I’m reaching a place where I quietly ask myself, What’s the point?
Not from despair, not from defeat — but from exhaustion.
From the sheer effort it takes to hold everything together.
The constant mental sparring.
The emotions plucked and vibrating like a guitar string that never stops humming.
There’s a breaking point I remember from rehab that I need to revisit —
the moment I stopped fighting my way through life.
Not giving up…
but surrendering.
It was the moment I said yes to God’s invitation,
and yes to the people He placed on my path:
my family, my friends, therapists, techs, sponsor, doctor.
They said, “Do this,” and I said, “I’m in.”
Blood pressure meds? Done.
Work the steps? Absolutely.
Seek therapy? Yes, sir. Yes, ma’am.
For once, I wasn’t resisting the process —
I was letting myself be carried by it.
And it saved my life.
I want to return to that posture again —
to stop wrestling with God’s will
and start saying yes the way I did when everything in me needed saving.
Back then, in early sobriety, when fear rose up or intrusive thoughts took over,
I whispered a hundred times a day,
“Thy will be done.”
Those four words were the bridge back to sanity.
Lord, help me see this entire journey as Your gift to me.
My very existence — a gift.
The love I receive — a gift.
The challenges that shape me — a gift.
Teach me not to push back,
not to brace against every unknown,
but to float forward with a surrendered heart,
trusting that Your will
— not mine —
is more than enough.
Thy will be done.
And that will be just fine.
