Graduation

I usually sit in silence as I write this daily blog, but today I have turned on a little music to drown out the combination of a ticking clock and a dripping faucet.  Tick, plink, plink, plink, tick, plink, plink, plink.  The dripping water is necessary to keep the pipes from freezing.  It's cold this morning, and the forecast for the weekend is even colder - 18 degrees.  I am so thankful to be in a warm place.  I saw homeless people underneath the 210 overpass Sunday afternoon.  I hope they have found shelter from the cold.

Yesterday was graduation day from WRAP, the peer counseling recovery group.  Apparently, our group did an outstanding job participating in the sessions because one of the peer counselors framed our certificates to show her appreciation for how well we participated.  I can only imagine how difficult it must be to facilitate an eight week recovery program if people don't participate.

I remember how I felt during the first session.  It centered on hope and empowerment.  I didn't have hope, and I didn't want empowerment.  I had run up the white flag of surrender, defeated, dejected and spent. 

I was ashamed at how far I had fallen.  It was a terrible blow to me to admit that I had failed miserably in taking care of myself.  An important part of my identity was to be capable, to be able to figure things out.  I can't sing or dance.  No, really, I can't sing.  I sound terrible.  Those of you who have heard me know this.  And dancing, well, let's just say that I am not rhythmic.  When I was in high school, I'd watch other people dance, then watch myself in the mirror until I got the moves right.  And that was free-style dancing.  And I've never been the first person you'd think of when sending out party invitations.  I'm not good in large group settings.  But I can get an outstanding score on any intelligence test you give me.  So how could my life have gotten so out of control?  I thought I was smart enough to make good choices. 

Accepting the fact that I have a mental illness was not appealing to me, either.  It brought with it connotations of being defective.  And I am sure that my manufacturer's warranty has run out, and there are no recalls available to fix this.  I did not want to be a defective model.  The WRAP sessions have helped me to accept that I have a mental illness, and that I still can live a fulfilling and productive life.

Speaking of being productive, who would have thought eight weeks ago that I would be looking for a job now?  My life has promise and hope.  It's now a matter of staying focused on the here and now, paying attention to early warning signs, and getting help early on when I need it.  That's pretty easy right now because I am so new to the recovery process that I pay close attention to what's going on with me.  The challenge will be one, two, or even ten years from now.  But I'm not going to worry about that now.  I'm focusing on today.