Here I go again, all prepared to start off this entry with an apology for why its been four months since I have written and my only excuse is… I have no real excuse. Living alone has been a weird adjustment, and even thought I have been doing it for nearly two years now, it took me not having the dog to be responsible for, to see how it really changed and affected me. I no longer had to take him for walks, so I should have the extra time to get back into my yoga, meditation, and better yet, more time for my writing. Right? Right?? Wrong! I merely had more time to park my procrastinating butt on the couch and binge something on Netflix or Hulu and if I am being brutally honest, it was often something I had probably already seen before (more than once)! I kept saying “Ok Laurie, this is the day, I will start my new routine” But then something weird would come up and overturn my applecart and I couldn’t restart the next day but instead, have to wait an entire week… because I couldn’t possible start something in the middle of the week, now could I??

But that’s my thought process, the broken part of me, thinking that I have to start at the beginning of the week and can not start something the middle! I also had issues with my health (my migraines), new grandchild (welcome Conrad David) and moving to my new apartment. I’ll admit I have been the queen of excuses in my past, but if I allow that again, then I that means I am am falling back into old patterns; which in turn just might be taking me down a path that sooner or later, could certainly, if I am not aware – lead to a drink.

Recovery, and living life here in it, can be a difficult road. Because once we defeat the disease, we also have to learn to daily live life on life’s terms and sometimes, sometimes it is loud and ugly and I don’t know about you, but, there are times when I would much prefer to run to the comfort of the warm, dark pit that I used to hide in;when things were not going the way I liked, where in the moment… I had the illusion of comfort and safety.

I spend one evening a week with two different groups of women, both who love me unconditionally as I do them. We lean on each other and simply help each other try to live life in the best way possible, the second group of women and myself are studying a book which shared the Portia Nelson poem:

An Autobiography in Five Chapters

Chapter 1
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in. I am lost….I am helpless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.

Chapter 2
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the side walk.
I pretend I don’t see it. I fall in again.
I can’t believe I am in the same place.
But it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

Chapter 3
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I fall in….it’s a habit…but my eyes are open.
I know where I am. It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

Chapter 4
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

Chapter 5
I walk down a different street.

Today, I have too, learned to walk down a different street. But it took time and some days, that street is lonely and quiet. It is on that quiet street that I find myself listening for His voice, guiding me further down the street, this street of unknowns. I need you here, He says. I have people for you to meet ahead, people to guide and travel with… I smile as His voice is always so comforting, so familiar, all I will ever need.

Join me on this silent journey, He will fill our hearts with all we need.