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"It's okay. You are exactly where you are supposed to be."

Updated: May 22

My dear friend, Susan says this to me constantly.

“It’s okay. You are exactly where you are supposed to be” she reminds me in the most tender and loving way as we sit across from each other at her kitchen table with nothing between except our coffee cups and a few tears.

Like, every time I tell her about how unfair life is treating me. How I don’t understand why my life is upside down. When my head tells me that the world is doing things TO ME rather than for me. Quite frankly, when I am being reeeeally whiny

…and self-centered

…and focused on me

…and when I fall into victim-mode.

But, she doesn’t let me stay there for long. Just long enough to tell my sob story so that she can get an idea of where my head is at. Just long enough so that I can give her the full story so that the picture is fully painted about ME…and my pain…and my fear. Me, me, me!

At some point, I spill every last word and tear until I am empty. It is only then that she takes my hands in hers, looks in my sappy eyes, and says “It’s okay. You are exactly where you are supposed to be”.

Deeeeeep breath in.

Deeeeeep breath out.

And a little smile.

I am amazed at how sharing with another person in recovery can be so healing. Just putting the words {{ out there }} makes them seem a lot less heavy and frightening.

“It’s okay. You are exactly where you are supposed to be. There’s a reason you are where you are right now. You might not understand it, but someday, maybe today, maybe later, but God will reveal to you the reason for this happening for you. So just sit still and listen for His next direction. You’ll have to be patient and it might even hurt a little, but give Him time to work this out for you.”

Long siiiiiiiiigh…

There is a secret language that’s learned in recovery. A language of truth and sometimes brutal words of honesty that I don’t get anywhere else. There’s a language that I’ve learned in the rooms that allows me to take responsibility for myself and a vulnerability to allow others to see me for who I really am. Good and bad. Fearless and fearful. Strong and weak.

There’s a connection. A bond. A kinship between two people who share a common path of disease and recovery that only we understand.

It’s why the program of recovery works. Because when I share myself with another alcoholic, I let my guard down. I don’t have to hide. I open myself up to hearing things about myself which I may not like, but I need to hear because my blinders are on and I can’t see them for myself.

This connection is one of the miracles of recovery.

It’s the reason that I can walk into any room of Alcoholics Anonymous, literally anywhere in the world, and feel connected to and part of. I hear the voices of other alcoholics in those rooms and I silently scream “I GET YOU!” as they share.

Connection.

But, chances are when you walk into your first meeting, you might not understand this language. People talk about ego and character defects and rigorous honesty and making amends and, oh boy, even God.

Or, maybe you do get it! Maybe you hear the honesty and truth and think “I GET YOU!”. Lucky you and welcome! Either way, the bond that we share in recovery is just one of the gifts of this program. Keep coming back and you will, no doubt, find many, many others.

I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Susan is my sponsor. She has been for years now. She knows ALL of my secrets. My pains. My joys. My fears. My successes and my failures. She is someone I trust beyond measure and it is because of this level of vulnerability, honesty and, openness that she is able to see so clearly how to help me. I love her in a way that I’ve never loved another person before. I trust her love for me. The bond that we share is something that I’ve only come to know because of recovery. Because I am an alcoholic. Because I need a sponsor to walk alongside of me. Because I need someone to remind me that my feet are exactly where they are supposed to be.

She’s not a professional therapist. She doesn’t do this for a living. She doesn’t have all the answers to life’s problems nor does she pretend to. She’s just another alcoholic, like me. “Just another Bozo on the bus” as we teasingly say. She doesn’t have a magic potion or some kind of secret mind-reading skill. She’s an alcoholic, like me. That’s why she gets me. Because she’s been where I’ve been. She’s walked a journey very similar to mine and we share a common bond of recovery.

When she looks at me and tells me that I am right where I belong, I believe her. I trust her. Over our years together, we’ve walked many scary and also wonderful journeys together and her statement proves true over and over again…

I am right where I am supposed to be.

Right here. A sober woman. Right where I am supposed to be so that God can find me when He’s ready. When He’s ready for me to stop thinking about myself and be of service to someone else, usually, another alcoholic so that I can help them through the craziness of their life by passing on the words

“It’s okay. You are exactly where you are supposed to be.”

Yours in sobriety and service,

Maria ❤️



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