Here’s the irony of aging in recovery for me: 5 years ago I was in great physical condition, but my spirit was ugly and decrepit. Today, I’m more aged on the outside, but a lot more beautiful and younger on the inside. I’ll take that trade.
When I gaze at the moon it staggers me. It has from a very young age. I realize how unimportant everything truly is. Except that here we are, hurling through space, caught up in a world of crap when we should be caught up in each other.
The minute I stop being vigilant. The very moment I start to live with a false sense of security. That is the exact moment damnation to the core will swallow me whole and spit my bones out. Alcoholism is a vile and cunning demon.
I am slowly learning that my opinions are not truths. They are just opinions. And sometimes, they are better off left unsaid. And until I can express them as opinions they should remain only my truths.
