Acceptance

Lord,

grant me the serenity 

to accept the things I cannot change,

courage 

to change the things I can

and wisdom 

to know the difference.

Living one day at a time; Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace.

Taking, as He did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it.
Trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His will.

That I may be reasonably happy in this life,

And supremely happy with Him forever in the next.

This prayer has become very helpful to me.  Even though I am not an alcoholic or drug addict, the meaning of this prayer helps me get through the day.  When something happens that gets me angry or worked up, I recite the first three lines in my head.  It has become important for me to understand, accept the things that are out of my control, and to focus on the things that I can change for myself, to better myself towards the goals that will make me happier.  

Even though it has been hard for me to keep my composure, it is a work in progress.  I just need to remind myself to take deep breaths, and accept things that I cannot change, because no matter how frustrated I am, the things that happen are still going to happen, with or without me.

I know this is kind of a short blog, but for me, it is an important one. 

Fear

I'm not sure how I came to learn to fear people who had been drinking.  Maybe it was that trip away, when I was six, where my mother had half a glass of wine, and her screeching laughter sounded like an evil witch.  Perhaps it was that particular night, many, many years ago, when my father was so drunk, my mother told me to push my bed against my bedroom door to sleep at night, because my door did not lock.  Maybe it was all the roaring arguments I'd hear late at night, because my father had worked his way into a bottle of vodka. Or could it be something that I witnessed when I was so young, that I couldn't even recall?

For as long as I remember, I have disliked, been impatient with, or have been just plain annoyed with people, espeically men, who would even have one beer.  I've always known that I didn't like it when people close to me drank.  But I never really knew why.  I'd always try to rationalize, that I dont like the smell or the taste, or, my latest rationalization, I don't know if they're sober enough to comprehend or remember what I say to them.  But it wasn't till very recently, that I felt something deeper within me.  Fear.

While alone in the house, late at night, with no one but my father, who had begun drinking since 4pm, and my dog, Charlie, who is as gentle as a labrador could be, I decided it was time for bed.  I heard dad's footsteps stomp up the stairs, and then some noises that sounded like screaming.  I wondered if maybe he was on the phone, either laughing to his mistress, or yelling at my mother.  I cracked my door open so I could better make out the words he was slurring.  He was taunting Charlie, in a way a highschool bully would a kid whose head was being shoved into a toilet bowl.  That was when I felt it.  I feared for Charlie's life.  I knew that if my mother was home, if dad tried to do anything, she would stop him.  But I was too scared to go up there.  I was too scared to confront him while he was drunk.  I feared for my life, too.

I came to realise that the father I once trusted so completely, I no longer did.  He gave me fear.  Fear for my life, fear for my mother's, and fear for my animals'.