#soberlife

A candid letter from someone coming straight out of rehab. Part 1.

~ The Fragrance of my Mother ~ Leave a comment

Treatment. Recovery Program. IOP. Addiction Center. 

All of these names are just different ways of saying what it really is. 

REHAB. 

In short, rehab is the place you find yourself in (if you’re fortunate enough to survive a raging addiction) when a “life-controlling issue” (usually drugs, alcohol and sex and oftentimes all of the above) becomes unmanageable and you need help to learn how to live a healthy and successful sober life. 

In other words, when your life completely falls apart due to said raging addiction, chances are you’ll wind up in rehab. 

Rehab is weird. 

Everything about it is weird. 

For someone who’s never been, it’s hard to understand what it’s really like being in a treatment center. Typically, the only point of reference is what’s seen in movies and TV shows, and honestly, most don’t give an accurate depiction of what it’s actually like. 

So for anyone who’s never had the privilege of going themselves, I’ll do my best to give you a semi-snarky yet still incredibly accurate depiction of what it’s like…. In rehab.   

 I liken rehab to stay-away summer camp when you were a kid. 

You leave your friends and family for a few months and “camp” now becomes your home, your life and all you talk about for the duration of your time there. (And probably for months after you leave because it’s all you’ve come to know, but more on that later.) You eat, sleep and breathe “camp.” 

You can always tell a first timer from someone who’s been a few times already. There’s a certain fear-ridden look accompanied by awkward body language that screams of discomfort. But much like camp, you eventually find your “tribe” and you might shed some tears, but you’ll definitely share some laughs.

Instead of cool camp counselors with even cooler nicknames, it’s counselors of the therapist variety that just want you to call them by their first names. Everyone is just hoping to get that one chill counselor with a killer personality that all the other “campers” rave about… looking at you “Kyle”.

There aren’t cabins and sleeping bags, however there are still bunk beds and uniform comforters for every “camper.” 

Depending on where you go, you may or may not get to experience a campfire. But instead of eating smores and telling scary stories under the stars, you’re sipping caffeine free hot tea at a twilight trauma process group… (Honestly, there are still scary stories, but it makes you miss the ones about a shape-shifting creature that lives deep in the forest.) 

Instead of fun and games, there’s awkward encounters and “icebreakers.” 

For those of you who never played a game called Medic at summer camp, it’s where a small group of people line up at one end of a field and literally everyone else stands sprawled across the field with pool noodles in both hands. The smaller group then makes a mad dash in hopes of making it to the other side while the larger group with the pool noodles try to smack the runners trying to cross. If you get smacked before you reach the other side, you’re down. This continues back and forth until all the runners are out. Without fail, there’s always one kid who smacks way too aggressively and someone ends up getting hurt. In rehab, this is the equivalent of what happens emotionally during group therapy when the counselor says, “Does anybody have any feedback?” 

Instead of learning skills like how to ride a horse or how to do archery or how to survive in the wilderness, you learn skills like how to cope and how to deal with grief and loss and how to survive social anxiety in the real world. 

Instead of learning to navigate a high ropes course, you learn to navigate your negative emotions. 

Most camps have certain cheers and chants that you’ll know by heart for the rest of your life, but instead of “Peel banana, Peel peel banana”, in rehab it usually goes something like “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference…”

Sometimes there’s arts and crafts, but it’s usually either a way to pass the time or some sort of art therapy. (I can’t knock on this one too much because as a creative, I happen to really enjoy art therapy.) 

You have a completely scheduled day 7 days a week,complete with 3 meals in the “dining hall” with all your fellow campers and a certain allotted amount of freetime. You have a time to wake up and a time for lights out. 

At both camp and rehab, there are many different personalities and you’re in close quarters with the same people all day, everyday, so meltdowns are to be expected. However, few compare to when someone takes the last of the “good cereal.”  (Me not at all speaking as the one who had a meltdown over cereal… this is where the coping skills would have come in clutch.)

