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Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Monday, January 31, 2011
Friday, January 28, 2011
Understanding Guilt
When I quit drinking and joined AA, I had no idea that I was embarking on a journey of self-discovery. Like many new AAs, I just figured I could learn how to drink like normal people. It was not the first notion of which I was disabused and I'm certain it won't be the last.
Through working the steps, I've learned a lot about who I was and how to change thinking that was harming me. I never thought I was a particularly angry person, but that was because I stuffed my emotions in a mental closet and locked them up tight. I also didn't think I was a people-pleaser, but practicing rigorous self-honesty taught me otherwise. I knew I had been trained growing up to respond to manipulation through guilt, but believed I'd thrown off the shackles of that worthless emotion. Wrong again.
Many people come into the rooms of AA horribly wracked with guilt and shame over their drinking behavior. Unfortunately, alcoholism is still poorly understood by the general public, so, on the surface, many of those behaviors might lead the drinker and those around them to believe they are entirely worthy of those feelings. However, if you ask an alcoholic if it's likely they would have done anything differently knowing only what they knew at the time, they will usually tell you they would have done exactly the same thing, even though they aren't proud of their behavior and would not have done those things if they were sober. One of the primary differences between an alcoholic and a normal drinker is that alcohol will lead an alcoholic to engage in uncharacteristic behavior, i.e., it changes their personality. This does not in any way excuse or exonerate that behavior, but it does explain it. An alcoholic is powerless over alcohol.
Just knowing that can sometimes alleviate some of the guilt. Doing so is important because harboring negative feelings can get an alcoholic drunk faster than just about anything. Guilt is one of those "dubious luxuries" of normal drinkers. We can't afford it.
In order to free ourselves of guilt, we need to come to a fuller understanding of just what guilt is, and where it comes from. Simply put, guilt is a by-product of control. Most of us learned it in childhood from our parents and other authority figures. In an effort to mold our behavior, we often heard things such as "Nice girls don't do that," or "No son of mine will ever (insert behavior)." Because we instinctively want to be on the good side of the people who feed, clothe and house us, we learn to feel badly when we don't live up to their expectations. Because we are alcoholics, even before we start drinking, we develop disproportionately large guilt mechanisms. We are experts not only at feeling guilt, but at wielding it as well. We become people-pleasers and manipulators. Unconsciously, we believe we are running the world and everything that happens in it is a direct result of our actions or inactions.
Now, not everyone who is self-centered in such a way is an alcoholic, but every alcoholic I've ever met is disproportionately self-centered. The purpose of the 12 steps is to teach us to think differently about ourselves and the world around us, and that is why they are so extremely powerful. They can relieve us of the desire to drink when nothing else on earth could.
In a nutshell, when we feel guilty, it is because of our unconscious desire to please others. We still believe that we can control others' thoughts and feelings by our actions. To some extent, we can, but it's an imperfect science. Anyone who tries on a consistent basis to do so knows what an impossible task it is to please everyone, but the alcoholic still believes it is possible in the face of their failure.
The alternative to guilt is a release of control and the honest attempt at right action. In AA, we call it "doing the next right thing". In the third step, we give up our will and our lives to the care of our higher power. In the eleventh step we develop our relationship with that power by asking only for knowledge of its will for us and the power to carry it out. In the twelfth step we attempt to practice these principles in all of our affairs.
It is in this practice that we are able stay sober and free of guilt. We take life as it comes to us and let our higher power lead the way. We aren't perfect at it, because we are humans. But we do progress. As a consequence, we are able to learn how to lead happy and productive lives that enhance the lives of those around us. Thus the powerless become powerful. I call that a win-win.
Through working the steps, I've learned a lot about who I was and how to change thinking that was harming me. I never thought I was a particularly angry person, but that was because I stuffed my emotions in a mental closet and locked them up tight. I also didn't think I was a people-pleaser, but practicing rigorous self-honesty taught me otherwise. I knew I had been trained growing up to respond to manipulation through guilt, but believed I'd thrown off the shackles of that worthless emotion. Wrong again.
