The Significance of a Normal Day

It was a slow Sunday, a day of relative rest to ease the strains before the start of the next working week. Another normal, uneventful day, one that will surely be forgotten before the month is out. Participation in the day was ordinary; conversations were polite, unassuming, and rather monotonous. Work was completed, a few chores done and before I knew it, that was that. This was the literality of the day. So why bother writing about it then? Well, in recovery, a day like this can become extraordinary by reflecting, being mindful, and simply taking it in.

I cruised through the morning, getting into work as usual without much thought for what the date was and what it signified. It took me until about 10am to realise it was not only my mum’s birthday, but it was 10 months to the day since I quit gambling for good. There was never any reason why the 26th happened to be the day I decided to stop, but I smiled at the coincidence. I took the moment in and found a peaceful happiness in a date that has often been pensively sad. As the day went by, I dropped in with myself to remember the journey and how I got here. I recognised how physically and emotionally drained I was. It had been a life-changing week.
Flashback seven days.

I’ve been trying to catch up with my best friend for months but our lives are finding all sorts of new innovative ways to keep us apart. I know I need to cancel on her this week but I’m no longer willing to lie about the reasons. To explain the reason is to explain the gambling, and the fact I’ve been keeping this from her all this time.

“Something has come up.” It does the job, but it’s also distant and defensive. I sit on it for a while before I tell her we need to talk about something soon. That is never a good thing to tell anyone, as they almost certainly think you’re dying. When I told her I’m okay and not to worry, it only provoked more questions and anxiety from her. In the back of my mind, I knew I’d have to explain before we next met in person.

On the 23rd she asked to know whatever it was that I needed to tell her, and a bit like Don Corleone, a best friend cannot refuse any request on the day of his best friend’s 30th birthday. I told her everything and felt a gigantic weight leave my soul. She couldn’t have been more perfect in dealing with it all. Contrary to what the mind likes to catastrophise, when you tell someone who you know to be a sincere and empathetic person something important about yourself, they will only have your best interests in mind.

That evening, I have a shift at work. I go in and find the first few hours unbearable. Speaking to people seems like the hardest task in the world and I can’t bring myself to look anyone in the eye. I’ve used all of my energy up. These are the parts of recovery people won’t always understand. Coworkers or customers or bosses or friends who just don’t know the full picture, they won’t understand why you’re being off, and that’s really difficult.

The next morning I drag myself out of bed to do an interview for some charity work. It is for the role of a peer support volunteer for an organisation that helped me in the very early stages of my recovery. In the past I’ve had interviews for jobs that I really wanted and felt so anxious to the point of ghosting the whole thing as if it were never in motion. As I sat waiting for this interview, I felt confident and excited, I couldn’t wait for it to start. The exhaustion of the day before was still there but I embraced that feeling, using it to make me stronger, more resolute. The interview went brilliantly. Would it have gone quite as well if I didn’t open up as I did the day before?

The interesting part about opening up in such vulnerable fashion is that you allow people who may have seen you one way to see you in another. To let yourself be seen as you truly are is the best thing you can do for yourself. It doesn’t mean you have to tell everyone your life story, but once you strip off some of the baggage and let people know how much it weighed, the insecurities aren’t as heavy either. Allowing myself to be judged gave me strength in knowing I’m regaining control of my own sense of self. We could understand a person’s judgement of us as we do the strength of their eyes. If they like what they see or if they despise it; if they see you as you stand or if they can only imagine; if they can see you from afar or only from up close or not at all; it is not for us to change the lens they look through.

The growing that can be done in just one normal week is not to be underestimated. I feel like I’ve conquered fears, got closer to where I want to be, and dug in through a tough time to stand up and be counted. It’s been the kind of week filled with days where I wouldn’t have blamed myself for throwing in the towel and locking myself away from the world. This journey constantly challenges my empathy for others as I deal with my own s**t. When things are getting too much, it’s good to search for connection with others, to listen and share, to hear and see them for who they are, knowing it will help. To connect is to help ourselves, and together we may find the beauty in the irregularity of a normal day.