Balance, the art of it, is a constant struggle for me. It seems I am always overreaching, and paying for it afterward.

It's hard to correctly estimate my strength, and so I overdo, and then I have to cease until my body stops punishing me for my hubris. And again, and then again.

And so I woke this morning with searing pain in my joints, a direct result of the chores I did yesterday, and I spend the day wrapped in a heated blanket, gently moving each afflicted joint, hoping for an ease in the pain. It will come, eventually, but right now eventually seems like eternity.

There is something magical for me in admitting to myself and the universe what my problem is. It definitely goes against the idea that vulnerability and weakness are never to be shown, and idea I spent a great deal of my life enforcing.

But sobriety requires me to not keep secrets and I think that the act of telling somehow releases the hold whatever the issue has on me. It's a kind of freedom, and it happens every time, no matter how much I think it won't.

And suddenly, whatever the problem or issue, it's just...manageable.

I have to believe that in being honest to someone else about this stuff, I make it impossible to lie to myself about it.

Acceptance is the answer to all my problems, indeed.