2020 - accepting the good, the bad, and the ugly

 As I sit down to write this post today, my dog is at my side, cuddled up to me, in utter doggie contentment. I think to myself how I can relate to that feeling of being right where I most want to be, doing exactly what I most want to do. It is from that place of fullness that I write about 2020: a year that, for many, has been a horrific disaster from start to finish. 

There is no doubt that historically, the world has changed significantly in the last 12 months. Politics, pandemics, persecution, protests, posturing, and petulance have marked our Western society throughout the year. Many worldwide have felt hopeless, harassed, even hunted. And as we come to the close of it, there are some sparks of hope that the disease which has intensified our societal problems may have an end in sight. However, it does not mean that there are not still problems. 

There has been much to be sad about this year. People have died, either through illness or ignorance. But in the midst of it all, there have also been signs of life, light, laughter, and love.

For me, 2020 has been a time of great sorrow and of great joy. The great sorrow came in February when my brother passed away suddenly after having succumbed to an infection that left him too weak to get to a phone. Feeling empty and alone, I turned my attention to adopting a puppy, who quickly filled our home and my life with laughter, love, and life as he explored and learned each new thing. We got him in the early stages of the pandemic, before we got the hang of this whole social distancing thing. Fortunately, nobody was ill and we were even able to tend to his vaccinations and his neutering as time went on. 

In September, I began a new chapter for me as I started the long-awaited practicum placement that my university requires for me to get my Masters in Counselling Psychology. What I didn't foresee was how wonderfully fulfilling it was (and is) to be there and be present for each of my charges, to listen to them and to watch them grow in themselves and their relationships with themselves, others, and sometimes with God. There have been challenges of course, but I am doing something that I love doing. 

So for me, all told, 2020 hasn't been so bad. Sure, it sucks to not be able to see my friends and family as often, but I have my little family here, which includes a couple of other people in our bubble (the "kith" of kith and kin), and of course the animals. I get to do a lot of things that make me happy, and my stress levels are vastly reduced from a year ago. I guess it has to do with that all-important little word called acceptance. 

Photo "Sun Ray Behind Dark Cloud"
courtesy of Sura Nualpradid at
freedigitalphotos.net

When I accept the things that come my way and don't wish them gone or hurried up, when I receive them and enjoy whatever moments of goodness they bring to me, it is then that I can live in peace. These are lessons I'm learning in this new phase of my life - lessons like living in the now, doing what I can and letting go of what I can't, and making time to laugh and enjoy living without fretting about the future or regretting the past. Too long I have lived with those thieves of joy. It's time to step up, to move ahead, and to enrich my every day by seeing and believing the best, even if things seem bad or ugly. The truth is, there is always some good to be found if you look for it. If you look for bad things, you'll find them. So I choose to look for good things, and let the bad ones go. 

Onward to 2021 - a new year, a new decade. I'm grateful. If our paths cross and we walk together, be that virtually or in person, I hope we part ways encouraged and strengthened. 

The Love-lens

Most people, when they think of addicts, think of things like alcohol, drugs, even gambling or sex. But really, someone can be addicted to anything: fitness workouts, a super-clean house, adrenaline (extreme sports for example), TV shows, ... and the list goes on and on. I was thinking about this earlier today and wondered if anyone had considered an addiction that is quite common in humans: the obsession with tragedy, closely related to the need to gossip about or find out about the sordid little details of someone's life (specifically about their tragedies). 

Some folks, I find, like nothing better than to get their own dander up by seeking out horrific things and then passing them along. Somehow this seems to give them the moral high ground to be the first one to alert their friends to these things. A tragic car accident, a shooting, an earthquake, a fire - these are all juicy fodder for discussion, especially if they have photos to go with it. 

I've never seen the attraction in it. To me, there is enough bad in the world without sussing out every last little detail and glorifying it by speculating on what was involved (was there alcohol or drugs involved in the car crash, for example) and further traumatizing the victims or their families. 

