Surrender to a rainbow.

As I sit here wrapped in an afghan that my mother made (thanks to my sister for insisting that I bring it home with me this past Christmas), I am at peace.

The morning meeting on the beach was exactly what I needed today. The white flag that marks the meeting spot was a welcome sight. Though I did not participate in my usual round of joyful hugs and kisses before or after the meeting, the benefit of just being there was evident as I noticed a feeling of peace enter me.

The speaker, ironically, spoke of the death of his own mother (who succumbed to our disease) which he experienced in sobriety. He related the blessings to all that resulted from her passing. I have always viewed my own mother’s passing as a blessing for her. She was one day shy of her 71st birthday (yes, tomorrow is her birthday). She was relying on a wheelchair for mobility as well as losing her sight due to her diabetes. She was a very stoic, self-sufficient woman before her diabetes robbed her of the things we all take for granted. I remember sitting with her on her bed one day as she cried. She talked about how one plans for their “golden years” only to be sentenced to life as an “invalid”. Oh how I cringed when she used that word! To me that word, broken down meant “not valid”. It indicated the hopelessness that had settled over her. Little did I know then how I would become an invalid of a very different sort.

I never thought of her passing as a blessing of my life…until today. March 21, 2003, I believe, was the day I gave up feeling. I drank myself into oblivion that night. I no longer wanted to feel anything, ever. The denial of those feelings, and many more since then, set off a chain of events that brought me to the gates of insanity in just 4 ½ years. In classic alcoholic fashion, I had “lost” everything worthwhile in life. (I use quotes because many things that I “lost” were in actuality, pushed or given away. I say “lost” to simplify.) That gift of loss and desperation led me to surrender my will and my life over to whatever was bigger and more powerful than me: my Higher Power.

Though my life does not even remotely resemble the plans I had as a younger woman, I believe that my spiral to oblivion and beyond was necessary for me and for those I can help as a result. I still sometimes wonder “what if” and wish things were different, but I no longer want to check-out. I believe I am more whole. I trust there is a reason for everything. I love and I forgive. I laugh and I cry. I still make mistakes, but I now care and make amends promptly when I am wrong.

I saw a rainbow on the way to the hospital that afternoon. I used to cry whenever I saw rainbows after that day because they served as a reminder of my loss. I hoped to see one today in celebration of how far I have come since Mom died. It was overcast and foggy at the beach so there was no chance of that, so I’ll settle for the rainbow of emotions I can feel today without taking a drink. And the next time I do see a rainbow, I will smile and know that my mom is smiling down on me, proud that I am alive, again.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.