surprise me

sober camp #3

In the last weeks in this cabin,
I have been buried in recovery resources,
outpatient treatment and counseling
and getting lined up with a grief and trauma therapist.

I have stacked days and days together without drinking.

I have listened to the neighbors chop a lot of wood.

I have sat outside with dear friends, in the sun
and then the shade, when we started turning pink.
These are friends that say things like,
"I was never disappointed in you,"
and then ask me what brings me joy.

I’ve sat in clunky hard amends conversations, too
where neither of us knew how to clearly state our feelings
but we tried for as long as it took
to start to feel whole again
instead of being reactionary or defensive
or walking away, dismantled.

I have been reading "Theo of Golden”
or maybe I should say I’ve been savoring it.
And Pico Ayer's "Aflame; Learning from Silence"
and it has me underlining and highlighting
and opening up.
Then there’s “Each Day a New Beginning”,
the recovery classic,
a morning framing of the upcoming day.
I finished “My Friends” by Frederik Backman
and loved it.

I have watched the last ever season of Queer Eye
and laughed and cried and felt inspired.
”We grow the most in discomfort.” - Jonathan Van Ness

I have looked at old videos and photos of my parents
and sat with them, still and open, soaking them in,
their voices and facial expressions,
their essence.
Please stay near.

I have experienced flat out miracles
and maybe I'll tell those stories sometime
but some are not mine
so I won't tell those.

I have another lifelong friend that has made
too many trips here
to bring me things like toilet paper or rice or eggs.
We laugh so hard, that soul friend of mine,
finding the humor
in even the darkest moments.
I watch her eyes crinkle and her hand
go up to her mouth
while she rocks forward with a belly laugh.

I have missed my dogs, especially George
no offense to Scott, Ruff and Dottie
but everyone knows the Shih Tzu
with the weird eye is my emotional support George.

Oh and I missed my family, too
but got to see them
like visits at treatment
and we’ve talked like therapy sessions,
healing.

I have written and written; in a journal
and in unseen documents
that might become something later
but I won't mind if they don't.

I have been doing Tai Chi Indoor Walking
and loving it
don't judge me
just look it up or something.
I have gone for walks outside too, okay?

I have kept a list of ideas and a therapy list,
things I know I need to work on most
and it’s strange (for me) that I am excited
to do that work.

I'm open and honest and willing and loved.
I'm interested in joy which has seemed sort of off-putting
to me for a long time; can't explain it.

I have cried so many times, on the phone with my sister
and in person with friends that love me through it
and trust me and believe in me,
but mostly by myself or with whatever holy beings
are floating around here only stopping to hold me.

I have cut off all my hair again, a pixie it is
because trying to have long luscious locks
to obtain some sort of younger look or something
just isn’t my jam.

I have decided I'm not returning to myself after all,
but instead I am walking toward the next Heather,
the next stage of my life,
to the wiser and more grounded and more joyful me.

Am I scared to go home, even with all kinds of support and recovery appointments in place?

Of course.

It’s not like there has been any kind of magic wand here
and this could not have been absolutely everything I need,
but I did it. I did what I had to do with the resources I had
and I made the most of it; did the very best I could.

(I’m maybe making those last belief statements until I believe them fully because my chemical dependency counselor had me take a look at all I’ve done and learned since I entered this cabin when I doubted myself because of someone else’s doubt about doing “treatment” this way; the only way I could. I had not been doubting myself, and my counselor told me to stick with that, because she too sees the progress I am making and that is enough. And she reminded me that no matter the opinions of one, or some, there is not One Way to do this. Also, I adore her; she is really good at her job.)

The inner work is something to share another time; all that has come to me through the silence of this place, in the stillness, scribbled into my journal.

Tomorrow I return home, to the needs and activities and dog hair and demands and no, I don’t feel ready. I could stay here a year and not feel “ready.” But it’s been almost a month away, and I’ll continue all the recovery things I have put in place. I will keep working on balancing this old nervous system of mine so I don’t get triggered so easily, and I’ll be working hard on my boundaries.

I have a friend that prays a little prayer, “Surprise me, God,” especially when she’s in the thick of it and it seems no answers can come. It struck me this morning that I need to add something to that.

”Surprise me, Heather.”

In other words, stop believing your patterns are stuck, or that you aren’t capable of consistent healthy action. Lean into what the silence and space has renewed in you. Believe you aren’t going to drink to numb or escape the Big Feelings or to just feel something different. Believe you can learn to regulate, hope, and stay present. Surprise me, Heather.

Peace, my friends. More to come…