Many people come into the rooms of AA horribly wracked with guilt and shame over their drinking behavior. Unfortunately, alcoholism is still poorly understood by the general public, so, on the surface, many of those behaviors might lead the drinker and those around them to believe they are entirely worthy of those feelings. However, if you ask an alcoholic if it's likely they would have done anything differently knowing only what they knew at the time, they will usually tell you they would have done exactly the same thing, even though they aren't proud of their behavior and would not have done those things if they were sober. One of the primary differences between an alcoholic and a normal drinker is that alcohol will lead an alcoholic to engage in uncharacteristic behavior, i.e., it changes their personality. This does not in any way excuse or exonerate that behavior, but it does explain it. An alcoholic is powerless over alcohol.
Just knowing that can sometimes alleviate some of the guilt. Doing so is important because harboring negative feelings can get an alcoholic drunk faster than just about anything. Guilt is one of those "dubious luxuries" of normal drinkers. We can't afford it.
In order to free ourselves of guilt, we need to come to a fuller understanding of just what guilt is, and where it comes from. Simply put, guilt is a by-product of control. Most of us learned it in childhood from our parents and other authority figures. In an effort to mold our behavior, we often heard things such as "Nice girls don't do that," or "No son of mine will ever (insert behavior)." Because we instinctively want to be on the good side of the people who feed, clothe and house us, we learn to feel badly when we don't live up to their expectations. Because we are alcoholics, even before we start drinking, we develop disproportionately large guilt mechanisms. We are experts not only at feeling guilt, but at wielding it as well. We become people-pleasers and manipulators. Unconsciously, we believe we are running the world and everything that happens in it is a direct result of our actions or inactions.
Now, not everyone who is self-centered in such a way is an alcoholic, but every alcoholic I've ever met is disproportionately self-centered. The purpose of the 12 steps is to teach us to think differently about ourselves and the world around us, and that is why they are so extremely powerful. They can relieve us of the desire to drink when nothing else on earth could.
In a nutshell, when we feel guilty, it is because of our unconscious desire to please others. We still believe that we can control others' thoughts and feelings by our actions. To some extent, we can, but it's an imperfect science. Anyone who tries on a consistent basis to do so knows what an impossible task it is to please everyone, but the alcoholic still believes it is possible in the face of their failure.
The alternative to guilt is a release of control and the honest attempt at right action. In AA, we call it "doing the next right thing". In the third step, we give up our will and our lives to the care of our higher power. In the eleventh step we develop our relationship with that power by asking only for knowledge of its will for us and the power to carry it out. In the twelfth step we attempt to practice these principles in all of our affairs.
It is in this practice that we are able stay sober and free of guilt. We take life as it comes to us and let our higher power lead the way. We aren't perfect at it, because we are humans. But we do progress. As a consequence, we are able to learn how to lead happy and productive lives that enhance the lives of those around us. Thus the powerless become powerful. I call that a win-win.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
The Prodigal Returneth
My long holiday hiatus is over. It is a new year, with new challenges, and I have a fresh attitude to go with the change of date. What prompted me to return today, of all days, was a prolonged visit with my higher power.
I've mentioned before that I no longer believe my life is a series of random events without purpose or meaning. I don't always get to know why things happen, but I often get let in on the secret after the event has passed. Tonight was one of those times.
I welcomed January in this year with the realization that I did not drink in 2010. Not once. As of tomorrow, it will be fifteen months since I picked up my surrender chip. I cannot tell you, because I can't remember, how long it has been since I went an entire calendar year without drinking. When I was younger I often went a year where I had drunk less than a six pack, but I almost always at least had a drink or three on New Year's Eve or other rare occasions.
So, with this happy and joyous realization, I started 2011 with all the enthusiasm of a woman who was free. With my higher power firmly in charge, I start each morning asking my higher power to reveal its will for me, and for the power to carry it out. Then I get going and see what comes along. I don't always remember specifically anticipating the next right thing, but as I drove to my noon meeting yesterday, I did.
At the meeting was a woman who looked somewhat familiar. She sat across the table from me and said hi. I admired her necklace and wondered to myself if she was a newcomer, or if I'd seen her at another meeting. But I definitely noticed her.