At the end of the summer, you find yourself filled with memories and experiences that you’ll never forget. Rehab is very much the same way. Although not always “fun”, it’s definitely an experience you’ll never forget, and HOPEFULLY, you’ll be the better for it. But unlike summer camp, the hope is to never have to come back, although many often do…

You might be the kid who only goes for one summer or you might be the kid who’s far too old to be there, but her parents sign her up anyway. Either way, if you just go and keep your mind and your heart open, chances are you’ll be glad you went. (Or maybe you’ll just goof off all summer and end up there again… but hey, there’s always next year.) 

Obviously, this is a very light-hearted take on a very heavy topic. The process of getting sober and living in recovery can be daunting and often, that process starts with rehab. I will forever be so grateful for all of the amazing therapists, friends, groups and time I spent learning and changing because I made the choice to go to rehab. Some people can absolutely quit cold turkey and that works for them, however I just wasn’t one of them. 

It took me a few times at summer camp to really get it, but now the time has come where I take everything I learned and apply it to life back home. With that has come a lot of different challenges in adjusting to life again.

More on that later…

A Morning In Recovery.

~ The Fragrance of my Mother ~ 1 Comment

It’s a chilly, sunny morning in November. It’s that perfect cold right before the temperature really drops to freezing. I have the morning to myself. I decide to go to my favorite little coffee shop in my very favorite part of town. I order my usual black and white mocha, extra hot, with oat milk and a banana chocolate chip muffin. I find the perfect table right in the back where there’s the perfect balance of sunlight shining in and cozy lamp lighting above my tiny table perfect for just me. The place is buzzing with people but not overwhelmingly so. The sound of milk steaming, laughs and conversation between friends and jazz surround me. I put my phone away and only have a book, my coffee and my laptop to write. 

It’s the perfect morning. 

I sit and think to myself that in this moment, I am truly happy. I am truly content. It’s the most present I’ve felt in about the last month or so. 

As I sit and just soak in the moment, there it is. A voice that although silent to everyone around me, might as well be yelling in my ear. A loud and intrusive guest who sat down at my table without being invited and whose only intention is to ruin my morning. Maybe even my whole day. Maybe even my life.

“A cocktail sounds really good right about now. I really want to drink.” I think to myself. 

It’s 10 a.m. 

Where did that even come from?! Here I am, minding my own business, enjoying a beautiful morning and having a completely blissful moment to myself and I want to drink?! Why?! 

I’m not upset. I’m not grieving. I’m not in a triggering location. I’m not around alcohol. I’m not feeling sad, angry or depressed. I’m not nervous or socially anxious (which is usually, without fail, my greatest trigger to drink). 

I sit and so begins the overanalyzing and I find myself drifting to the past and to the future. I find the present moment slipping away. My head starts spinning and the thoughts start flooding my mind. Suddenly, I’m not alone at this table. Soon enough, anxiety, frustration, shame and discouragement sit down and join me, just as unwelcome as the urge to drink. 

Now in the past, honestly, I probably would have just agreed with the voice tempting me to drink and walked myself to the bar next door and called it “bruch”. I mean it is Sunday after all, therefore it’s totally acceptable to be wasted by 1 pm. And I’ll have the rest of the day to just sleep it off and still make it to work at 7 am tomorrow morning. 

Or, I would have just packed up my stuff, morning ruined, spiraling in shame and discouragement and finding myself fighting the urge to drink the rest of the day. Chances are, eventually I would have given up and given in. 

But today is different. 

Addiction is a bully. One who’s bark, unfortunately, can be just as brutal as its bite. At times, unceasing and relentless. 

I really shouldn’t be surprised by moments like this. When thoughts come unannounced and seem unwarranted. But still, I am. 

That’s the thing about addiction. It’s not logical. Its nature is confusion, chaos and destruction. It doesn’t wait for life to fall apart or disappointment or anxiety to hit you AND THEN presents itself. It comes whenever and however it pleases. It will make itself known on the bad days and the best days. 

