The Road Home

When someone retells their story about having made it through difficulty--whether disease, addiction or a trip to Target with tired two year olds--you usually hear about the beginning and the end.  Rarely do you hear about the painful part known as the middle.  The fits and starts.  Gaining traction and then losing it in half the time it took to gain.

I've been on my road to recovery for just over two years.  Reopening deep wounds and allowing them to get fresh air in hopes that over time they heal.  

Painful memories rise to the surface every day, not just the hour that I sit with my therapist on Thursdays.  

I've learned not to fight them, but instead to let them come, feel the mixed emotions that they bring--anger, sadness, pain, gratitude and disbelief.  And then I finish writing my grocery list or walking Fisher or backing my car out of the garage to get to work on time.

Life goes on.

The last couple of weeks have been difficult.  I've waded into another area of my life that I've been holding off on exploring.  I am finally ready to deal with it now ... but it is exhausting.  I take a nap when I get home from work and still go to bed at 9:30.  I'm much stronger than I was two years ago and have more tools now to support myself through this.  I know a bit more about what to expect.

But it's still hard.

And frankly, I'm kind of tired of things being hard. 

This weekend was beautiful.  So this morning I decided to just go and get lost.  I drove out into the Willamette Valley.

I turned down country roads.

Past orchards.

My windows were down and the acoustic set my favorite radio station plays every Sunday morning was on in the background.

I drove past bikers and runners.  Horses and their foals.  U-Pick farms just waiting to open.  And vineyards selling wine that is made sweeter on years when the grapes are most stressed.

SSG is hoping the same can be said for her.