I Have So Much Left

I think that a tremendous part of my addiction (eating disorder and alcoholism) stemmed from the fact that nothing is fair.  I lost my daughter, Kendall, to a stillbirth, and it wasn’t fair, and I was SO MAD, and I knew that nothing could ever bring her back, no matter how much I tried to fix myself or punish myself, so why not drink myself to death?  I was entitled to this, because of my righteous indignation: LIFE SUCKS BALLS AND IT ISN’T FAIR.

But the problem is, life doesn’t ever stop being not fair.  Not even three years ago, I had a miscarriage, and just like that, my baby girl, McCartney, was gone.  My arms and my heart were empty. I raged and I raged at God and myself and the universe.  When were things going to even out?  (Yeah, kind of like never.)

Life will be FULL of disappointments, sorrows, fear, and grief.  What happened to me, though, was that amidst all of my own disappointments, sorrows, fear, and grief, I became so consumed by it all, that I forgot to see that my life also contained joy, and humor, and love, and hope.  I was so desperately searching for a respite from the storm raging around me at the bottom of a bottle or at a lower number on the scale, that I didn’t see that the respite I was so desperately searching for was all around me, in little ways and in little moments: when my son did a school project on me, because I am his hero.  When I see that my daughter’s sparkly, down-turned, and lovely eyes are my own.  When I hear I love you more times in a single day than I deserve.

And so my life wasn’t fair, and so I continued to starve myself.  To drink.  To swallow pills to fall asleep and numb the fact that I was even ALIVE.  When life got fair, I would stop.  I would.

But really, I wouln’t have.  And I couldn’t have.  My addiction had its sharp and terrible claws deeply rooted in me.

When I went to rehab, all of the terrible things in my life that had happened to me didn’t go away, or morph into something prettier.  I still have my sorrows and my anger, and life, as always, wasn’t fair. The only thing that had changed in my life was that I was clean and sober - but just that - just keeping my body clean from the substances that poisoned my mind and my body...I got clarity.  I could see the hope and the beauty all around me, even amidst the ugly thorns in my life.  I stopped expecting life to be fair, and instead adjusted my point of view to pray for acceptance, surrender, and hope, to forgive myself for the past and to let go of it, and to endure whatever lay ahead of me.

And let me tell you: since I have been out of rehab for the last six or so weeks, I have absolutely had to endure.  Maybe more than I ever thought I could: I lost my horse - my mare who taught me that I could be brave and strong and powerful and bad-ass.  I have lost (and will continue to do so) much of my physical capabilities by being diagnosed with Alcoholic Neuropathy.  I am in so much pain every day, and I feel so bereft, being only a shadow of who I used to be.  Very soon I will be losing all four of my cats.  Because the acute asthma I suffer from has catapulted to insane levels, and is becoming resistant to treatment.  My cats are killing me. Literally.  And knowing I will lose them makes me so frantic and desperate that I cannot dwell on it long.  And, we are losing our home - we are moving.  It is so difficult to stay sober in the home that I spent most of the last few years in drunk, high, pathetic, miserable, and self-seeking.

So much loss.  So much taken away from me.  And I am bewildered and frightened and mourning.

In the past, this would have been excellent ammo to justify my addiction, and I would have wallowed in the loss and grief and not-okayness of it all.  But I can’t do tha

t anymore.  Not if I want to live.  So,  I have stopped expecting life to be fair.  I instead only try as hard as I can to be brave and strong while I endure all of the unfair storms in my life.  I no longer want to be defined in this world by everything that I have lost, but by everything that I fight for.  And I am in the fight for my life.  And it is messy and beautiful and WORTH IT. (You are, too.)

“Oh, my friend.  It is not what they take away from you that counts, it’s what you do with what you have left.”

—Hubert H. Humphrey

I have so much left.  I have three beautiful children, and I have a husband who loves me and tries just as hard as I do to make himself better and to be a good and right force in this world.  I have an amazing family Who doggedly love me, even through the decades of anguish and worry and frustration I put them through.  I have new beginnings and second chances.  I still have my blind pup who is my permanent sidekick and offers his love an protection through his stalwart little affinity for me.  I have my Higher Power - my God in Heaven - who loves me and believes in me, even though He kind of created a hot mess.

And it’s funny.  Amidst the howling wind and the angry storm that the adversary throws at me, despite the endless tears and sometimes the dark, heavy blanket of depression, I still love this damn life.  Sometimes I’m kind of amazed that this Jaded Ice Queen does - but it’s true.  I just do.  I just love this life.  Because amidst the storm and the wind and the darkness, I live in the most beautiful garden - a garden that blooms and flourishes because of the love and prayers and forgiveness given me.  It is a paradise.  A beautiful, dazzling, paradise. 

Life isn’t fair.  And it isn’t for the faint of heart.  But it is beautiful and the grace we get in this world to be better and do better is this most precious gift.  And while this life isn’t always fair, we must remember that the grace, the forgiveness, the second chances, and the uncomplicated and Perfect Love WE get time and again in this life aren’t fair either - we rally don’t deserve it.  But we get them anyway.

Do not forget to see the beauty and grace amidst the unfair and the ugly.  It is quieter, and it is harder to find, but if you look, you will see it everywhere.

“I like living.  I have sometimes been wildly despairing, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.”