As I sit here this morning, I decided I could either let the shame of struggling with thoughts of drinking consume me like a sickness, OR, I could simply put pen to paper, so to speak, and take the road of vulnerability and shed a little light on what it’s like for someone who’s just trying to better their life and choose recovery. 

So today, that’s exactly what I’m doing. 

It’s amazing the power that’s lost when we’re just honest. Shame has kept me silent so many times before, because even admitting that I was struggling with wanting to drink seemed like a failure. I felt like I had failed even before I picked up a drink. 

Sitting in this little coffee shop, I made the decision to just say NO and with it, anxiety, shame, frustration and discouragement all got up and left my table. I can’t help but feel like those rude and intrusive thoughts are just lurking, waiting for a moment to sit down with me again. But for the moment, at least they’re quiet. 

I wish I could say it was that easy all the time and that I won’t be tempted again 5 seconds after typing these words, but the truth is that’s just not always the case. But for this moment, I’m saying NO. 

I turn my attention back to my book, and continue to slowly sip on my latte, thankful that I’m still sitting in this coffee shop and not at the bar next door. 

Today was a win and as much as addiction tried to steal my joy this morning, it didn’t succeed. 

It’s still a beautiful morning and I am still sober. 

For that, I’m grateful. 

Three Years…

~ The Fragrance of my Mother ~ Leave a comment

FullSizeRender.jpgThree years. It seems like forever, yet at the same time, it seems like just yesterday.

It’s been three years since I’ve heard your voice. Three years since I’ve heard your infectious laughter. Three years since I’ve called you at three in the morning and you let me come over and watch movies and you stayed up with me, just so I didn’t feel alone.

Three years breaks my heart. Three years makes me really appreciate the 23 years I got with you, however it seems so cut short. Three years feels like way too long to go without my Momma’s advice.

However, you left me with the legacy of your life. You reminded me that it’s one step at a time. You reminded me that God holds a light to our present steps and motions. You taught me that it’s okay to not know how the future is going to go, and it’s okay trust Jesus step by step.

More than anything, my Mom taught me that fear is only an emotion…. If we allow it to be. She taught me that all of us get scared, especially about the unknown, but her faith and her unwavering dedication to trusting God with such uncertainty showed me that even though life may not turn out how you want, God is ALWAYS good. He is ALWAYS sovereign. He is ALWAYS faithful.

My life looks nothing like I thought it would at 26 (or regardless of age, wherever I’m at). I’ve learned that heartache doesn’t dissipate. I’ve learned that there will always be reminders of heartache.

Forgiveness doesn’t wipe out the existence or the memory or hurt, it simply allows us to graciously accept our current circumstances. Healing is taking brokenness in stride. It’s understanding that the process of being mended is a delicate balance of joy and suffering.

In order to truly appreciate the journey of healing, you have to know where you started and came from. To see where God brought you to, or out of.  Learning to walk with faith doesn’t always mean walking without grief. But there is a sacred beauty in the joy that comes from that refinement. The scars we bear are beautiful because they reflect the scars of a man who took on what we couldn’t. Jesus. 

Ecclesiastes says that “Everything is made beautiful in it’s time.” There is a time for everything. When we hold onto pain, anger and hurt we miss SO much that is happening to us. When we graciously accept all of this as a tool of refinement, we are able to see past the emotion of heartbreak and see how God is using it to shape us.

In all the “times” that God speaks about love and hate, I’m reminded that when we hate, God is love. In our time of tearing, God is mending. In our time of quiet, God speaks louder than ever. In our time of grieving, God teaches us to dance.

This isn’t a post about having all or really any of the answers, it’s a post about being reminded of that fact that Jesus is sovereign over everything.  My Mom’s legacy reminds me to take every day as if you’re being lead by a lantern.

Every step is lit only one by one. I may not be able to see every step in my future or know where it leads, but I rest in that fact that it’s covered by Jesus. I may have my moments of questioning and doubting, but I am so  reassured of the grace of God. I feel freedom to ask what he wants to show me. I feel freedom to ask where he wants me to go and what He wants to do with my life.

