Don’t rain on my parade

“Don’t tell me not to live
just sit and putter,
Life’s candy and the sun’s
a ball of butter,
Don’t bring around a cloud
to rain on my parade.
Don’t tell me not to fly,
I’ve simply got to
If someone takes a spill
It’s me and not you.
who told you you’re allowed to rain on my parade?”

Dolly Levi in ‘Hello Dolly’

As Barbara Streisand belts out the lyrics I am always inspired with the energy and sentiment behind the song. Recovery has given me back enthusiasm and gratitude. I don’t always fly, but I do sometimes. Barbara is my inspiration. (Okay, not for life, but I’ve just listened to the track and I’m certainly raring to go this morning!)

Just this week I heard a couple of stories about folk who, for whatever reason, continue to be suspicious of recovery and want to rain on the recovery parade. It got me to making an inventory of the phenomenon of opposition to the recovery movement. I mean the stuff I’ve come across these last few years. It actually made quite a list and I’m not going to dwell on it, for Androcles is a positive guy.

I am curious though about why people seem to oppose the concept of recovery and refuse to look at the evidence. My own guess is that it is based on fear. Fear of the unknown; of having to change; of having to let go of power and control and authority; of no longer being depended on or being in charge. I’m familiar with these sorts of fears, for I have had them myself.

Perhaps the best balm for these fears, our most potent remedy, is to show that there is nothing to fear. As recovering people, our experience is our strength and we can demonstrate that this is a force for good and that we may still call on professionals for their support as part of our journey.

This autumn’s Recovery Walk in Glasgow is our parade, our celebration of recovery. And nobody, I repeat, NOBODY, is gonna rain on it.