Illusions

For a good part of my life...(not "good" but much of), I wasn't sure that I didn't exist, only,as a part of somebody's dream. I longed for my dreamer to wake...so I could be done.

I remember, in my first apartment and telephone how I repeatedly would listen to my outgoing voice message, sort of in disbelief that the voice was mine. It felt so incongruous, because I knew I had no voice. My unfortunate reliance on volume and profanity to communicate....ineffectively conveyed only that I was a problem...to be dealt with or ignored, but not loved.

Profanity and volume were not the voice of me, but the scared, sad, ashamed, angry voices of alcoholism.

When I discovered an essential oil that I liked, I'd put it on my wrists and still to this day get comfort as i sniff-check it throughout the day. Because its MY scent. I'm real. I'm here. I'm not a figment of someone's dream or imagination. I am real...and gratefully (no longer:)not in charge of (responsible for)all problems. My "me" is somewhere in between "total sh@t and hot sh@t".

Here, I learn to practice acting my right size, through learning my needs, responsibilities, and limits. This program of recovery and design for "living" gently guide me in my self care, service and faith, delivering my me to a life of sanity, worthy of living. My recovery matters greatly. Thank you.