Most of my letters have become a desperate attempts to convince myself of my recovery. That although I've lost pieces beneath the rubble of history, the magnitude of how different I've become cannot go unnoticed. So what have I recovered? If not the whole that makes me human, then what did I salvage that's good enough to be considered redeemable?

In the mirror I'm prone to looking beyond the skin. That's where vanity lies, and I'm in need to believe there's something worth saving beneath the surface. What qualities need to endure scrutiny to be refined for me to stand boldly on two feet confident there's no compromise within me. so I write letters to convince myself "Be proud of how far you've come, it could've been a lot worse".. indeed I'm sure.

I'm a good man, yet being good isn't enough. It doesn't guarantee a fulfilled life, Healing, contentment or the heeding of purpose. what am I then? I'm familiar with the term "A trying man is a better man". but have I tried hard enough to be considered better....

All this pondering I now understand... If I do not accept recovery is not exclusive to my perception of what it should be or feel like, I'll always be searching for something I already have but too blind to notice. I noticed I'm not moved by my thoughts anymore.. for waves have their highs and waves have their lows.. but rest assured it always settles.

© fruitfulodyssey