What is left

In my last post, I mentioned our trip to the coast and eating at my favorite restaurant. We also spent a morning at the beach; my happy place. I was delighted to try my new passion, nature photography, in the sand and surf. The experience did not disappoint, and I captured many creatures: big, small, feathered and smooth. I especially enjoyed this interaction between a seagull and snowy egret.

I came away from the morning filled with a quiet joy about the images I got to take with me to share for years to come. Pieces of places and points in time that will form vivid vignettes to look back on. Maybe it will be my children and their children someday, looking at the same bird in flight or shy seal that I was fortunate enough to capture and save. Sharing moments, connected by pictures.

In the same way, I am inspired to share my story; strands of words woven together in a meaningful way so that others can see and feel the common thread. To show that this happened to me and instead of breaking me to pieces, faith and light and love reinforced my scars. To reach out to those who read my thoughts and find versions of themselves so they may feel seen and affirmed. Sharing experiences, connected by words.

Before I could share my story and capture what is beautiful in life, I had to stop existing and start living. I did not care about the world around or inside of me when drinking defined my days: wishing I hadn’t, wishing I could, wishing there were more, wishing I could stop. My view was narrowed and short-sided. My words trailed off or evaporated into a foggy mist. I didn’t care about catching the light that illuminated the feathers of a snowy egret or connecting with another struggling soul. What I continued to swallow was swallowing my life.

And now, nearly three years into my journey of sobriety and wellness and living well, I care about what is left. What is left of this life and what I can leave behind. What I can leave for others to witness and understand about me and the kind of person I became. To understand the full picture. To see that to know me is to first know the darkness that brought me to the light. I needed the void, the absence, to appreciate the living and the presence.

Filled with the peace and joy that creative expression brings, I am not afraid about what is left behind. I hope that my loved ones and friends (both in person and online) are able to appreciate the things I saw and the words I wrote. That they see my pictures and my posts as a gift that I fought to give by first going through the struggle claim it. I know now that what I leave behind will be beautiful and meaningful. It’s the whole story, rather than an unformed darkness cut short by my fall. And I’m so grateful for the opportunity to get up, dust myself off and share with you, my story.