Recovery is an odd term — one that I resisted because it didn’t seem to suit me. It seemed unfamiliar and abstract, like I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. As my husband began his journey into recovery seven years ago, I supported him. But it wasn’t my journey. He is an addict — and I wasn’t sure that recovery was relevant to me.
Back then we took a mediocre walk in recovery. It was barely beginning, like dipping our toes in the water and calling it a swim. But it was all we knew at the time. He went to meetings once a week, unless a family event for one of our kids took priority. As for me, I really had no understanding of what recovery meant.
I tend to think long, deep, and slow. It takes awhile for something to sink in for me to get it. It comes in layers. It starts off in a distant abstract thought, and then it hones in to something I can make sense of. Recovery for me was like that.
Today I’m drawn to recovery for what it means to me. Realizing that my old self was unhealthy, it is living into something new. This process of growth takes time. Often we don’t even know what is unhealthy if it is all we ever knew. The old ways don’t work and I finally see that.
Recovery is honesty. It is allowing myself to feel my feelings and embrace my humanity.
Recovery is self awareness. It is moving away from denial and avoidance, into reality.
Recovery is self affirming instead of self negating. It is healthy self care and setting boundaries.
Recovery is about connection instead of isolation. It is cultivating safe and supportive relationships for our growth.
Recovery is one day at a time living. It is cherishing today and investing my life well.
Recovery gives me a path toward healing and growth. It gives me steps to take to ground my footing. It brings me to a new place where I can thrive. I can flourish. Fully alive.