Do you remember being full of hope and new promise of untouched ideas and unexplored dreams before the chaos of addiction was crouching at your door? Remember what it was like to look ahead and see yourself doing something you thought would change the world or at least change your life?
Gosh, it was so long ago when I used to imagine myself either performing, teaching or nursing. But when life didn't head in that direction, I began to put those dreams into boxes near my chair so I could pull them back out when I was ready. Then the boxes were in the way and after hurting myself tripping over them, they were placed up high on a shelf that didn't come down and remained unopened. Finally, those boxes were tossed away when changes came along and those dreams seemed untouchable or foolish for one like me.
When Cliff was in full blown addiction, I began to see myself through a narrower eyeglass and only examined his life through the telescopic lens, because you know, he was my son. My problem, my rescue and my responsibility. I was so exhausted trying to save Cliff, I had no time or desire to change my own life. I thought it was selfish to think about me because, after all, who would help my poor baby?? As if he were my infant child, I would cry out at night "He's hungry, he's alone, he's cold, he's fearful." Is he going to survive another night on the street? But the fact was "He's 18, he's 21, he's 25" and those concerns kept overriding all sensible thinking.
When I was created, like all of us, I was planted with a future and a hope. Dreams, visions and ideas were indelibly planted in my marrow by my Creator. He gave you some of your own, too. But, when the chaos of addiction became my partner in every breath I took, the enemy of my soul kept telling me that nothing would change. That the dreams and visions I had for myself were a thing of the past and foolish, let alone the dreams I had for my children. Those were stomped out and gone. The only dream I could see was burying Cliff from an overdose, which by the grace of God didn't happen. Wow, the time I spent lost in the lies added up to years.
But guess what? When my own recovery from codependency finally took root, I learned that I was powerless over this thing and certainly powerless over my sons lives and therefore, better look closely at my own. I discovered that some of my character traits aren't very nice and are requiring change, even at 61. But, they don't change the dreams and goals planted by my Creator and are still here. He never took them away from me in spite of my belief that they were long gone. The time didn't expire on the gifts He also gave me. The boxes of dreams suddenly re-appeared in my grasp. The lids are lifting up again and soon, the plans re-awakened in my thinking.
Some of the things God planted in me, I do without thought because I love the life He's given me and am so thankful that today I can walk in confidence that I will still have opportunities to live out my dream. Writing happens to be one of them. Other dreams and character behaviors are still being shaped, even at 61. Yay!
And in those dreams that are taking shape, I see both of my sons becoming the men that God created them to be, without their mommy's direction. They are men. They are responsible. They are loved by the same Creator and were born with a future and a hope, too. Your addict and your alcoholic were created in just the same way. Have hope!
Not nobody, not no how is going to steal my dreams and blessings again. They may not look like the vision I had at 18, 25, or 40, but they are exactly as they should be right now.
Hold on Tight To Your Dreams
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