When I came into recovery, I began to sleep. Honest sleep. Dreamful sleep. Sleep that rests and restores. Alcoholism ruins many things, things we didn’t think were affected. An alcoholic has not slept a good sleep since the onset of his sickness.
Body has something to do with this. But there is also mind. A kind of serene quietude steps in and affects us, just as the alcoholism did, in all sorts of ways we don’t know are affected. I have become a dreamer, and I have learned to sleep.
We are taught to let go of outcome, and focus instead on effort. When we do this, we’re subconsciously letting go much of the (futile) process of worry. Of regret. Of woulds, and ought tos, and what ifs.
I have learned steadiness. Learned to do what I can. This seems simplistic. It seems so simplistic its downright offensive. I did what I could, always.
Maybe, as a sick alcoholic, I did. I did the best I could. But it wasn’t much.
The best I can, now, is ever so much more efficacious.
Steadiness and honor are linked, I think. Calm, and character. I have to try. If I try, I sleep well at night. If I don’t, I become failure. I have to try, but I don’t have to succeed. Character, or right, has nothing to do with success as the world sees success.