Photo by Marek from Pexels

What I and many others prefer to do is to focus instead on the good. It's a shift of perspective, putting on a different lens, so to speak. It's changing from the gloom-and-doom focus to one of hope and love. Shifting to a love-lens allows people to see the humanity of someone else, allows them to look at what is right rather than what is wrong, and shifts the response to bad things from "Isn't that awful? / They must be horrible people" to "What can I do to help?" (Yes, that's a link there in bold - it goes to a video that you can watch in another tab or window.)

The love-lens allows me to focus on showing compassion instead of judging, offering acceptance instead of prejudice, and being kind instead of impatient or cross with people. 

The simple thought process of the love-lens means that when I get delayed in traffic because of someone hesitating at the traffic light, instead of giving in to the temptation to be annoyed or angry, I think of all the distractions in their life, or that maybe they need that delay because it might save them from having an accident a few miles away. A love-lens looks at the old man wandering on the street, staggering, as someone who may be experiencing a reaction to medication, rather than automatically labelling him a drunk and moving away from him. It sees the child misbehaving in a store as a kid who has been overstimulated and is tired of being around too many people, rather than a bratty kid whose parent cannot control him.  It sees the parent as being in an embarrassing situation and needing a helping hand rather than a disappointed glare.

Do you see what I mean? Cultivating that love-lens takes time - but the more you use it, the easier it is to use the next time, and the next. I'm not saying I use it all the time (although I would like to!) but whenever I do, it has helped me treat people with respect, be more patient with people's mistakes, and generally put myself in others' shoes before I make snap judgments.

If you haven't already done so, click the link I put in bold, above, and watch the video. It says things in a much better way than I could. 

A Safe Place to Be

Recently, I marked four years in recovery. The day came and went, and all day that day I thought about how my life had changed in those four years. 

Tonight, I sat in a recovery room among friends - one where I hadn't been for far too long. When I walked in, I recognized a couple of people, and their faces (and mine) lit up when we saw each other. A grin, a wave, and a feeling of being loved, of those that were there being glad that I was there. I had not attended this group last week because of last-minute things, and had promised then that I would be at this Tuesday's meeting. 

And, even though there was another event that came up - I kept my promise to go and celebrate my recovery - to surprise those who were in attendance (only one other person was in the know) by accepting my four-year medallion. Amid the spontaneous applause and the hugs and handshakes came a feeling of true friendship, true fellowship.

Belonging.

The outpouring of love and happiness was palpable. These people had seen me at my worst. They'd seen me through some tough times, and they'd watched me grow. Now they were here around me to offer their congratulations and support for this new lifestyle I was living, a lifestyle that many of my former acquaintances - and even some family members - were less than thrilled about.  

My eyes brimmed up with gratitude. 

"Happy Family" courtesy of
photostock at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

I stayed while the discussion opened up and folks talked about one thing and another, encouraging growth by sharing their experience, strength, and hope with each other. There's nothing complicated about it. A recovery group - if if follows the principles of the 12 steps - is a safe place to be. You are free to really be yourself, to have fears, doubts, and triumphs: there is no judgment, there is no advice, and there are no agendas. Just acceptance. 

After I left the meeting room, I had another meeting to go to for a drama our church is putting on.  This one took place in a totally different atmosphere, but again, when I walked through the door, I was recognized by several in attendance; the nods and smiles, the waves and even a few hugs - as the meeting progressed - gave me that same sense of being loved, valued. The atmosphere (as I mentioned) was far more busy because everyone was milling around trying to find out what their role was going to be, but I felt like I was part of the group, not apart from it. 

That sense of belonging, of acceptance, was worth a great deal to me. It still is.

The theme song from a popular sitcom years ago is running through my head right now and has been ever since those two experiences. The last line of the theme song goes, "You wanna go where people know that people are all the same; you wanna go where everybody knows your name." (Where everybody knows your name - Cheers) 

That safe place to be ... is priceless. Everyone needs it; not everyone finds it. 

There may be folks who might take that for granted because - well, I don't know - because they're outgoing and because the social thing is easy for them. It's quite another for someone like me (introverted, socially awkward) to find such a place of safety. To find it in more than one place - well, that's unheard of. 

One might even consider it a miracle.  This "one" sure does.