What of Me?

There is a blog author, whose blogs I have sometimes reposted here on my blog, who wrote a blog that I read today and it got me thinking.  I've been thinking about recovery.  I mean, what is it exactly?  The publisher of SZ Magazine, Bill MacPhee, says that to be in recovery means you would not change who you are now for anyone else.  You are, in other words, happy with who you are and the lot you've been given in life. 

I know that compared to many people with this disease, I am blessed and have good things to be thankful for. I am married.  I have a daughter.  I am not living on the street or in poverty.  And if you have schizophrenia, those things are HUGE and can never ever be taken for granted.  Because many many others with the disease cannot say that they have those things.

I know I have to be thankful.

But sometimes.  Sometimes I'm not.

I graduated fourth in a class of over 900 kids....and that was just because a teacher made an error in my grades....I really should have been first or second.  By all rights, I should have had a spectacular career and made a mark on the world....just like all my classmates, those of us in the top five in that school did.  The only credential I have to my name is that I've been in over 40 psychiatric hospitals.

Day by day....I get up.  check my email.   chat online.  do the dishes.  cook dinner..and go to bed.  That is my day.  Significant?  Not hardly.

I try to be content.  I really do.  But when the most I can say I've accomplished in a week is taking two showers.  Well.  Sometimes I wonder why I'm here.

Here is a quote from my friend, Larry Drain's blog today, "If recovery seems far away know that it is not something to be found and added to life. It is simply life lived as well as you can. And sometimes in the worst of times we find the best of what we can be."

To me that is incredibly wise.  And incredibly hopeful.  Larry is going through some tough times right now.  And I somehow suspect that it is in these tough times that he is finding out what he is truly made of and finding that it is of high quality....He is being tried by fire and I can only pray that he is coming out like purified gold.

To me, in the mundanity of my days; in the bland everydayness of life; here in the place I call home....I see myself.  And I wonder if anyone would miss me if I wasn't here.  I wonder if my place here has any meaning to anyone but me.  I wonder if I am failing God by not being more; by not doing more.  I wonder if my life will produce anything that will endure time's tests.

I am not completely isolated.  For that I am grateful.
I have been able in tiny ways to contribute to God's world.  For that I am also grateful.
My thoughts are few.
My creativity even sparser.
My productivity less yet.
But I am known by God.
That must count for something, no?