After the meeting was over, she introduced herself and asked me if I'd be willing to speak at the Wednesday night (tonight's) meeting at the local rehab facility. I don't know how she got my name, or what inspired her to ask me, or even how she knew where to find me, but I did find out later that she was specifically at the meeting to ask me to speak.
Now, ordinarily, I am working on Wednesday nights. Because my husband and I work opposite shifts, if I'm not working, we generally have plans to do something together. But this particular Wednesday, for some reason, I had the night off, and my husband had choir practice, so I had no plans. It seemed my higher power had plans for me, so I agreed to speak.
After my first speaker's meeting, I got my first sponsee, and even though some other rather dramatic things happened that night, I soon realized that's why I was there. This time, I knew it couldn't be that because I have three sponsees working the steps right now, and that's all the time I can devote to sponsoring. As it is I sometimes feel like I'm playing whack-a-mole. One sponsee needs me, we get her settled, and then one of the others pops up with an issue.
In any event, I knew I was supposed to be there. I prepped myself by going to an online meeting in the morning, then my regular noon meeting, then I had lunch with my sponsor, then I read the Big Book until it was time to get ready to leave. I was full of AA goodness. Right before the meeting, I ducked into the bathroom to turn it all over to my higher power so that the words I said would reach the ears that needed to hear them, and I went in cold.
The first time I did it, I remembered very little of what I said afterwards, and I can only remember a little of what I said tonight, even though it was only two hours ago. But somebody heard what they needed to hear, and three people picked up surrender chips when I was done. One of them was an old drinking buddy of mine. I didn't remember his name, but he remembered me from one of the places that I'd mentioned I used to drink in, and I do remember his face. Whatever else comes out of this service I was privileged to give, he had a friendly, familiar face telling him that I was able, with the help of AA, to quit drinking, and that he could, too. That's more than enough. That's what we do. We save each other's lives, one drunk at a time.
There was one thing I didn't remember to say that I'd intended to say. Since my higher power had other words for me then, I'll do it here. When I was very early in sobriety, there was one sentence in the Big Book that made a real impression. It's the beginning of "How it Works" and it's read in most AA meetings.
"Rarely have we seen a person fail who has thoroughly followed our path." That's quite a claim, and one that I disputed myself the first time I "tried" AA. I was sure AA wouldn't work for me, so I kept on drinking. When I came back in, I turned it over and over in my mind. "Rarely have we seen a person fail, who has thoroughly followed our path."
Is it always easy? No. Life can be hard, and getting sober can be, too. But it's a lot easier than the road I was on before I began to thoroughly follow in the steps of other recovering alcoholics. Don't drink, go to meetings, get a sponsor, read the Big Book, work 12 simple steps, and keep working them. Does it work? Yes, yes it does. Is it worth it? More than I can ever say.
I've mentioned before that I no longer believe my life is a series of random events without purpose or meaning. I don't always get to know why things happen, but I often get let in on the secret after the event has passed. Tonight was one of those times.
I welcomed January in this year with the realization that I did not drink in 2010. Not once. As of tomorrow, it will be fifteen months since I picked up my surrender chip. I cannot tell you, because I can't remember, how long it has been since I went an entire calendar year without drinking. When I was younger I often went a year where I had drunk less than a six pack, but I almost always at least had a drink or three on New Year's Eve or other rare occasions.
So, with this happy and joyous realization, I started 2011 with all the enthusiasm of a woman who was free. With my higher power firmly in charge, I start each morning asking my higher power to reveal its will for me, and for the power to carry it out. Then I get going and see what comes along. I don't always remember specifically anticipating the next right thing, but as I drove to my noon meeting yesterday, I did.
At the meeting was a woman who looked somewhat familiar. She sat across the table from me and said hi. I admired her necklace and wondered to myself if she was a newcomer, or if I'd seen her at another meeting. But I definitely noticed her.
After the meeting was over, she introduced herself and asked me if I'd be willing to speak at the Wednesday night (tonight's) meeting at the local rehab facility. I don't know how she got my name, or what inspired her to ask me, or even how she knew where to find me, but I did find out later that she was specifically at the meeting to ask me to speak.
