to do better next time (and learn from my mistakes), I’ll be okay.
The meaning of life is found by living in the questions rather than demanding answers. And sometimes, we find the answers by being okay living with the questions.
Unconditional love isn’t a myth. The myth is that we find it in fairytale romances. It’s all around us, it always has been, and it is only our own fear and insecurity that prevent us from getting in touch with it.
It’s not selfish to expect people to treat me with kindness, compassion, and respect — and every single ex-boyfriend I had who called me a needy bitch for wanting those things can kiss my ass.
Actions can and should be taken at face value; what people do is infinitely more important than what they say.
Sometimes it really is as easy as walking away, letting go, and refusing to rent out space in my mind to low-class people.
It isn’t that I deserve better when bad things happen (though I do); these things are almost always a result of bad choices I made, and the consequences will make me think twice next time.
Grace is sometimes elusive, often ethereal, occasionally mind-blowing, but definitely real.
I’m worth more than any price anyone’s ever put on me.
If prayer is asking to be changed in ways you cannot imagine (and I believe it is), then it works. It really does.