“If you’re going thru Hell, keep going”

Winston Churchill said that. It’s come to be my daily motto. Nope hourly. Since leaving treatment, I’ve gained more insight and understanding about my disease of alcoholism. However, now life keeps going. Life, as they say, goes on. And life is beautiful, remarkable, wonderful…glorious. But some days and moments it’s hell. It’s hard as hell, I should say. Life’s experiences weigh on me, and lately I’ve got my share of hardship to endure. I left for a trip to see a dear friend recently. A childhood friend who, through our years of correspondence, has become so close to my heart. She just gave birth to a baby girl. The baby is now in NICU (neonatal intensive care). I can’t be there for her, as planned, because she spends every day in the hospital and my presence would probably be more of a burden than blessing. While I traveled many hours to be here for what was to be an exciting and joyful time, changed abruptly into a kind of emergency in which I feel helpless. Selfishly I want to be a part of her personal suffering. Or ease it. I know it must be unendurable. But she always appears so strong and relentless in her hope and faith. I wish it was a quality I had. I don’t. I have hopeless, tragic and lost down. You want a bleak outlook? Ask me. You want a doomsday prophecy, talk to me. But she is the opposite. Her faith in the positive and goodness inherent in this life is obvious and contagious. She’s non-judegemental, loving, peaceful, calm, accepting of everything life gives her (the good and the bad). How do some people carry such weight, gracefully and with total assurance that God has a plan? While others, like me, given the slightest problem (i.e. overdraft charges, car repairs, hyper children making messes, sleepless nights) crumble into despair? The science of optimism eludes me. But reminds me that my choices (reactions) can cripple or craddle me. I want to be craddled. Nurtured by positivity, light, God. Are people born this way? Or made. Alas, it matters not. The ability to pull myself out of depression will always be a task I must practice…daily. Hourly right now. In the first days after rehab, the first 6 months of soberity. Oh God how many times do I need to express this sentiment, “It’s so hard!” before I finally can say, “It’s hard…but so what. I can do hard things” and through my trials (relatively small compared to others) reach acceptance and gratitude? Hard isn’t bad.
Watch this fellow warriors, my friend is such a person:


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