Now, ordinarily, I am working on Wednesday nights. Because my husband and I work opposite shifts, if I'm not working, we generally have plans to do something together. But this particular Wednesday, for some reason, I had the night off, and my husband had choir practice, so I had no plans. It seemed my higher power had plans for me, so I agreed to speak.
After my first speaker's meeting, I got my first sponsee, and even though some other rather dramatic things happened that night, I soon realized that's why I was there. This time, I knew it couldn't be that because I have three sponsees working the steps right now, and that's all the time I can devote to sponsoring. As it is I sometimes feel like I'm playing whack-a-mole. One sponsee needs me, we get her settled, and then one of the others pops up with an issue.
In any event, I knew I was supposed to be there. I prepped myself by going to an online meeting in the morning, then my regular noon meeting, then I had lunch with my sponsor, then I read the Big Book until it was time to get ready to leave. I was full of AA goodness. Right before the meeting, I ducked into the bathroom to turn it all over to my higher power so that the words I said would reach the ears that needed to hear them, and I went in cold.
The first time I did it, I remembered very little of what I said afterwards, and I can only remember a little of what I said tonight, even though it was only two hours ago. But somebody heard what they needed to hear, and three people picked up surrender chips when I was done. One of them was an old drinking buddy of mine. I didn't remember his name, but he remembered me from one of the places that I'd mentioned I used to drink in, and I do remember his face. Whatever else comes out of this service I was privileged to give, he had a friendly, familiar face telling him that I was able, with the help of AA, to quit drinking, and that he could, too. That's more than enough. That's what we do. We save each other's lives, one drunk at a time.
There was one thing I didn't remember to say that I'd intended to say. Since my higher power had other words for me then, I'll do it here. When I was very early in sobriety, there was one sentence in the Big Book that made a real impression. It's the beginning of "How it Works" and it's read in most AA meetings.
"Rarely have we seen a person fail who has thoroughly followed our path." That's quite a claim, and one that I disputed myself the first time I "tried" AA. I was sure AA wouldn't work for me, so I kept on drinking. When I came back in, I turned it over and over in my mind. "Rarely have we seen a person fail, who has thoroughly followed our path."
Is it always easy? No. Life can be hard, and getting sober can be, too. But it's a lot easier than the road I was on before I began to thoroughly follow in the steps of other recovering alcoholics. Don't drink, go to meetings, get a sponsor, read the Big Book, work 12 simple steps, and keep working them. Does it work? Yes, yes it does. Is it worth it? More than I can ever say.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Tis the Season
I probably will get coal in my stocking this year, because I've been a very bad blogger. It seems like just yesterday when I was skipping my regular posting so I could finish painting the living room and host Thanksgiving. Now here I am barreling headlong into the Christmas season and I've had to force myself to sit down and write.
If the size of the meetings I attend is any indication, Christmas can be a tough time for alcoholics. Personally, I would never have chosen to get sober right before the holidays. There was too much excused drinking to be done. Plenty of time to sober up in January. Not that I ever did.
When I was growing up, I felt intense pressure for holidays to be "perfect". They never were. What happened was this:
On Christmas Eve, the whole family would go to the midnight candlelight service, sing carols, hear the Christmas gospel, and see our friends. We'd go home filled with the magic of Christmas, and love for our fellow man on this most miraculous of occasions. We kids would go to bed and try to sleep. Our parents would stay up to play Santa.
In the morning, we'd open our presents. They were always good ones, because my parents were big on wish-fulfillment. Then we'd go to Grandma's house for dinner and more presents. The adults would sit around and drink while we played with our new treasures. Then we'd go home and play with our other presents. The adults would drink some more. Well-lubricated, one of them would say something passive-aggressive, or criticize the other for behavior or comments at the family dinner and it was off to the races.
I cannot remember a single Christmas in my birth home that did not end in a huge drunken fight. All the wonderful feelings and the excitement and joy were banished in a hail of ugly words, threats and drunken sneers. Alcohol had stolen my Christmas as surely as if I'd done it myself. And, as a child, I certainly thought that there was something I could have done to prevent it.
