I've just returned from the paint store with 6 gallons of eggshell finish interior paint and all the accouterments (rollers, drop clothes, etc) - an actual paint store as opposed to a home improvement outfit. I am feeling quite competent.

Competence was not something I experienced before recovery. I was afraid - painfully shy and quiet (One of my cousins asked his sister, after I'd been sober a few years, "When did Jeanine get a personality?" When I stopped drinking, sir). In my jobs I was very competent, tending towards promotions, but in my personal life, I was inept - or so I thought myself.

My father was very competent - a handy man if there ever was one. He wasn't a particularly talented woodworker, but he had the basics down and built several shelves and cabinets, and even a bench with a lid. He knew his way around a hammer, and a saw, and a few other tools that I knew by name if not purpose. I didn't pay much attention to the workings of a household when I was growing up, more intent on sneaking around corners, on trying not to get caught at whatever I was up to. I got married the first time not knowing how to do much other than boil water. I learned how to run the vacuum and balance a checkbook and put together mom's meatloaf. It was a learn-as-you-go process, and I did not stretch myself beyond the minimum required.

There was an element of learned-helplessness to my m.o., whether that was cultural (as in "women should be..." or the drivel I absorbed from "ladie's" magazines  and pop music about my place in the world), or picked up from my mom  - that idea of feeling small and unsure. A friend once expressed his frustration, saying, "I know all these strong women who run marathons and run companies, and when I ask what they want for dinner, they whimper, 'Oh I don't know - what do you want?" Learning to want what I want, and say so, has been an element of growing up, of gaining confidence, of taking my place in the world.

For the first few months of my recovery, my ex - the one who'd left the country and married another woman - was very kind, and helped me financially. Then came the day when I needed to take out my own loan for my home. When my realtor met me at the Title Company I wanted to cry. Being fully self supporting through my own contribution hadn't been on my list of things to do, so I was surprised at how good it felt - how adult, how competent.

Going to school, buying a car, fixing the bathroom sink, painting the living room - all seemingly small things in the grand scheme of life, but each time I act my age and take responsibility for my surroundings as well as my happiness, my self-efficacy increases.

I don't remember getting many "life lessons" from my dad, but one of the things he did tell me was, "Don't be afraid to put enough paint on the brush." As I dive into my painting project, I'll remember his example and will take a moment to reflect on how far I've come from the fearful girl who readily handed off responsibility for my happiness and avoided anything that seemed like it might be hard, to a person who "intuitively knows how to handle situations that used to baffle me," even something as simple as what color to paint the living room.

How have you changed in the years you've been sober? Where do you have confidence where you used to think yourself small?