All this to say, I feel like my Mom played such a huge role in me trusting Jesus. Her future was SO uncertain. Her life was ended much sooner than she (or any of us) had planned, but Jesus had planned something different and she rested so peacefully in that. She is my legacy. She is my reminder that Jesus is ALWAYS good. And most importantly, she is my reminder that what I do with my life is not of myself, but of Him.

The Unraveling

~ The Fragrance of my Mother ~ Leave a comment

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Todays thoughts: Being alone takes courage.

Whether by choice or not, both bring a different element of discipline. Being alone by our own design is courageous because it means actively quieting all the voices of desire that fuel expectation; both of our own or of everything and everyone around us. Making the deliberate choice to take pause and time for ourselves and our own lives, often isn’t the easy decision.

Being alone when it’s not our own choice is courageous because it means choosing patience to bravely stand alone over things that we can’t always control. Whether it’s something that has been stripped away or simply hasn’t presented itself yet and despite the longings in our hearts, it takes courage to wait faithfully. To trust that there still is hope, even though our futures may not look anything like we’ve imagined them to.

I find myself somewhere in the middle of these two positions. Sitting on the edge of complete uncertainty, yet intentionally making the decision to stay exactly where God has me. I’d being lying if I said it was my choice to be where I’m at in my life currently, but I can say, that it is my choice to accept it honestly and faithfully, and find grace in wherever that is. Grace towards everyone around me. Grace toward God and his radically different plans than my own. Grace to accept that my mom “should” still be here with me. Grace over the anger and emotion of my very flawed, human heart. Grace towards myself.

I fall prey to the feeling of unworthiness more than I’d like to admit. I believe the lies. I believe the thoughts of not being good enough. I believe that, even just at 26, I’ve made too many mistakes. I’ve messed up too many things and I’m truly not enough and seemingly, never will be.

Although through the eyes of humanity, those things at times may be true, but I have been so struck by the truth that God’s grace is enough. It’s such a simple truth, yet it’s filled with complexities that go so far beyond my human understanding. My grace fails all the time. Sometimes, I don’t always have the capability of displaying true grace. Grace to forgive. Grace to understand. Grace to be compassionate. Grace to be patient. Grace to be kind.

To stand alone in these realizations can be really hard. In my human mind, it often times comes across as I’m not enough. The really beautiful thing about that is that it’s true. The only thing that makes that not completely contradictory, is that we can admit that we’re not enough, and in that grace, we can stop apologizing for who we are and where we are, and accept exactly where we’re at but without shame. We can admit the things we’ve messed up and done wrong, but we don’t have to live in the fear of being completely unworthy.  

I’ve spent several days and nights quietly by myself recently and in those times, I’ve had a lot of time to really appreciate that time alone. I don’t mean that I’ve always been blissfully happy in the peace of my own home, because truthfully, many of those moments have come with tears, with heartache and trying to just figure out how to exist by myself for the foreseeable future. But in the midst of all of that, it’s come with understanding.

Suddenly, letting go of “who I should be”  or “where I should be” doesn’t seem so scary. I may still be scared of a future unknown, but I’m starting to have the courage to lean into that fear and face it without the shame of being unworthy. Instead of putting on a brave face, learning to live authentically, exactly as I am.

I’ve had the feeling my life was “falling apart” a lot recently. The more I’ve prayed and the more I’ve asked for God’s grace over the understanding of my life I’ve started to see it more as a beautiful unraveling. Although my life may be “coming apart” it doesn’t mean it’s not intentional. I believe that sometimes God pulls on the strings of our lives. Not as puppets, but as creations. Sometimes you have to pull something apart to put it back together, only better.

I was angry for a long time about this. I felt like God pulled the strings of my life more like I was a marionette doll. I felt like all these things were happening in my life and I was just supposed to “move how God tells us to move.” It made no sense to me because how I felt didn’t match how I was supposed to act.

