I’m trying to put together something to wear to a Halloween party tonight. I’ve already decided against a costume, but I want to wear something…….you know, “Halloweenish”. Honestly, my only criteria and number one requirement is I don’t want to look ridiculous.

I know, I know : “You shouldn’t feel that way”. “Page 62,” “Self seeking will slip away” Shut up, apparently I’m not there yet when it comes to my appearance.

On days like this I desperately miss my daughter Jolie. She moved up to Everett, WA in May. We’ve always been bonded tightly. Sometimes more like best friends than mother/daughter. There were years where we struggled with everything together. I guess that’s because while she was growing up, I was getting sober and growing up too.

Not having her in my daily life has been a trudge similar to my early sobriety. I just try to get through it one day at a time, dealing with the feelings as they come up. I surrender her to God and her own path every time I feel the ache.

Today I’m thinking about Jolie’s loving eyes. Not how they look, but rather how she sees me with them. Like so many women in recovery, I can’t always see myself clearly. But my little fashion consultant can. She sprawls on my bed while I’m getting dressed, and when I think I’m ready I look to her for the “nod”. If she rolls her eyes at me, I head back to the closet. The thing is, sometimes I try too hard. Jolie loves me just the way I am. And she’s honest and loving enough to say “you look good just the way you are. ” What a concept.

So back to the Halloween party. I need to figure out what to wear. I am in acceptance that Jolie isn’t here to help. So I decide, against my better judgment, to run it by my husband. He’s in the family room when I stroll out and strike a pose. He looks me up and down, and asks “have you seen the big , fat, rubber band I had laying on the counter ?”. God save me from alcoholic men.