The long term affect of these Norman Rockwell moments gone Picasso was for me to move heaven and earth to make Christmas perfect for the family I eventually formed. No one was allowed to be unhappy, or to disagree on that special day. I spent money I didn't have, gave up sleep I sorely needed, and walked on eggshells until the holiday was past and I could devolve into my normal dysfunctional self. As a result, I was a ball of tightly wound rubber bands from mid-November until December 26th every year for almost all of them.
Until I got sober, the last fifteen Christmases were dedicated to getting as drunk as I could and still getting the presents under the tree. The pressure finally got to me and the only way I could deal with Christmas was to be as lit up as it was. One year, everything I wrapped was just rolled in a length of paper and twisted at the ends because I couldn't fold the corners, even on books. There are people reading this who probably remember barely legible Christmas cards. I have beautiful handwriting, but when I'm drunk, a pharmacist couldn't decipher my inebriated scrawls. Fun times.
The good news is that today Christmas is just another day. When I live my life one day at a time, I'm too busy with today to worry about making things perfect. I can't project and expect too much, because it invites my disease in. I make a simple plan, and try to remain flexible enough to allow for life to get in the way and change things. When things do change, I go with it, knowing that I'm not the director anymore. It isn't my job to make Christmas perfect, not for me, or for anyone else in my life. It's my job to do the next right thing, and I often don't know what that is until it's right in front of me.
I'm not perfect at that, either. I procrastinate about writing this blog, waiting for my Higher Power to give me inspiration. But my Higher Power can't type. It's my fingers that roam across the keyboard.
Keep it simple, in life, and especially on Christmas. I wish you all the blessings of the season.
If the size of the meetings I attend is any indication, Christmas can be a tough time for alcoholics. Personally, I would never have chosen to get sober right before the holidays. There was too much excused drinking to be done. Plenty of time to sober up in January. Not that I ever did.
When I was growing up, I felt intense pressure for holidays to be "perfect". They never were. What happened was this:
On Christmas Eve, the whole family would go to the midnight candlelight service, sing carols, hear the Christmas gospel, and see our friends. We'd go home filled with the magic of Christmas, and love for our fellow man on this most miraculous of occasions. We kids would go to bed and try to sleep. Our parents would stay up to play Santa.
In the morning, we'd open our presents. They were always good ones, because my parents were big on wish-fulfillment. Then we'd go to Grandma's house for dinner and more presents. The adults would sit around and drink while we played with our new treasures. Then we'd go home and play with our other presents. The adults would drink some more. Well-lubricated, one of them would say something passive-aggressive, or criticize the other for behavior or comments at the family dinner and it was off to the races.
I cannot remember a single Christmas in my birth home that did not end in a huge drunken fight. All the wonderful feelings and the excitement and joy were banished in a hail of ugly words, threats and drunken sneers. Alcohol had stolen my Christmas as surely as if I'd done it myself. And, as a child, I certainly thought that there was something I could have done to prevent it.
The long term affect of these Norman Rockwell moments gone Picasso was for me to move heaven and earth to make Christmas perfect for the family I eventually formed. No one was allowed to be unhappy, or to disagree on that special day. I spent money I didn't have, gave up sleep I sorely needed, and walked on eggshells until the holiday was past and I could devolve into my normal dysfunctional self. As a result, I was a ball of tightly wound rubber bands from mid-November until December 26th every year for almost all of them.
Until I got sober, the last fifteen Christmases were dedicated to getting as drunk as I could and still getting the presents under the tree. The pressure finally got to me and the only way I could deal with Christmas was to be as lit up as it was. One year, everything I wrapped was just rolled in a length of paper and twisted at the ends because I couldn't fold the corners, even on books. There are people reading this who probably remember barely legible Christmas cards. I have beautiful handwriting, but when I'm drunk, a pharmacist couldn't decipher my inebriated scrawls. Fun times.
