Acceptance Gave Me Peace

This is how it seemed to me: I went to work one day and had some back pain. I had back pain before and wasn’t too worried about it. The next day, it was a bit worse. I still went to work. The third day, I asked to work from home. It was too painful to sit. I had a doctor’s appointment later that afternoon for an unrelated matter. I stood in the waiting room while everyone else sat comfortably. On day four, I could no longer sit or stand still, but I could walk and lay down. I went to my general practitioner, got a prescription, and was told to rest. I worked from home again that day. The fifth day, I rested—I had no choice. I could no longer walk, stand, or sit without excruciating pain. Each trip to the bathroom was a horror.

To me, life changed dramatically in five days. There was a firm line in my life. Before I crossed that line, I traveled by rail, storm chased, volunteered building trails in our national parks, went cave crawling, and cycled. I loved to walk. I did stand-up comedy, performed in improvisational theater, and wrote sketch comedy. I took care of the house and the cars. I carried heavy litter boxes upstairs, vacuumed the house, and loved to cook. I mowed the lawn and shoveled the snow. I saw all the Oscar-nominated films the year they were nominated. I drove Route 66. I shopped for groceries. I volunteered as an emergency responder.

But after I crossed the line, on that fifth day, I rested. At first, I was not concerned. The doctors would fix it. It would take time, but they would fix it. They had always fixed me before. I didn’t realize how harmful that false belief would become as my journey progressed.

I could fill a lot of pages on how the doctors tried, and failed, to fix me. I couldn’t let go of the thought that my body was fixable. I remember the doctors telling me it wasn’t, more than once, but I could not believe it. The miracle of medicine could surely fix it. I just had to find the right solution, the right answer. (This makes me grin.)

In the interim, I wasn’t able to go to work. I feared losing my job, financial insecurity, boredom, and lack of purpose. I feared what would happen to my mother, whom I prided myself on caring for. What would happen to the house? I looked for help. The more doctors I met and listened to, the more frightened and worked up I became. Until, I suppose it’s reasonable to say, I just went loopy.

My body was broken, but I was also broken mentally and spiritually. I was angry and lashing out at people all around me. I thought folks were out to get me. I knew about the Steps. Steps had helped me put down the drink. “Fixed.” Steps helped me lose weight. “Fixed.” Steps helped me become a better worker. “Fixed.” Steps restored my sanity. “Fixed.” But how could the Steps “fix” my unfixable body? I searched the Internet. I knew someone, somewhere, must have applied Steps to a similar situation and “fixed” it. I would find them. They would help.

This is how I came to CPA—physically, mentally, and spiritually broken but still hopeful the Steps could “fix” me. (This also makes me grin.)

At my first meeting, I gave out my phone number. CPA folks called me. I was suffering, and they listened. Sometimes that’s all they did, and it was comforting. Sometimes they offered suggestions. It kept me coming back.

I began to listen at meetings. There was a “fix” for me. I knew it. I just hadn’t done it: the First Step. I had to admit I was powerless over pain and illness, that my life had become unmanageable.

It seemed simple enough. Yet every time something needed to be done for the home, or snow needed shoveling, or trees cut, I tried to do it, even though my body couldn’t. I would try different ways of doing things. I would buy gadgets. I would force my body to do as much as it could. And then I would suffer while my body tried to recover. Not just physically but emotionally, too.

I got a sponsor and began working the Steps in CPA. I was able to realize that my body didn’t break in five days. My body and my health had been failing for a long time. I had my first surgery when I was sixteen and eight more before the back failure that brought me to CPA. I had been in denial a long time.

Denial is a strong force. We’re not bad for being in denial. It’s all we have to rely on for a while. But there came a point for me where I couldn’t “fix” my body and denial couldn’t force it to work. I could no longer tolerate the pain physically or emotionally. Pushing, forcing, suffering, and beating myself up didn’t work anymore.

These two understandings—admitting I was powerless and awakening to my denial—brought me to a truth I had known for a long time. The universal “fix” for all things is acceptance. There is a church sign I used to pass by every day on my way to work that read, “If God is your copilot, switch seats.” I was in the wrong seat, and acceptance moved me to the right one.

What I know today is, acceptance ain’t always my strong point. Each time my body becomes unable to do something it was able to do the day before, acceptance is the answer, but it isn’t always my first answer. That’s OK. It’s not where I start the journey that matters, as long as it leads to acceptance.

It is true, in five days my life changed. But my life changes every day. Nothing stays the same. I can accept the changes or fight to keep things the same. Today, I have come to believe that if I’m fighting, I’m working too hard. Acceptance removes the struggle and gives me peace.

I thought if I accepted my pain and physical limitations, I would be miserable, poor, homeless, and have nothing to contribute. That has not happened. I have all I need. I am generally happy. Even on painful days, I often find moments to smile. I have enough resources to meet my needs and just a little more. I have a roof over my head.

I used to think I cared for my mom, but my condition has “rightsized” me. We take care of each other now. Our relationship is more symbiotic. My condition offers my mother purpose. It has enriched our relationship in ways I never imagined. Most importantly, I still have purpose. There is purpose in welcoming each new person into CPA. I have been blessed to be able to continue to work, with accommodation. I can still offer laughter to others.

Finally, my sponsor shared a tip to help me accept change in my life today. When I finish a sentence, I add “just for today.” So I may say, “I am in so much pain, just for today,” or “I’m so grateful to be able to move with less pain, just for today.” Everything changes and passes. The need to struggle, to force, to fight, to fear all diminish or completely dissipate when I remember that what is, is just for today. (That definitely makes me grin.)