It took awhile, but I eventually saw that God wasn’t pulling the strings of my will, He was pulling the strings of my circumstance and my heart. He could see what was loose and snagging, where I couldn’t.  He wasn’t trying to control me, He was trying to secure me. Where I was unraveling, He wanted to put me back together, the right way. Sometimes in order to do that, it requires being isolated.You would never catch a single snag in a sea full of threads.

God had to get me alone to really hear His voice. My heart has been so tired and I’ve felt so isolated, but I’ve found more courage in those solitary moments than I have ever before, so I’m thankful.

It by NO stretch, means that it’s been an entirely enjoyable experience, but I am still finding joy in present moments. I’m still finding strength that I didn’t know I had. In everything I’ve felt like I lost and in all of the angry moments of feeling alone, God has never been absent. He has never not been visible in the fabric of my life. It’s just a matter of if I choose to see past my present emotion and trust that my future will make more sense.

When the comforts around you disappear, even ones that you’ve maybe even depended on for years, and you stand alone, your heart learns to take courage. Courage to let your past be your past. Courage to be vulnerable. Courage to lean into the hurts of your heart all the while, leaning into a God that is bigger than all of those hurts combined. Courage to willfully still choose joy.

Despite being afraid, I’ve found that God grants us the courage to be brave in imperfection. We can live a life completely unraveled, and still be a perfect a mess of threads. A mess of human emotion. The beauty is that when we see a mess, or even a disaster, Jesus sees a lifetime of untangling.

To live and to love so fiercely, with such a raw vulnerability, with so little guarantee of the life that we’ve always pictured, is the ultimate picture of Jesus to me.

“To be nobody-but-yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody but yourself – means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight- and never stop fighting.” – E.E. Cummings

When It All Falls Apart.

~ The Fragrance of my Mother ~ 1 Comment

sunshine-after-rainThere have been several moments in my life, especially in my adult life, where my faith, and every aspect of it, has truly been challenged. Through every moment, God has been so faithful. The thing about that though, is just because God is faithful, doesn’t mean things are going to be painless. You’d think I’d have learned this by now, but it’s something I’m still being reminded of. The past 3 or 4 years have been filled with some of the greatest joys and greatest heartbreaks of my life. I’ve experienced love, loss, joy, sadness, trust, anger and about a million other lessons and emotions. Sometimes, growing up is hard, but God is good, ALWAYS. I may not always be faithful, but He is faithful, ALWAYS. Something I’m also still having to remind myself of constantly.

God has brought me through a lot the last few years. I’ve struggled, I’ve learned, I’ve grown. (Not always in that order, but He eventually gets me exactly where He wants me.)  But what I’m finding is that just because you make it through one difficult season, it doesn’t mean there aren’t more to come, and possibly harder ones than the seasons you’ve already walked through.

Life has recently brought me to a place of complete and total uncertainty. A place of once again, having no answers. Every aspect of my life seems like it’s a question mark right now. Even God. I question what He’s doing. I question why He’s doing what He’s doing. I question why He allowed me to walk through the things He has. Why He’s allowed me to struggle so much with the things I’ve been struggling with. I’ve questioned His goodness. I’ve questioned His sovereignty.

2 years ago, I was in a very similar place. I was lost. I was stubborn. I was trying so desperately to just cling to something, anything that would give me some sort of a tangible sense of security, if only for a moment. I wrestled with anger and doubt. I called God and who He says He is into constant question. It took awhile, but He eventually brought me to a place of surrender. As much as I fought it, as much as I tried to place the blame of my circumstances on literally anyone and anything other than myself, He got me, and as soon as He did, life started to get better. It didn’t always feel like it and it was never a quick process, but looking back, I can see His hand on me the entire time.

This time around, in this season, it’s a little different. I started this blog after my entire world had already come crashing down around me. I’m writing this today from the moment just before that. That moment when the ground moved so violently under my feet that everything that I was holding so tightly to, was forced out of my grip. That moment when everything is up in the air, and as gravity brings it all back down, you either catch it or it all falls to the ground.