The good news is that today Christmas is just another day. When I live my life one day at a time, I'm too busy with today to worry about making things perfect. I can't project and expect too much, because it invites my disease in. I make a simple plan, and try to remain flexible enough to allow for life to get in the way and change things. When things do change, I go with it, knowing that I'm not the director anymore. It isn't my job to make Christmas perfect, not for me, or for anyone else in my life. It's my job to do the next right thing, and I often don't know what that is until it's right in front of me.
I'm not perfect at that, either. I procrastinate about writing this blog, waiting for my Higher Power to give me inspiration. But my Higher Power can't type. It's my fingers that roam across the keyboard.
Keep it simple, in life, and especially on Christmas. I wish you all the blessings of the season.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
On Opinions
One of my good friends in AA likes to call AA "Opinions Anonymous". After attending meetings on a daily basis for over a year, I can certainly see why he says that. Nearly everyone in the rooms has an opinion on how exactly to work the program, and it's generally based on their own experience, or lack thereof.
For instance, today, a man who is not self-identified as an alcoholic spoke up to ask a question in meeting. This man has been attending AA meetings on what my sponsor calls "the scholarship program". In other words, he's been nudged by the judge. He had, through observation in his alcohol education classes, formed the opinion that alcoholics drink because they are bored and if they'd just all get hobbies, everything would be lollipops and puppy dogs. He then went on to describe his hobbies. I will take a moment to note that, in spite of this man's hobbies, he still managed to get a DUI and a jail sentence for drinking and driving.
Now, because I'm all enlightened and shit, I do understand that it's very likely that this man is in denial about his own alcoholism. Very few people cross the threshold of an AA room by accident, even the ones sent there by the court. But it does highlight for me the very real fact that alcoholism is a disease which is very poorly understood by the general public, alcoholic or not.
As anyone who has been to an AA meeting can imagine, this man was quickly disabused of the laughable notion that alcoholics drink out of boredom and lack of hobbies. Fortunately, this meeting has a large contingent of people with good sobriety in it, so they were kind and informative, but it could have gotten ugly and cruel. It is not, after all, Well Peoples Anonymous.
I did not drink out of boredom. I have more hobbies than a toad has warts. I sewed, crocheting and needle-pointed while shit-faced. I read and wrote while hammered. Hell, I hammered and operated power tools when I shouldn't have been trusted with anything more dangerous than a pillow. I drove, climbed ladders, parented, bailed people out of jail, talked to cops, danced, streaked, screamed, cried, laughed, went to the DMV, went to work, church, weddings and funerals, you name it, all while intoxicated. In short, if it could be done while awake, I did it drunk.
A true alcoholic does not need an excuse to get drunk. I got drunk even when I didn't want to get drunk. I couldn't help myself.
This isn't the first time this man has proffered an uninformed opinion at a meeting I've attended. It's my opinion that he's looking for explanations for his own behavior which don't include the idea that he's an alcoholic. It's my hope that he'll keep coming back until he gets the answer that he needs, whatever that may be.
But for those of us who already know we're alcoholics, there's only one place to go to get answers, and that's the Big Book. The 12 Steps are the answer to all our dilemmas and questions about our disease, no matter what our experiences. It's also the place to go to resolve our opinions. It doesn't always give us the answer we want, but it does give us the answer we need.
For instance, today, a man who is not self-identified as an alcoholic spoke up to ask a question in meeting. This man has been attending AA meetings on what my sponsor calls "the scholarship program". In other words, he's been nudged by the judge. He had, through observation in his alcohol education classes, formed the opinion that alcoholics drink because they are bored and if they'd just all get hobbies, everything would be lollipops and puppy dogs. He then went on to describe his hobbies. I will take a moment to note that, in spite of this man's hobbies, he still managed to get a DUI and a jail sentence for drinking and driving.
Now, because I'm all enlightened and shit, I do understand that it's very likely that this man is in denial about his own alcoholism. Very few people cross the threshold of an AA room by accident, even the ones sent there by the court. But it does highlight for me the very real fact that alcoholism is a disease which is very poorly understood by the general public, alcoholic or not.
As anyone who has been to an AA meeting can imagine, this man was quickly disabused of the laughable notion that alcoholics drink out of boredom and lack of hobbies. Fortunately, this meeting has a large contingent of people with good sobriety in it, so they were kind and informative, but it could have gotten ugly and cruel. It is not, after all, Well Peoples Anonymous.
