The outdoors are a safe haven for me. It’s usually a place for me to escape in a healthy way. This weekend, the usual serene walk in the woods was a stress-filled anger fest – not mine, at least that’s how it started.

My stormy stroll in the wilderness was a test of my recovery, my relationship, and my faith, and let’s just say I didn’t pass the test with flying colors.

The last two and a half years have been like a refining process for my relationship. My love for my partner has been tempered by the hardship that accompanies life in addiction recovery. The hours spent in therapy mean that we, as a couple, have both made progress in the capacity for understanding, empathy, forgiveness, and the ability to relate when we listen.

Sunday, however, was just one of those days. Normally, I outstride my girlfriend when we walk, and it’s often remarked that I need to slow down. In fact, most folks comment on my pace when walking. It’s always been a thing of mine to walk briskly. Today, however, there was an anger in the stride of my partner. We don’t really argue much these days, as we communicate and air our feelings in much more productive ways.

As we paced through the woods, almost like scanning through a movie scene at twice the speed of real-time, it was apparent that serenity was not on the menu in the woods today. Instead, I asked why the anger, but instead of an answer, it was an eruption of emotions and resentment. The hardest part was that it was all true. This was like having my inventory thrown in my face, and my immediate response was a greatest hits play through my character defects.

On display were my basic responses to how I used to deal with discomfort. Let’s see, I got defensive because I let my feelings get hurt, I attacked back, I tried to check out of the drama unfurling before me, only to strop off in the opposite direction, flung my phone into the woods, bottled up my negative feelings, and suppressed emotions. I was at war with the person I love the most.

Don’t get me wrong; it wasn’t all just my defects. But here was a test if ever there was one. As we circled back home in the car, I got dropped off. The paces between the car and the front door to the empty house, I thought, “Here we go, might as well act out.”

I got in, locked the door, and the great big ball of emotions I was trying to keep a lid on erupted into a cry and a prayer, “God, I surrender my relationship to your hands, keep me intact, and don’t let me go my own way.”

Instead of acting out, I got my house in order, mainly in the form of tidying the kitchen and getting on with some admin while I listened to my newest Audible credit choice, “Letting Go.”

I had passed the test, but I recognized my defects erupted like a mento in a bottle of coke. Lucky for me and my iPhone, there were no cracked screens or too much damage done. This was a case of surrender and work my tenth step. I promptly needed to admit my wrongdoing.

I share this because it’s important to remember that we aren’t promised easy lives. In fact, the opposite is true. When we live life on life’s terms instead of our own, we have to accept that we need to lean into the uncomfortable on a regular basis.

Along with my admissions came some assertions that I needed to make, not out of some point scoring, but as part of my own boundary setting.

I am grateful for the tools that have shown me that I have the eye to spot my defects now, to call time at the bar when they need chucking out. I don’t get to let defects, fears, and resentments run amok now, as it leads to distorted thinking and bad conduct.