Recovery isn’t what I do after.
It is what I do to begin.
I viewed recovery as something for the unfit.
A sign of weakness.
A habit of the weak.
Indulgent. Optional.
At best, something to earn.
At worst, something else to feel guilty about.
It wasn’t.
That was the story in my head.
The one that didn’t work when I needed recovery the most.
The one that didn’t survive the truth.
To clarity.
To conviction.
To capacity.
I recover in three ways.
Routine restores my mind.
Ritual restores my heart.
Rest restores my body.
Each one makes space.
Each one serves my purpose.
Each one discards weight.
Each one helps me serve my purpose.
On purpose.