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March 30 • Imagining Hope

Day 630 As a recovering addict, what am I allowed to hope for? When talking with my Higher Power, is He interested in my hopes, or are they a bit pathetic compared to what He wants for me?

Or, to paraphrase a popular worship song, should I be able to hope at all?

When I was active in my addiction, all I hoped for was my next fix, and to not get caught in the process. As the darkness overwhelmed me, I started hoping to get caught, so I could stop worrying about that next encounter. And then I just lost all hope.

There was no way I was getting out of that in one piece, and if I did, there was no way I was getting anything like my old life back. I was screwed, and I did it to myself. Finding my way to a 12 Step meeting was an act of desperation, not courage.

Then hope began to return. Perhaps it was more a lessening of the desperation, but slowly I began to believe surviving was possible, but I could not put a picture to the possibilities. The best I could hope for was surviving. That would be enough.

In talking with friends in the program about how they are dealing with pandemic fears and lockdowns, I hear some of the same hopeless emotions. I've heard them talk about the moments of sanity they get from attending meetings and working their programs. I fear the addicts in us are stalking our defects and insecurities and making us vulnerable to giving up, or worse yet, giving in. It sounds familiar.

I dare not limit my hopes to what I can envision, and I want my addict to know that. I cannot confuse a lack of clarity about the future with a lack of faith in my Higher Power and what He is immeasurably capable of doing for me. Hope is real and necessary, but it does not have to be so specific that it limits the fulfillment.

I know I will not lose my sobriety today; I hope I will not tomorrow. Everything else I'll leave at the feet of Him who can do what needs doing. –JR

March 30 • Imagining Hope
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