I don’t like driving mountain passes! For most of my adult life and almost all my sobriety, I lived in the Pacific Northwest where there are MANY mountain passes. I feel anxious going up, fooled in the small valleys in between, and so scared when going down those 6+% grades. It’s even worse if there are a lot of trucks.

Going through the mountains between Oregon and California on a trip got me thinking about how the difficult times in life and sobriety are like going through those mountain passes. Going up you can’t see where you are. It can be hard on the car, like it can be hard on the spirit. There are twists and turns that by the time you get used to them, they change. Some trucks go so slowly, and some cars go so fast. I find myself judging my progress against them. It’s like whatever I do in life—comparing and feeling out of control many times. At the top of the pass there is a vista, and things look very clear for a moment. But then it’s all downhill! And that can be as hard as the uphill climb, will it ever end, can I control my speed!

As I came out of the mountains into California, I saw Mt. Shasta brilliant in the sun! It was amazing and for many minutes the difficulty of the mountains was worth the view. As I got down to the flat of Interstate 5, I went through Yreka, CA. Soon I saw an exit sign for the upcoming exit. I knew I HAD to take it: Exit 770 - Easy St./Shamrock Rd!

I had to get to Easy Street—didn’t everyone want to live there? Would there be big houses and fancy cars in the driveways? Did folks look like they were always happy? Did their luck show on Shamrock Rd.? How could I live there?

What did I find? A rural road with few houses. Nothing special, no great signs of wealth and happiness. Then I remembered: Easy Street is a state of mind not a single place or destination. Probably the people who found their way to this place long ago, named the streets in the hope that for them it would come true—their life would be easy, and I’d like to think it did in their spirit; perhaps it kept them hopeful.

I smiled, got back on the freeway, and pulled over on the shoulder to take a picture of the sign so I could always remember. I can live on Easy Street any time I live in the present moment and embrace hope. That second step is my favorite. It’s the Hope step. This is an excerpt from my book—God Shots: Memories and Lessons, A life is Recovery. Libbie S., Sober Sisters Monday meeting Green Valley, AZ