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When life recently threw me two major curveballs—a cancer diagnosis for my husband and my own battle with stress-induced shingles—my first thought wasn’t, "I need a drink," like it once would have been.
What a difference four and a half years of sobriety makes. But sobriety, for me, is not just about putting down the bottle. It’s been about working on myself—understanding why I picked up in the first place, shifting old thoughts and beliefs, reconnecting with my Higher Power through prayer and meditation, and nurturing my body with good nutrition and exercise.
Taking care of my body, mind, and spirit has become part of my daily routine—a process of filling up my well, bucket by bucket, day after day. Thank God my well was full to the brim when my husband was diagnosed with melanoma in July. I dipped my bucket into that well and thought, "Okay. This is happening. What lessons will I learn?" Then I prayed, replenishing my well as best as I could.
But soon, the cancer started spreading. Instead of enjoying summer activities at the shore or in the mountains, our calendar filled up with doctor appointments and medical tests. Life got lifey—fast. And the longer it went on, the more I dipped from my well. Eventually, I became worn down, and with the stress, shingles set in.
I've always heard that shingles are horrific. And let me tell you—it’s true. The pain and exhaustion were overwhelming. Between the mental strain and physical breakdown, my well was running dangerously low. I tried to keep up with my routine. I stayed connected with friends (instead of isolating). I prayed, even when I didn’t feel particularly thankful, and I did my best to eat well. But I’m human. For a few days, I thought, "I don’t care."
Those words—"I don’t care"—are significant. They’re the same words I used to tell myself before reaching for another glass of wine or vodka. Back then, I really didn’t care. But I do now. I care because I've worked hard to understand and love myself, to appreciate my life, and to be grateful for everything I have.
But for a few days, my well of emotional, spiritual, and physical reserves started running dangerously low, and the thought, "I don’t care," kept echoing in my mind. I could hear it as I opted for a bowl of ice cream at lunch instead of my usual balanced meal of lean protein and vegetables. I didn’t care when I spent hours scrolling through social media or getting lost in sensationalized news instead of feeding my mind with uplifting, inspiring literature.
Shingles had me completely incapacitated. I was popping aspirin every four hours, lying on the couch with a heating pad on my back and an ice pack on my chest. The gym was out of the question. Even walking the dog was too much. But the truth is, I didn’t care. I lay there feeling sorry for myself, reading mindless posts on X and eating the Halloween candy I’d bought with every intention of handing out to trick-or-treaters.
Even with my well running dry, I had just enough reserves to keep my world from completely falling apart. And where did those reserves come from? They were built over four and a half years of consistent, daily maintenance. Day after day, I’d poured bucket after bucket of healing water into my well—through prayers of gratitude, nourishing meals, long walks, yoga, time on the rowing machine, and spiritual books and audio that fed my body, mind, and soul. So even during those dark days when I felt like I didn’t care, there was still enough water in my well to carry me through.
This week, I’ve started feeling a little better. I made it back to a few meetings and was inspired by others in the rooms. I reconnected with people in my business and caught up on what I had missed. Those meetings and connections reminded me of my purpose and how important it is to know that we all have meaning. Having a sense of purpose is integral to living a healthy life.
I’ve also been able to take my dog out for a few walks in this beautiful fall weather. Feeling the sun on my face has helped lift the darkness I’d felt being cooped up at home.
I thank God every day, asking Him for strength and kindness in the days ahead. I don’t know what the future holds, so why waste time trying to control it? That old insanity of wanting to manage every aspect of my life is something I’ve let go of. Now, I trust that God has a plan. Whatever happens, I will accept it.
Each day, I recommit to refilling my well and staying strong. This experience has shown me just how vital it is to maintain our emotional, spiritual, and physical well-being in recovery—it’s what prepares us for the moments we never see coming.
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