Acceptance Is Not Giving Up
Last week, I received a message through my Buzzsprout page that stopped me in my tracks. A listener reached out asking where the show was and whether we were okay.
Moments like that matter. Many times, it feels like I am doing this podcast for Steve and me, two guys talking recovery into what feels like the void. The same is true for these Substack pieces. Sometimes it feels like I am simply working through my own thoughts in writing. Then something small and unexpected reminds me that the work reaches someone. It makes a difference.
And last week, I had to accept that we could not put out a show. Not because I did not want to, but because I physically could not.
The Tick That Changed My Week
At the end of October, I found what looked like a scab on my leg after working outside. I get ticks on me regularly, sometimes four or five in a day, so I did not think much of it. This time, I had the classic bullseye rash and was deeply imbedded.
Two weeks later, I spent my 50th birthday at Urgent Care. I was peeing constantly and felt discomfort in my lower abdomen. Then I suddenly developed the worst flu-like symptoms I have had in years. Overnight, I spiked what I am sure was a high fever, based on my Apple Watch showing a temperature three degrees above baseline. The next morning, I felt so sick that I asked my wife to drive me to the doctor. I have never felt so fatigued that I could not drive myself.
The doctor listened to my symptoms and asked one question that made everything click.
“Any tick bites recently?”
The bloodwork showed infection markers that were either very elevated or extremely low. Even though the Lyme test came back negative, every other indicator pointed to a tick-borne illness. Combined with the bullseye, we are treating it as Lyme.
That is when the real lesson began.
The Work of Acceptance
Recovery taught me about acceptance long before this. In early sobriety, acceptance meant acknowledging that I could not drink safely. Today, acceptance looks more like acknowledging the limits of my body and the limits of my control.
For the past week and a half, acceptance has meant:
No gym
No long dog walks
Taking naps during the day
Letting work and routines go
Listening when my body says, “Stop”
And it has been difficult.
Last week, I was not just unable to record a podcast. I was unable to record one that would provide value. I had to accept that showing up half-charged was not the right move.
So instead, I talked about acceptance this week. And yes, I also complained about how lousy I feel, because sometimes acceptance looks like honesty.
The Impatience Problem
One of my biggest character defects as an alcoholic is impatience. It is tied closely to the rigid thinking that comes with my neurodivergence. When my energy crashes, something in my mind instantly says:
“This will never get better.”
“You will feel this way forever.”
It mirrors the same thinking that kept me drinking.
My old sponsor, John, used to say, “This too shall pass.” I hated hearing it.
“Not for me, John.”
But he was always right.
Lyme recovery is slow. Slower than the flu. Slower than COVID. I will feel great one day and wake up the next with total fatigue, body aches, dizziness and brain fog. That happened while writing this. I had to stop halfway and lie on the couch. The setback brought the same lesson back to the surface.
Acceptance is not passive. Acceptance is patience in action.
The Fear Behind the Fight
Acceptance is uncomfortable because it forces us to face uncertainty. If I cannot control something, I cannot predict the outcome. Uncertainty triggers fear, the same fear that once fueled my drinking.
I am not going to drink today. But I could become irritable, anxious or short-tempered if I am not paying attention.
Acceptance requires humility.
Asking for help requires vulnerability.
Both make me feel like I am failing, even though I would never think that about anyone else who needed help.
I have had to ask my wife to drive me places, help with cooking, help with cleaning and handle many of the things I normally do. She does it willingly. If the roles were reversed, I would be upset if she did not ask me for help.
Yet when I need help, my brain tells me I am a burden. Acceptance helps override that lie.
The Kind of Control That Is Healthy
One area of my life where acceptance came easily was taking care of my health.
Turning 50 pushed me to focus on:
Regular checkups
Preventive care
Exercise
Nutrition
Weight management
In February 2024, I weighed 287 pounds. My doctor warned me that he did not want to see that number reach 300. I lost weight, gained some back and by June I was at 277.
Wegovy, with insurance coverage, along with support from a nutritionist, helped bring me to 229 pounds today. Lyme disease reduced my appetite, but the real progress came from steady work over the past year.
Health is one area where planning gives me real control. Listening to my body saved me. Going to the doctor saved me. Please, let my experience push you toward doing the same.
Letting Go, Even at Thanksgiving
I have to accept that my kids will help with Thanksgiving dinner this year. That is not my usual way. I take pride in doing everything myself.
But acceptance also means letting connection replace perfection.
Maybe the stuffing will not be packed exactly the way I do it.
Maybe the onions will be chopped differently.
But we will be together, and that is what matters.
Your Turn
I want to hear from you.
What does acceptance look like in your life?
Where do you struggle?
Where do you succeed?
What can you teach me, and others, about accepting what we cannot control?
Your experience might be exactly what someone else needs today.