And sometimes recovery
doesn’t look like medications
or therapy appointments
or healing wounds
and fading scars.
Sometimes it looks like
wearing a seatbelt
when driving a car
or hesitating before
you cross the street.
It looks like breakfast
when you remember to eat
and by god, it’s okay
if it has to be something sweet.
(Chocolate chip muffins
are my favorite treat.)
Sometimes recovery
looks like remembering to shower
even when the midnight hour
is telling you it is too late,
and sometimes it looks like
leaving at half past eight
when your school or job
started at seven.
Sometimes recovery
looks more like hell than heaven
but oh, there is brilliance
in the way it shines,
it is more human and broken
and less divine,
but it is no less beautiful.
(And I promise you
it takes my breath away.)
Sometimes recovery
is choosing to stay
even after you’ve decided to leave,
sometimes recovery
is less joy, more grief,
sometimes it’s agony,
sometimes it’s relief,
and messy, by god is it messy.
And if all I can do
is remind you
that all recovery does not look the same,
And that you do not bear the blame
if yours takes longer than others.
(Because there is no timeline to recover
all that matters is that you just don’t give in.)
If you just let yourself stand again
you will have already won the war,
because recovery is deciding
that you are worth fighting for
and you are, dearheart, you are.
Sometimes recovery
doesn’t look like fading scars
but it does look like you do today,
a quarter to nine, well past eight
rushing because you are late
but your seatbelt is on
and your favorite song
plays on the radio.
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