And so the hunt for a new home continues. I am not at all unique when I say not knowing where you will live next brings a formidable amount of stress that is, quite frankly, exhausting.

The other day I asked Christine to take my house plants to her house so they’d be safe. She was sweetly reluctant, rightly pointing out that the presence of plants was calming and uplifting. True, I said, “But keep in mind that the whole process of going through an experience like this is like a fire fight; you’re not going to get through it without being bloodied, without being damaged, wounded. The thing is you keep going, keep fighting.” In other words, allow the experience, and all that comes with it.

Not easy. And, in a word, terrifying.

It is striking to me, though not at all surprising, that the large majority of those reaching out to me are people who, like me, are in recovery and the loved ones of same. With some exceptions, there has been pretty much silence from all others. Nothing unique there. And it’s okay. People are people with, like me, frailties and limits. So goes the wonderful and perplexing world of humanity.

There is one indelible and glorious truth that is by no means lost on me. I am alive and therefore afforded the privilege of going through this experience – one day at a time.

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