The ability to maintain abstinence through the struggle of homelessness, the pain of emotional relapse, and the fear of financial insecurity are evidence to me of a power greater than myself.~ Voices of Recovery (Kindle Locations 2822-2823).

What a powerful testament! Would that I could say
I’ve persevered through all of this, that I survived turmoil,
deprivation, living on the edge of sanity. But why?
Why is there a hint of jealousy for those who can say
they’ve overcome such odds? Is it that my life seems to be
the plot of a boring novel? That I’ve missed out on life?
How could that be? I’ve lived. I’ve done, I’ve been, I’ve thrived.
Could it be I want you to pity me, that I can accept that
more easily than I can your respect, your envy,
your admiration? I’m powerless. Over food but over other things
like relationships, remembering names, addiction to stupid games,
procrastination, dishonesty… My life is unmanageable
not like the homeless, not like the impoverished,
not like the ordinary definition of insanity, but insane I am.
And insane I remain until I admit all this and realize there’s a Power
who can make me sane so instead of a touch of jealousy
for the underprivileged, I can use the assets I’ve received
in service to that Power.