I miss coffee dates and birthday lunches with friends, so I have had to get creative in my activities, like writing an action pack segment for my book that’s so juicy, impactful, and scary, yet pukka nonfiction.

Here is a thought. Recovery happens when fear is faced frontally.

My journey has been that of trial and error, mixed with some daring moves, music stomped by Chris Classic “Coretta,” horned in with Nina Simone, “Do I Move You,” wedged between some lighthearted “Godspeed,” by James Blake.  

The reading claims our paths are our own; not anyone will debate that. My sobriety journey is deliciously served on a smorgasbord of platters, allowing me choices to choose. What I mean is before putting down the mood-altering substances, I had few options, and when I did choose, I seldom followed through.

At the beginning of this journey, I could not listen to music. Mainly, I couldn’t listen to any music that would trigger thoughts of an old love, like alcohol. I had to avoid playgrounds and playmates that constantly sent enticing invitations. I had to stay grounded in the meetings, even when I didn’t like anyone in the rooms, including myself.

Each day by remaining abstinent from all my drugs of choice, things have remained the same, but I have changed. Today, I look forward to attending meetings. I plan to attend tonight in Boston. Yesterday I was in the UK. This afternoon I attempted Montreal, but the password was incorrect. Monday nights, I attend IG Live, Piano, and Prayer with Jonathan Singletary. Oh my goodness, my list seems wild, and it is, and I love it and don’t want to trade it for anything less.

The Duende of it all is my willingness to show up for me and allow the spirit to move me with dignity and integrity. And that’s hard for a girl that still likes to flirt around with flames. So, continually, I ask for help from my higher power to take my will and my life, guide me in my recovery and show me how to live sober daily.

My mind and body were deteriorating rapidly. By chance, I wanted help. I intuitively knew I had to make changes. I was willing to take a few suggestions, although sometimes grudgingly, I implemented, and I continue to change.

The fortitude I have for life today is not of my inclination, but that of a power so great that I am willing to allow that instinct to point me, and I have to be willing to take the direction. Each day, I take hold and have been positioning my move ever since—what a life to live lighthearted and carefree, knowing that all will be well.

Peace and love. Feel free to share and invite others. To unsubscribe, say so. The reading is attached.

Author, Lynda M.