…you know the rest of how this adage goes.
Today, as I celebrate 99 days of sobriety, I am reminded of that saying, and another one: God never gives you more than you can handle–with his help.
I’m putting my faith full-force into a Higher Power that I barely know, let alone understand, today. This morning I got two phone calls in the wee hours. My mother: calling to inform me that she was in the hospital, had fallen, had broken a femur.
Meanwhile, I had to go to the doctor myself, for a biopsy procedure. I was terrified, but the doctor assured me the likelihood of cancer is extremely low. It was nonetheless both necessary, and rather uncomfortable.
I’ve taken as many steps as I can, for now, to ensure that I will be well, and that my Mom will eventually be too. I’m waiting for her operation to be completed, then going to visit her. She’s wildly self-sufficient. I will be caring for her cat, who is slightly less capable, natch.
Last night, I mediated in the bath, head underwater, silent but for the sound of my pulse, as I repeated the mantra: “so hum, so hum.” I am, I am. And so it goes, as long as we are breathing, we have breath to focus on. As long as we have a pulse, we can listen and remember: We are, we are.
Without my recovery, and without the people who help me know there is a we to this disease, I could not feel as grateful, or as connected, or as sure of my faith as I do right now.
The rains fall, but we can still know peace, kindness, and love–all of which have poured down on me, through these challenging hours.