Post 35 - I Get to Walk Through This Clean

It feels so good to find time to write again.

I was in California for my identical twin sister Cyndi’s wedding, and let me tell you, we were busy. But her wedding was absolutely beautiful.

For years, I think a part of me believed it was my job to protect her. The connection between identical twin sisters is unlike anything I can explain. She is a piece of me.

But watching her marry Daniel gave me a sense of peace I didn’t expect. I know he will protect her. I know he will love her the way she deserves to be loved.

And then there was my dad.

Watching my dad push through his pain to show up for my sister was something I will never forget.

Let me tell you about my dad.

There is a picture of me from when I was maybe nine or ten years old that I have treasured my entire life.

For Father’s Day, my mom bought me a baseball hat to give him. It said, “My heart belongs to Daddy.”

We were camping at Thousand Trails with my grandparents. I remember walking out in this pink bathing suit covered in little black hearts, wearing my dad’s baseball hat before I gave it to him.

My grandma took a picture.

At the time, it was just a picture.

Today, it means so much more.

Because that little girl had no idea how true those words on that hat would become.

My heart really did belong to my daddy.

Through my addiction, I lost a lot of my childhood memories. There are pieces of my life I simply don’t remember. But I remember that.

And what I couldn't have understood at nine years old was that God had given me an incredible man to be my dad.

My dad has been the one person throughout my life that I could always count on to be there.

He was there through some of the ugliest parts of my addiction.

He was there when I lied.

He was there when I hurt him.

He was there when I made choices he didn't understand.

And he was still there for some of the most beautiful moments of my life, including the day I married Bill.

My dad taught me what unconditional love looks like.

But recovery has also taught me how to look honestly at the damage my addiction caused.

During my teenage years, when my addiction was beginning, my dad spent so much time trying to save me that, in some ways, my sisters lost pieces of him too.

They needed their dad.

But I was always in crisis.

At the time, I couldn't see that.

Addiction is cunning, baffling, and incredibly selfish. It doesn't just take from the addict. It takes from everyone who loves us.

That is one of those truths I can see today because I am clean.

So watching my dad show up for Cyndi on her wedding day meant more to me than I can put into words.

The day before the wedding, my dad's doctor placed him on hospice.

His cancer has gotten worse.

Those words crushed all of us.

Hospice.

You hear that word and suddenly everything feels different.

But if you know my family, you know what happened next.

We came together.

Because there was a wedding to celebrate.

There was love to celebrate.

There was Cyndi and Daniel to celebrate.

And we were going to make sure their day was beautiful.

Plans changed.

Instead of my dad walking Cyndi down the aisle, he became the flower man. He sat in his wheelchair while my brother Rob pushed him down the aisle.

My sisters Cathy and Cari followed.

Then my mom walked Cyndi down the aisle to give her away.

I was already standing at the front as one of her bridesmaids, bawling my eyes out.

Because as I watched her walk toward us, I realized something.

It wasn't just my mom giving my sister away.

Our whole family was.

And it was one of the most beautiful things I have ever witnessed.

Cyndi looked absolutely stunning.

And I'm not just saying that because we're identical twins. 😂

So why am I telling you all of this?

Because these past few weeks have been filled with so much joy and so much sadness at the exact same time.

And through all of it, I got to show up clean.

I got to have coffee with my mom and dad every morning.

I got to sit with my dad and just be with him.

I got to help my mom with whatever she needed. Cleaning. Weeding. Crying. Laughing.

I got to be present when hospice came and talked with us as a family.

I got to show up for my sister on one of the biggest days of her life.

And now, whatever comes next, I get to walk through it with my family.

Clean.

That word means something different to me right now.

Because eventually, every one of us in recovery is going to face something that breaks our heart into a million pieces.

Recovery does not promise us a life without pain.

People we love will get sick.

Relationships will change.

People will die.

We will experience grief.

We will have moments when life hurts so badly that we don't know what to do with the pain.

The question is:

How do we want to show up for those moments?

Loaded?

Or clean?

I am choosing clean.

I won't pretend I'm not scared.

I won't pretend this doesn't hurt.

I haven't had to walk through this kind of pain before in my recovery.

But I know I am going to walk through it clean.

If I struggle, I have women in recovery I can call.

I have my husband beside me.

I have a family that knows how to show up for one another.

And most importantly, I have God.

The same God who carried me out of active addiction.

The same God who carried me through the last thirteen years.

The same God who gave that little girl in the pink bathing suit a daddy who would love her through some of the darkest years of her life.

I believe He will carry me through this too.

Clean.

That is what recovery has given me.

It hasn't given me a life where nothing bad happens.

It has given me the ability to be present when life happens.

To love people while they're here.

To sit beside them when there are no words.

To cry without running from the pain.

To laugh without feeling guilty for laughing.

To hold my family's hands through whatever comes next.

And to wake up the next morning and make the same decision I have made every day for more than thirteen years:

Today, I choose recovery.

I don't know how much I will write in the coming weeks. There may be days when my family needs all of me, and that's where I will be.

But when I can, I want to bring you along on this part of my journey too.

Because I have spent years writing about how recovery helped me rebuild my life.

Now I want to show you something else.

How we walk through the moments that break our hearts without going back to the thing that once destroyed us.

One day at a time.

One prayer at a time.

And for me, with God beside me.

Clean.

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