I am grateful for the unmanageability in my life.

When I was in the throes of my addiction, my life was defined by unmanageability. It was turbulent, chaotic and unstable. Early on in my battle, it became increasingly difficult for me to be productive and even more difficult for me to be dependable. I was completely at the mercy of the obsession. In later years, as I began to strive for healing, that obsession became progressively unpredictable. I sometimes would think it had finally left me only to discover it hiding in the dark or lurking around a corner. I never knew when it was going to rise up, lash the whip, and have me scrambling to meet its demands. It was a time in my life that was full of turmoil and completely void of harmony. Self-reflection, however, does not journey alone. On its heels follows self-awareness and, subsequently, the steps toward self-correction often present themselves. I do not believe that all who are afflicted with the disease of addiction are blessed with the willingness to embark on the journey of self-correction. I think many get stuck at self-awareness, mistaking it for victory, but change doesn’t happen there. I was in that place for many years. I knew my life was unmanageable, but I did not know how to do it differently. I knew exactly what would happen when I would turn to substances; that is the insanity of it. I knew that destruction and turmoil would be the end result. But I also knew that when I gave into the merciless obsession, it would get quiet for a time. And that quiet was the only relief I experienced during those years. When the obsession was quieted, I was soothed. I realized that my solution of quieting the obsession was temporary, but I was at a complete loss of how I could silence it any other way. I had surrendered to the idea that my life was going to consist of periods of temporary-obsession-remission, followed by bursts of chaotic destruction when the obsession would inevitably surface once again. For me, this level of unmanageability led to a desperation to look for a way to permanently silence the compulsive thoughts and behaviors that had hijacked my life. A little at a time, a light was shone onto the path toward healing. Unbeknownst to me, it was a path that would eventually lead to permanent liberation from the smothering weight of the merciless obsession of my addiction. Like any journey, however, while the overall trajectory was forward, there were many challenges along the way. Initially, these challenges felt overwhelming, and while I was desperate to never drink or use again, I wondered often how on earth I was going to learn to live soberly. And so, as they say, I was at the jumping off place. Without consciously recognizing what was happening within myself, my perception had shifted, and I began to view the obstacles and challenges I was facing like rungs on a ladder. Each time I overcame something that once felt unsurmountable, I put my foot on the next rung of my ladder and forged ahead. Day by day, week by week, month by month, I used that ladder to climb out of my chaotic, unmanageable, and hopeless state of mind and body. Now, years later, I am still climbing my ladder. If I am lucky, I will always be climbing. For me, if I stop climbing, I stop learning. But each step I take provides a deeper level of understanding and willingness. As I look at my life today, from the proverbial rung of my ladder, I still see things I’d like to do better, and I still have struggles that require attention. But the level of unmanageability I have today- the kind that is about softening harsh edges and building on positive traits- feels exponentially more manageable than the kind of life I had when I was merely trying to survive. I have realized that experiencing relief and experiencing peace are not at all the same. Relief is felt as a byproduct of the ease of pain or discomfort. Peace, however, is cultivated. It doesn’t happen on accident. It is something we create space for and it’s something we actively bring into our lives as a result of living harmoniously and with intention. More than that, however, I have realized there is a terrible difference between surviving and living and I am so grateful to have been given the opportunity to participate in the latter.

“What if I fall? Oh, but my darling, what if you fly?” ~Erin Hanson