Perfect is NOT a Word that Should Exist in Recovery
Perfect looks. Perfect home. Perfect relationship. Perfect life. None of that exists in recovery. None of that exists in life. So, why do I keep striving for the intangible? It is like I set myself up for failure and then wig out because I'm not achieving something that is impossible. Yeah, I just said wig out. 80's throw back, y'all. Perfection is bullshit.
This realization recently changed my life in recovery. I stopped drinking, but I still held embarrassment. The regrets. The guilt. The sadness and grief. The heart-stopping fear when I owned up to "a drinking problem." EVERYONE KNOWS! Oh. The. Horror. I have to admit I'm IMPERFECT. Woe is me. Sobs. Cries. Scrolls through Facebook and comments on everyone else's "perfect" life. Why the hell is imperfection so hard to show people? At 15 months sober, I'm not embarrassed or hanging onto the fact that I am flawed anymore. Punishing myself for being imperfect was totally mental.
People that appear to have perfect lives don't. I am not going to go on Facebook and criticize perfect looking posts with, "You're a poser." That is just rude. Internet trolling is not sober me's job anymore. I don't think it was drunk me's job either, but she took it damn-seriously. Drink. Internet argue. Repeat. Reality will slap you in the face and call you its bitch if you refuse to acknowledge it. I got a righteous slap.
On the best we could hope for...
Equally as depressing is acknowledging something as "the best I could hope for." That sounds depressing, too. There has to be something amazing in this life for it to be worth my while. Outside stimulus will always be there, of course. Work. Family. Politics. Sickness. Strife. I can't control that. I can control my reaction to circumstances and whether it stops me dead in my tracks. I keep striving. I write down goals and go after them with crazy eyes. I don't get my panties in a wad or settle for a lackluster life.
Despite reality's circumstances, I am fulfilled at 15 months sober. I am constantly experiencing failure and success. Life is perfect. Wait. Damn it. Life is not perfect. Life is full. I'm always growing and that is better than perfect. I call it teetotally awesome. Call it anything you want, but remember PERFECT doesn't exist. Sometimes life is just plain grody to the max. I still have a radical bruise from where reality slapped me. But, I'm stoked for what comes next. Sober life is schweet. Duh.