Life on Life’s Terms: Navigating a Season of Life

navigating a season of life

I lost three followers yesterday because of something I didn’t even realize was in a photo I took. Something that doesn’t belong to me, because I’m not living in my own home. Because I don’t have a home anymore.

My babies went with their father yesterday to his sister’s house. Where his mother lives. The mother who bullied me, threw out my only cherished possession, hurt me, left my baby in the bathtub, and told my 5 year old that she would have me “gone for good” and scared her so badly that she refused to leave my side. The mother who abandoned him when he was a baby to smoke crack–but I guess leaving her children made her a better mother.

My husband has spent a grand total of about 8 hours with our kids in over a month since I’ve been at my mom’s house. He’s given us maybe $20 and maybe a pack of diapers each for our 6 month old and 2 year old. He has maggots in the sink and cat and dog feces all over the house because he doesn’t let them out and doesn’t clean up after them. But he still blames me and says he’s “still cleaning up ‘my’ mess.” He tells his family and his friends what a bitch I am. A worthless junkie who ruined his life. They believe him. He tells strangers on the internet that he’ll go to jail before he pays me alimony or child support.

He put his hands around my throat and convinced the cops that I attacked him.

My coworker keeps calling in, at least once a week, and I desperately need the hours but I can only split shift with my assistant manager because my mom can’t watch the kids for that long on her own, and my husband won’t help. He’s too busy.

Finding a house with at least 3 bedrooms, on its own property, with a fenced yard, that isn’t a mobile home and is under $100,000, or is a mobile home and isn’t more than $40,000–is impossible.

I’ve put 98% of my time and energy into a project that I just can’t seem to get people involved with.

So many aspects of my life are so far out of my control that making it from one minute to the next feels impossible.

So many days I wake up feeling like a failure. I push through it, I try to do better.

So many days I go to bed feeling like a failure.

But everything is a season, and seasons were made to change. Nothing stays the same for too long. That’s what makes life interesting.

I can’t control what happens to me. I can’t control other people, places or things. I can only control how I respond to the chaos.

Today I have the power to control how I respond because I’m sober. I get to choose whether I allow myself to be swept up in the madness or I get to choose to stay grounded.

I get to choose who I’m going to be today.

And who I choose to be is a person who chooses to be better. Better than I was yesterday. Better than I am in this moment. Better for my children and my family and for all the people who count on me.

Today I get to choose to show up for every moment. Every terrible, heart-aching, mind-racing, numb, painful, confusing, beautiful, chaotic, curious moment.

Who knows? Tomorrow I may win the lottery (which would be particularly amazing because I don’t play). I may find the home of our dreams. My husband might call me and apologize and ask me to go to marriage counseling. Tomorrow I might help someone who needs it.

I’ll never know unless I make it to tomorrow. And show up for it. Because if I use today, I don’t get to choose tomorrow. My addiction starts to make that choice for me.

Spoiler alert my addiction isn’t very good at making choices. I’d wager to say it’s worse at making choices than I am.

In this moment I’m feeling sorry for myself. My heart hurts, my brain hurts, my body hurts. My soul hurts.

And that’s okay, because I have to allow myself to feel these feelings or else they’ll sucker punch me in the gut and knock me out when I’m least prepared. So in this moment, I’ll let myself feel sorry. Hurt. Tired. Sad. Angry. Resentful.

But only in this moment. Because I still have to show up for the rest of my life. And the rest of my life will not be defined by this season.

So I’ll cry. I’ll yell. I’ll blog. And I’ll pray. And then I’ll move on. I’ll plan. I’ll process. I’ll navigate. Toward better things. Because that’s life.

And when it comes down to it, I’m excited to see how this season ends. I bet it’ll be great.

Celebrating an Anniversary?

Check out our custom recovery gifts

Stay Connected

Follow Us On: FacebookInstagramTwitter Or, join our Facebook Support Group

Leave a Reply