The Greatest Gift

 When I look back at the woman who first walked into recovery thirty years ago, I barely recognize her.

So much has changed.

Some of those changes fill me with gratitude. Others carry a touch of sadness. Parts of me have been lost along the way, and sometimes I miss who I used to be.

The early years of recovery were not easy.

I walked beside my daughter through her illness. I buried her. Later, I lost my brother, my husband, and eventually my mother.

Grief became a familiar companion.

Yet alongside the losses, something else was happening.

I was changing.

With the help of recovery and therapy, I began untangling old patterns. I learned healthier ways of living, loving, and relating. Some people welcomed those changes. Others drifted away.

Recovery gave me  a new life back, but it also cost me some relationships.

Still, there was so much joy.

There was Jack—my soulmate, my companion through so much of life’s journey.

There was creativity, laughter, friendship, and the simple pleasure of making beautiful things with my hands.

And slowly, over time, something I never thought possible happened.

I learned to love myself.

Not perfectly.

Not all at once.

But enough to look in the mirror and say,

“I love you.”

Those years held some of the deepest sorrows of my life and some of the greatest joys.

And when I look back now, I see that recovery gave me many gifts.

But perhaps the greatest gift was this:

I found God and I found myself.