It is Possible.

I get jazzed about possibilities. My favorite days are Mondays. My favorite holiday is New Year’s Eve. It’s all that possibility hovering around. It makes the air charged with excitement–like holding a sparkler a little too close on the 4th of July.

For years all I had was possibility. I wasn’t doing anything. Well, nothing productive, at least. I read only what could be contained on my computer screen (this was before blogs were popular, before online reading could sustain a person’s intellect in any real way). I only wrote self-pity fueled musings about my own suffering (most of which was self-made, all of which was surmountable). I spent most of my time “hanging out”–which meant I was drinking on someone’s porch, drinking in a bar, drinking at home. Always drinking. Always talking. Not really doing.

When I quit drinking, I had nothing but time. The possibilities almost crushed me. Turns out, early sobriety made me fear possibility. Possibility made it entirely possible to fail. When I first got sober, it was hard for me to understand anything, really. But it was impossible for me to get that I had to put myself out there, if I wanted to really live. I was a champion at existing. Living… not so much. Living requires risk. And imperfection. And mess. Living is scary. And beautiful.

Risks still frightens me. I am cautious by nature. I weigh the options. I examine possible outcomes. I want to know how its going to turn out before it even begins. I was the kid who read the last few pages of a novel before I was even halfway through, because I couldn’t handle the uncertainty of the ending.

But I believe there is a part of me, hidden way deep down under the control freak, who loves risk. It’s the part of me that loves possibilities. It’s also the part of me that is going to have to believe myself & my Higher Power if I am going to make things happen.

2015 is the year of possibility for me. I am open. I am willing. I am writing.

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