I did not drink out of boredom. I have more hobbies than a toad has warts. I sewed, crocheting and needle-pointed while shit-faced. I read and wrote while hammered. Hell, I hammered and operated power tools when I shouldn't have been trusted with anything more dangerous than a pillow. I drove, climbed ladders, parented, bailed people out of jail, talked to cops, danced, streaked, screamed, cried, laughed, went to the DMV, went to work, church, weddings and funerals, you name it, all while intoxicated. In short, if it could be done while awake, I did it drunk.
A true alcoholic does not need an excuse to get drunk. I got drunk even when I didn't want to get drunk. I couldn't help myself.
This isn't the first time this man has proffered an uninformed opinion at a meeting I've attended. It's my opinion that he's looking for explanations for his own behavior which don't include the idea that he's an alcoholic. It's my hope that he'll keep coming back until he gets the answer that he needs, whatever that may be.
But for those of us who already know we're alcoholics, there's only one place to go to get answers, and that's the Big Book. The 12 Steps are the answer to all our dilemmas and questions about our disease, no matter what our experiences. It's also the place to go to resolve our opinions. It doesn't always give us the answer we want, but it does give us the answer we need.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
The Hocus-Pocus Step
There's nothing quite like working with others to clarify and reinforce the 12 Steps. I've been working with my new sponsee, and we've just started the third step. It reads as follows: "We made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God, as we understood him."
For those who know me, I'm sure it is at least mildly shocking to learn that I have taken this step. My dear husband asked, "You're not going all religious on me, are you?" I answered, "Not likely." And it's not. There's not one whit of religion in this step. There is only faith that the universe will provide me with exactly what I need, even (or especially) if I don't know what that is.
When I first encountered this step, all my attention was focused on the "turn our will and our lives over to the care of God". I had over fifty years of self-will behind me and the idea of giving away my will, especially to some nebulous god-creature, was impossible. Sure, I'd made some bad decisions and some of my thinking was messed up, but hadn't I made some very good decisions? Hadn't I had some very good thinking, too? What about all that?
I struggled with this mightily, but the context of this struggle was telling. You see, I was working my third step in jail. My self-will run riot had landed me there and my life was a mess. So, no matter how much I liked to think I was doing a good job running my life, there was strong evidence to the contrary.
Still, as a thinking being, I am all about the proof. If this step was going to do something for me, I would have to try it on for size. I could always take my will and my life back later if it didn't work out. I began saying the Third Step Prayer* over and over again. Sometimes I shortened it to, "Please help me get out of my own way."
I call this step the Hocus-Pocus Step, because when I was starting to work it, that's exactly what it seemed like, hocus-pocus. I'd just turn all this stuff over, and *poof*, like magic, life would take care of itself without me. No more projecting, expecting, scheming and manipulating to make life turn out the way I thought it best would. Hrumph. Unlikely, right? Nevertheless, I "made a decision" and stepped back to see what would happen.
What happened was nothing short of miraculous. As soon as I got out of the way and took the role of observer, I started seeing all the crap that I'd been carrying around, all the responsibility I shouldered for things outside of my control, all the guilt I'd manufactured over my transgressions, real and imagined, all the shame over behavior that was the unavoidable symptomology of my disease, and all the crap that wasn't even mine that I'd been lugging around. The sheer magnitude of it all was staggering. Who knew?
And that's when the real magic happened. As the observer, I could see how completely unnecessary all this pain I was causing myself was. I could see how mercilessly I'd battered myself over even the smallest imagined slight or disappointment. But, because I was now the actor, and not the director, I could also see that I didn't need this burden anymore, and I began to let go of it. I literally felt the weight of the world slip away from me. Before, I'd tried to drink it away, and only succeeded in covering it up for as long as I could remain hammered. Now I was truly free of it. I'd made the decision and gotten immediate results. What more could a self-involved, instant gratification junkie, egotistical narcissist with delusions of grandeur ask for?
