Recovering Inspirings: I Invest In Myself
Earlier this week, my kitchen flooded.
Worse, it flooded from a backed-up sink. (Apparently, one of my neighbors never got the memo about not pouring grease down your drain. Public service announcement: please don’t pour grease down your drain.) The result was my kitchen, immersed in water and in garbage. Coffee grounds, food from meals I hadn’t eaten, grime. It overwhelmed me. Worse: my brain quickly transformed the situation from a crap consequence of one neighbor’s bad decision, to proof-positive of the filth in which I’m meant to live.
Let me explain. I have nearly ten years of recovery — and the vast majority of the time, I manage to value myself in a way I never expected to be possible. Still, in a corner of my brain that I’ve yet to fully, permanently clean, exists a perspective that creeps up more often than I’d like…