Insert eye roll here.
For me, gratitude felt invalidating. All I could think of was the typical parent telling their child that there were starving children elsewhere in the world who would be grateful for that casserole in front of them.
And besides, I was in terrible pain when my memories started showing up. I couldn't drink or drug them away, and they were visiting me in my semi-conscious, drug induced state. Like a lion to an antelope, my past had me in a death grip on a parched plain that nothing could abate.
So here I was, newly sober, and folks were talking about gratitude? And the people with similar histories of mine were co-signing this practice of gratitude. They insisted that making lists of what I was grateful for would pay dividends in perspective and serenity.
I always started these lists with an attitude of having to eat my vegetables. I could hear my mom, insisting that a little butter, and salt and pepper would make them wonderful.
Ain't enough butter to make this fun.
So I would start my list. Now, for a newly sober, 27 year-old, with a trauma history that was coming out of me sideways, this truly seemed impossible. Anything I would come up with to be grateful about was instantly countered with a negative thought.
I'm alive (I wish I was dead).
I'm sober (I want to get drunk).
I have cigarettes (I smoked back then, so hey! It's the little things).
I have a bed that's warm and dry
Sure enough, the attitude would start changing . . .
I woke up today, and recognized the ceiling. (I had two fears when drinking. 1. Not recognizing the ceiling when I woke up or 2. Recognizing the ceiling and wondering what stupor of a state I was in when I drove home)
I have (insert name here) who understands what it's like to be a trauma survivor.
I live in a safe, sober environment (Thank you Serenity House!)
The list would go on from there. In no time, I could fill two sides of a blank sheet of paper with things to be grateful for. Lots of little things led to one big thing, the realization that there were good things in my life. Whether it was a random kind greeting from a stranger, a nod of understanding in a group, someone expressing goodness about my efforts (however haltingly) in my recovery, or just a moment of laughter, they all added up to a collective feeling of . . . Wellness? Oh my!
I utilized this practice during some of the most dark and challenging times of my recovery. And I did it when I was feeling good, just to practice for those dark times. Gary McKenney, a former counselor at Serenity House used to remind us all the time:
"I work my recovery on a daily basis. So when I have to, I don't have to."
Yet more often than not, beginning a gratitude exercise felt like eating my vegetables. I would pout, refuse, get angry, and just delay the inevitable of beginning this work. I used to think badly of myself for procrastinating. But now, I realize that to make room for gratitude, I also had to get some intense feelings out of the way. It was all part of the process.
A few years back, I started a post on social media called Gratitude Tuesday. I ask folks what they're grateful for that day. Many times, folks thank me for reminding them to be grateful. What I've reflected back on occasion is that the responses remind me to work toward gratitude. There's always something to be grateful for. Even if all I have is one, small thing to hang on to, that's enough to maintain a spark of hope for my recovery.
Mmmmm! Butter.
M :-)
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