One of the most important payoffs of this change was the promise in the Big Book that the desire for alcohol would lift. It did. Bear in mind, the drinking thoughts still come now and then. That's just my disease knocking, hoping I won't see it for what it is and let it in. But the desire is gone. Just like they promised, when I think about drinking now, I cringe and shudder. I "recoil as if from a hot flame". It's great. I don't have to fight anymore.
No, I don't have any statistical, scientific proof that will satisfy peer review. Except for me, and millions and millions of other recovered alcoholics who did just what I did and got just what I got. And that's enough.
*God, I offer myself to thee--to build with me and do with me as thou wilt. Relieve me of the bondage of self, that I may better do thy will. Take away my difficulties, that victory over them may bear witness to those I would help of thy power, thy love, and thy way of life. May I do thy will always!
For those who know me, I'm sure it is at least mildly shocking to learn that I have taken this step. My dear husband asked, "You're not going all religious on me, are you?" I answered, "Not likely." And it's not. There's not one whit of religion in this step. There is only faith that the universe will provide me with exactly what I need, even (or especially) if I don't know what that is.
When I first encountered this step, all my attention was focused on the "turn our will and our lives over to the care of God". I had over fifty years of self-will behind me and the idea of giving away my will, especially to some nebulous god-creature, was impossible. Sure, I'd made some bad decisions and some of my thinking was messed up, but hadn't I made some very good decisions? Hadn't I had some very good thinking, too? What about all that?
I struggled with this mightily, but the context of this struggle was telling. You see, I was working my third step in jail. My self-will run riot had landed me there and my life was a mess. So, no matter how much I liked to think I was doing a good job running my life, there was strong evidence to the contrary.
Still, as a thinking being, I am all about the proof. If this step was going to do something for me, I would have to try it on for size. I could always take my will and my life back later if it didn't work out. I began saying the Third Step Prayer* over and over again. Sometimes I shortened it to, "Please help me get out of my own way."
I call this step the Hocus-Pocus Step, because when I was starting to work it, that's exactly what it seemed like, hocus-pocus. I'd just turn all this stuff over, and *poof*, like magic, life would take care of itself without me. No more projecting, expecting, scheming and manipulating to make life turn out the way I thought it best would. Hrumph. Unlikely, right? Nevertheless, I "made a decision" and stepped back to see what would happen.
What happened was nothing short of miraculous. As soon as I got out of the way and took the role of observer, I started seeing all the crap that I'd been carrying around, all the responsibility I shouldered for things outside of my control, all the guilt I'd manufactured over my transgressions, real and imagined, all the shame over behavior that was the unavoidable symptomology of my disease, and all the crap that wasn't even mine that I'd been lugging around. The sheer magnitude of it all was staggering. Who knew?
And that's when the real magic happened. As the observer, I could see how completely unnecessary all this pain I was causing myself was. I could see how mercilessly I'd battered myself over even the smallest imagined slight or disappointment. But, because I was now the actor, and not the director, I could also see that I didn't need this burden anymore, and I began to let go of it. I literally felt the weight of the world slip away from me. Before, I'd tried to drink it away, and only succeeded in covering it up for as long as I could remain hammered. Now I was truly free of it. I'd made the decision and gotten immediate results. What more could a self-involved, instant gratification junkie, egotistical narcissist with delusions of grandeur ask for?
One of the most important payoffs of this change was the promise in the Big Book that the desire for alcohol would lift. It did. Bear in mind, the drinking thoughts still come now and then. That's just my disease knocking, hoping I won't see it for what it is and let it in. But the desire is gone. Just like they promised, when I think about drinking now, I cringe and shudder. I "recoil as if from a hot flame". It's great. I don't have to fight anymore.
No, I don't have any statistical, scientific proof that will satisfy peer review. Except for me, and millions and millions of other recovered alcoholics who did just what I did and got just what I got. And that's enough.
*God, I offer myself to thee--to build with me and do with me as thou wilt. Relieve me of the bondage of self, that I may better do thy will. Take away my difficulties, that victory over them may bear witness to those I would help of thy power, thy love, and thy way of life. May I do thy will always!
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