You know those days when you wake up and the great from the sun warms your soul?

Today wasn't that day.

Today I woke up and choked back tears, again,

Today was about convincing myself that my roommate would believe everything is just, fine.

I'm in recovery, and not every day feels like my soul has been kissed by angels.

Some days you just can't catch a break,

Like swimming to a shore that swims away from you,

It's a type of recovery that takes everything I have too.

It's not just about a substance, I've got an injured spirit.

My body wants to shut down most days, my mind screams at my nerves as my parents screamed at me to clean my room,

Both the nerves and I responded the same way, just so nothing. They'll stop asking.

My body is all my family trauma with my life experiences all stuffed into a lumpy shell of a human

Complete with sad eyes and scares on every finger.

This is what recovery looks like. It's not pretty, it's not easy, and it doesn't always feel worth it

I wish I could just smoke a joint, have a beer, or for ***** sake just lift my foot again.

So when I wake up I remind myself that this is recovery, and it's not always pretty. We just keep walking