12 step recovery teaches me how to live life on life’s terms. Recovery teaches me to travel a spiritual path.
Some days, the most spiritual I can be is to do the right thing because I don’t want to do the writing assignment my sponsor will surely give me for being an ass.
Like Saturday. On Friday, I had been given the opportunity to make some extra hours at work on Saturday.. I knew those extra hours would involve some heavy lifting, and I have been feeling like shit; so I declined. Thank goodness the boss is such an understanding person; he is OK with me saying “I just can’t”. Well, he had something come up and needed somebody to come work, so I went. I knew that my boss was tired from a marathon of hunter/gatherer stuffs that he has to do during non-business hours so that he has an actual business to run during business hours. I also knew that the fucking credit card balance is unsustainable. So I went. I didn’t want to go to work. I also didn’t want to do any written assignment my sponsor would give me for not going to work because I didn’t want to go to work. Sometimes, that’s as spiritual as I can be.
There’s also the fact that I don’t say a lot of what I think or feel. See, my mama taught me that “if you can’t say nothing nice then don’t say nothing at all”; and my recovery teaches me that I have to make amends for any wrongs I commit. So, my mama’s teaching saves me a lot of writing and amends. Sometimes, that’s as spiritual as I can be.
I’ve learned that if it isn’t spiritual then it isn’t practical. Which could cook my noodle for sure if I pondered it too much.
Sometimes, though, that means that the most spiritual thing I can do is some self-care. Because it isn’t very practical to let my physical health deteriorate to the point where I’m useless to myself and my fellow human beings.
Yesterday, I realized that I had a problem. The light at the end of the tunnel was really a freight train headed my way. My fatigue had gone beyond hypoxemia from COPD and anemia. My fatigue, already a compound problem, was being exponentially worsened by lack of proper nourishment. Solid food feels like it gets stuck in my throat lately. I won’t worry about whether it’s irritated airways or a psychosomatic manifestation of my mental exhaustion. Why doesn’t matter, only what I am going to do about it.
So I went to the big box store and bought some powdered drink mix that makes meal replacement shakes. Because as much as I love the idea of my body eating my extra fluff around the middle, I know that if I let it happen this way it won’t end well on so many levels.
Sometimes, that’s as spiritual as I can be.