Just Don’t Quit

JUST DON’T QUIT.  I cannot tell you how many times I have told myself this. I repeated that phrase to myself over and over while stopping drinking, ciggies, losing weight, graduating from school, painfully long runs (I am NOT a natural runner)… you get the point.  See the thing is, I really do not like to do things I do not succeed on my first attempt (shocking, I know).  My brain likes to tell me to stop doing something as soon as the going gets tough…and reaffirm my crazy thoughts that I am a failure and therefore not good enough.  Well guess what, I also like to prove people (and myself wrong).  This combination of characteristics has allowed me to fail, fail some more, fail again, but somehow keep on going.

I had a nice reminder today from Z that some days are going to be hard.  Shoot— why hadn’t I thought of that? And on top of that, it is ok to struggle.  Not everything is going to be easy, “This Too Shall Pass.” Gotta get through the struggle to reap the rewards.

At the same time, I really need to learn to be gentle with myself.  It is really hard to be perfect 100% of the time.  The absolute only thing I have managed to do is not drink for 9 years, one day at a time.  So in saying that, I have stayed up past my bed time, eaten lots of greasy General Tso’s, gotten B’s in school, lost track of time and turned in an assignment late, not gone to meetings, had my fair share of mental breakdowns, gained lost weight back, moved back home with my parents, broken up with boyfriends, ended friendships, and the list goes on and on and on.  Point being, the most important part for me is to tell myself, it is ok, this is just a little hiccup in the road and to keep on going…Just don’t quit…for good.  Prove to myself that I am not the failure my disease wants me to be.

Don’t quit before the miracle happens,



4 thoughts on “Just Don’t Quit

  1. I can so relate to “just don’t quit” for me what comes after that and what I have to hold on is “Just Do It”. My brain also likes to tell me to stop when things get tough, although in my case it’s not just “stop” it’s “run like hell”. My disease tells me to run as fast as I can and my recovery has been about not running, my mentality has come to a place where I often view things as “sink or swim”. I can’t just stop, I’m either moving forward or backward, and often I’m doing both at the same time just in different areas of my life.

    When it comes to the “swimming” i.e. “just don’t quit” I have to “just do it”. My disease tells me I’m a piece of shit, or as you more gracefully put it a “failure” and “not good enough” and that narrative has been pretty active recently. It’s actually become the main attraction at the three ring circus on tour in my head.

    “Learning to be gentle with myself” really hit home for me and my recovery right now too. I often forget/refuse to acknowledge that. It reminds me of a conversation I was having with someone in recovery over the weekend who said what they want for me is to have “self compassion”for myself, that it was important to my recovery. In my head I’m like” WTF is that? This is recovery here it’s all about action, not resting your laurels, and kicking some ass”. But I’m starting to wonder if as you said you “need to remember to be gentle with yourself” if that sometimes I’m kicking too much of my own ass and therefore ends up feeding my disease even more.

    For me right now “This too shall pass”, “not giving up before the miracle happens” makes me think of the part of the promises about “not shutting the door on the past”. I’m at a point in my recovery where not shutting the door on the past is really resonating. And I don’t like it and I don’t know what sick miracle could come from it, it makes me feel like I’m drowning, but I’m trying to just keep swimming. And you know I’m a good swimmer, but right now it seems like I can’t find the right stroke to fit the conditions, it’s dark, the water is cold, my bathing suit is disintegrating, and I can’t find the stars to guide me. But truth be told “not being able to find the stars to guide me” is just my disease, it’s similar to those rose colored glasses, except in my case I just don’t have my contacts in (probably because I can’t afford any) and I’m operating out of fear because I know that there will always be at least one star to guide me even if I can’t see it, even if I’m cold, feeling vulnerable, hating myself, grieving, or just in excruciating pain because I have faith in my higher power, so I’ll never be without at least one star to guide me, even though sometimes I’d prefer more than one. And that’s the gift of recovery, that I always get one. At the same time it doesn’t mean my head never goes crazy, I never fear the truth, am never seemingly unable able to accept the past and my experiences, what that might mean about me, and how that has shaped the person I have become. But I suppose I’ll keep that damn door open and reap what I’ve sown, and because of the promises I’m not going to run like my disease wants me to. Like you said THIS TO SHALL PASS.

    So I think I’ll just keeping swimming and hope for the sun to come out.

    -Little One

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks for sharing LO! I can relate oh so much. Recovery is not always blue skies and rainbows. Fortunately I have learned to know that blue skies ALWAYS follow the storms. It is so important to have faith and hope when you are in he middle is the storm. Just be Dorey, only staying in the immediate present and just keep swimming. If you keep putting one foot in front of the other, as you are, the past and future will work its self out! -C


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