It’s been hard for me to not have the mindset that I’m in the exact same place as I was 2 years ago. That I may have grown in that moment, but I’ve backslid right to where I was and it was all for nothing. Unfortunately, in some ways it’s true that I’m in a very, frighteningly similar place, but in other ways, it’s completely different. This time, as I’m watching everything be thrown from my arms and out of my control and instead of doing whatever I can to reach out and grab onto whatever is still within arms reach, I’m stepping back and willingly let it all fall.

I thought the scariest place I’ve ever been in, was a place where God asked me if I’d be willing to give up the things that mean most to me in this world, to obey Him. The thought of letting go of the things that made me feel safe was terrifying to me and sometimes still is. Thinking about letting go of things I’d come to depend on and look to for comfort was truly not something I was interested in doing. God gave me plenty of opportunities to loosen my grip and to let go, but every time I got close, I would get scared and I would hold on tighter. Eventually, He got me to a place where as much as I wanted to, I just couldn’t hold on to it all anymore and I had no choice but let go. What I failed to realize was that the scary place isn’t being willing to give everything up, it’s being in a place where you’re not. A place where you convince yourself that you have control over your life and your future. A place where you truly believe that you can hold everything together all by yourself.

After that, I never thought I’d be in that place again, until now. Flash forward 2 years. This time though, I can recognize when God is trying to get ahold of my heart. Instead of fighting Him every step of the way, I am learning to be willing to turn my eyes to Him, put my arms down and let God catch and place in front of me only the things that He desires for me to have. That’s the beauty of Jesus. That’s the beauty of the reckless love of a Savior who knows far better than I do. I have been SO uncertain, SO confused, SO heartbroken and SO angry, again. I turned my back on Jesus, again. I heard Him calling my name over and over, and I still kept running away, again. And yet despite all of that, the minute I turned around and needed help, He came straight to my rescue.

Being obedient is definitely not always easy, especially in the midst of such uncertainty. Having to admit that that uncertainty came from a combination of things that were both out of and within your control is tough. Having to acknowledge that we don’t know best for ourselves and that sometimes that means walking everyday, in what seems like total darkness. The unknown is scary. The possibility that maybe the life we had dreamed of and created for ourselves isn’t necessarily the right thing, is even scarier. I’m constantly reminding myself that even though it doesn’t feel like it, and even if it seems impossible, that is the best place to be. To be in complete surrender.

This blog started out of desperation and longing for clarity. I wanted answers and I wanted reasons for things that still remain unexplained. Although it doesn’t feel like it, this blog continues out of the growth of my heart through God’s faithfulness. It’s really beautiful to look back at where my heart was, to see that the things that I was struggling with, and the person I was at the time were never out of God’s grasp or mercy. I’m able to step back and let the pieces of my life fall apart this time, and despite all the uncertainty surrounding me, know that He is going to let everything fall where it’s supposed to. In all of this, God has never failed to bring everything together and pull everything into one flawed but perfect picture.

Although I’m learning to completely trust God to support and fulfill me, I can’t ignore the fact that there is a huge part of all of this missing; my mom. I can’t help but wish she was able to walk beside me and help me through all of this. This blog began as a way to finish a legacy that she started, but it’s through this, that God has allowed me to heal, to surrender, to be accountable, to be honest, to be open and to experience the fullness of His grace in a way that I never have before. I can’t think of a better reflection of my mom and who she was than through that. Not only do I get to keep creating my own legacy through all of this, but God made it possible to breathe life into hers even after she’s gone.

To anyone who is struggling on a similar road, one you never wanted to be on in the first place, or never thought you’d be back on, please know you’re not alone. It sucks, it’s heartbreaking, at times it feels hopeless and it’s SO hard, but you are not alone. In all the questions and in all of the broken moments, the only thing I truly know is that God is ALWAYS good. God is ALWAYS sovereign. God’s grace is ALWAYS sufficient for us and even when it hurts, He is ALWAYS worthy of our praise.

“Awake my soul to sing with Your breath in me, I will worship. You taught my feet to dance upon disappointment. And I will worship.”