Yesterday was such a difficult day. But here it is, morning again somehow. I've gotten through another 24 hours, and without a drug. I wish I'd known yesterday that things wouldn't feel so bad this morning.
Yesterday, we did the best that we could. Yesterday is over. We have slept. We think we know some of what today will hold. We may boil water in the same kitchen, take the same route to work, see some of the faces we usually see. At the meeting we attend, we'll hear the familiar readings; take comfort from hearing the words we've heard before. Perhaps our shoulders, hunched with any tensions we're experiencing, will drop at the sound
of those accustomed words, and we'll relax.
Along with the predictable, there may be a thousand unexpected experiences; a new color in the sky, a smile
answering our own, a phrase of music, a sense of willingness rising within us to do something differently.
Let's take some deep, slow breaths and begin the day with faith that whatever it brings, we'll be present for
This day is a gift that recovery has given to me.
You are reading from the book:
If You Want What We Have by Joan