I’ve come to a revelation the past week, one that’s been forming for quite a while. I am now 814 days sober. What does this really mean? Clearly, I haven’t had a drink in over two years. I haven’t had a hang-over in some time. But more to the point I am living in recovery. I am living life on life’s terms as they say. Here are my adjectives to describe life today: It is raw, visceral, manic-depressive, electric, dark, light, cruel, honest, heartbreaking, breathtaking, extraordinary, ordinary and mostly it simply goes on. To my disappoint, bad days still find and break me. Oh but the good days. The days where I am able to breathe, to see my glorious blessing of a life and appreciate such an undeserved gift. As an alcoholic, I shouldn’t technically be able to feel the sunlight of the spirit shine on my human face. Who is worthy of this life? Not a selfish drunk like me. Someone who betrayed all trust; a young woman hell-bent on destroying anyone in her path to the next drink. I wish I could truthfully say I’m no longer capable of such unbridled egomania. I’m inherently flawed. I came out of my disease battered, bruised and resentful. Who was to blame for my pain? Parents, people, places and things. When I look in the mirror, I usually don’t like what I see. But now I can stand to look. I can be patient with my humanness today. When faced with the fatigue of the day, I choose the warmth of my bed. I cover my head and stubbornly ignore that the sun has risen. God sighs, “Get up and rejoice in your sobriety. I will guide you, I will lead you, I will make the choices …just get up.” And this is enough. I’ve learned two years later, to surrender to His will. When I can courageously put one foot in front of the other, the miracle of life plays out in front of me. I am not the principle actor or director in the performance today. God directs the show now. I don’t easily give up the director’s chair, but it’s the only way I know to create a masterpiece out of this train-wreck.