Making Room

Here is a miracle y'all: I am ten months sober today. From the day I got sober I could have grown a tiny delicate bunch of cells into a fat little ready for the world baby. That's kind of what it feels like I've done- created the miracle of a new life.

Phew.

Miracle. I love that word. It's so big, and possible. And it implies people got saved, and it was good.

When I was drinking I was full of spirits, but not full of spirit. I had a lot of prayer but it was mostly about helping me get away from booze and also about get me through this day please. Then I said the same prayers when I got sober. A lot.

I've been thinking about being spiritual. And being OK with it. As in, not embarrassed.

I've been thinking that I'm ready to pray about other stuff besides keep me sober. That I'm ready.

I believe in the universe, in nature, and that things happen for a reason. I believe that there are things and forces and energies out there fluxing and flowing making it all go. I believe if you pray and put intentions and dreams out into the universe or to your big superpower person that these forces conspire to make wishes come true if they're meant to be. I believe the universe works with you, not against you- even when you don't get what you think you want. I believe that if you are honest with yourself something backs you up. I know that when I finally soul deep down meant it when I begged to be sober it worked. I mean, something clicked.

My mother will laugh in your face if you tell her you believe in God. She finds religion, spirituality, and faith a big fat waste of time that could be better spent watching "Project Runway". I was always told that if I wanted some of God's love that was fine, but I knew secretly she would think I was stupid for even trying. After the childhood she had I know why. If I had been a little girl in her house, with her parents, I would not believe God or any other savior existed either.

There are so many lines in spirituality. There are my mother's lines, and your lines. There are the lines of those people who just look so beatific that you almost feel embarrassed that you aren't so overtaken. There are the lines that make people sinners and hell bound. There are my lines: how I want to believe in a greater force, and I do, but only in a half-hearted way that never gets anybody anywhere.

We talked about religion and spirituality in my therapy group last week. That they are not the same thing. One of the women who is Catholic spoke about the ceremony of religion and spirituality, how that gets her through hard times like death of loved ones and also what to make for dinner Tuesday night. How there is always someone there for you, whenever you need them. I want some ceremony. I want a backer. I want it for me, for my children. For my spirit.

But church can be hard to swallow. And hard to get to. And believing can seem like something for people who can't take care of themselves. So needy. So weak. And we already have to get dressed to go somewhere on at least five other days.

I drank for over twenty years searching for some salvation. Then I got sober. Now I eat too many cookies when maybe what I really need to do is pray. Maybe what I really need is some kind of spiritual connection. Some ceremony. Some believing. A way to cleanse and fill my spirit with the light and goodness that is all around and in me. Some relief. The balance we all naturally get from the universe because we be.

There is part of me that knows that I have to open my heart to the love in offering. That there is this "thing" that wants to envelop me. That because I am sober I can be not afraid to be loved, or to love back. Since I'm not drowning in a well of booze and self loathing I can actually feel the warm approval that was there all along. All along.

So maybe it really doesn't have to have a name, or a God. I can, right here, right now, embrace my spirit. I can believe because I want to. I can say it out loud, "I believe". And that doesn't mean I have to get myself to church, or that I'm going to try to convince you. It means I need something to believe in, and now here's room to open the door. :)