I am grateful to know the difference between powerlessness and helplessness.
As the year comes to a close, I have found myself in a place of deep reflection over the multitude of things that are changing in my life. In response to this inner contemplation, I have presented myself with some questions to consider: How have I grown? What areas need attention this coming year? Where have I excelled and what needs refining? These are things I ask myself frequently, but whenever a new year approaches, it seems our society and culture at large begin to ponder these questions with renewed vigor. I am no exception, of course. This past year for my family has been drenched in change, and for someone who thrives on routine, structure, and predictability this change provided ample opportunity for reflection and transformation. In other words, it was challenging. I am not always the kind of person who approaches challenges with confidence. I have a tendency to roll around in the fear and self-pity in response to the discomfort that often accompanies change. Nonetheless, I am very introspective by nature, so when I find myself struggling to find peace, it serves me to ask, “What am I supposed to be learning? What is God trying to teach me?” Interestingly enough, this past year I have come to understand that God has not necessarily been teaching me new things. Rather, He has been persistent about revealing to me that sometimes I simply must practice reapplying lessons I learned long ago. And so, as it is the end of one year and simultaneously the beginning of another, it feels apropos that my time of self-reflection has taken me full circle…back to the beginning.
Someone asked me recently, “What was recovery like for you in the beginning?” I found myself answering with references to the first days, weeks, and months of my recovery. But if I’m to be completely honest, The Beginning actually started long before I got sober. The Beginning transpired in the mess and in the brokenness. In fact, my story had started long before I abandoned the idea that I had one to tell at all. But the disheveled and disordered mess of beginnings is often where we recognize what isn’t working. We start to sense that something has to change. It’s in the place of malfunction, maladjustment, and inefficiency where the most impactful transformation is often birthed. For me, the onslaught of change that occurred in my life this year stoked the burning embers beneath the slumbering beast of my depression. It has been a year that, at least early on, revealed more questions than answers. It was a year when often my fear took over my faith, and I found myself doubting. I began to recognize that many of the things I was feeling began to feed a narrative that I recalled from before I got sober. One particular feeling I identified consistently was a feeling of powerlessness. That emotion in particular has a tendency to send me into panic. I think there is an element of trauma tied in with it and it sometimes takes me a bit to remember that my feelings aren’t facts; they are just feelings. Contrary to my experience in the past, I was able to recall what I learned years ago about powerlessness: being powerless does not mean there is nothing I can do. I might be powerless over certain elements of my circumstance, but I am not powerless over how I respond to those elements. I still have tools at my disposal that can empower me despite my feelings of powerlessness. Having the presence of mind to identify those tools and then having the willingness to practice using them continues to be a crucial element in the measure of my serenity. Every story has a beginning, a middle, and an end. Mine is no different. I recognize this chapter of my life is just the middle part of my story. I have traveled a long way so far, and I likely have a significant journey before me. It would not serve me to focus on traveling perfectly without stumbling. The goal, for me, is to remember that no matter what I am experiencing there is something I am supposed to be learning and to try to remember that what I may perceive as losses, failures, or difficulties are often simply elements of divine redirection. No matter where I am in my life, I will ALWAYS have choices. I will have choices about where to focus my attention and how to respond. I will have choices about whether to continue forward on the path I am on or to turn and change direction. I will have choices about whether or not I am willing to reflect, to learn, and subsequently to grow. By definition, captivity means to be without choice. So, no matter how powerless I feel, because I have choices, I have all the power I need.
Happy new year to all of my fellow travelers. The sound a tree makes when falling in the forest only impacts those who hear it. My blog is the same, so thank you to all who take the time to read my words. It is an honor to share my experience with you. If there is someone out there struggling today, don’t give up. The mess that you are in very well may be the beginning of a triumphant story.
