There was a new guy in my step meeting this morning. We were covering Step Eleven when it came his turn to read. He introduced himself as being brand new to AA, then proceeded to read a few paragraphs. Meanwhile, in the row ahead of him, I was suddenly time-traveling back to ten months ago when I was in the same meeting, covering the same step.
For those who don't know it, the eleventh step reads simply, "sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God, praying only for knowledge of God's will for us and the power to carry that out." There's a reason it's the eleventh step and not one of the earlier ones. It's pretty heavy stuff for a newcomer, especially if that newcomer isn't particularly religious, or even anti-religious. If you read the material we cover in the step meeting, the 12 Steps and 12 Traditions of Alcoholics Anonymous, it is heavier still, rife with the religious overtones often used to convey important concepts in the time of Bill W(1930s).
Five years ago, when I tried AA for the first time, I let God drive me out of the rooms. You see, when I was a teenager, my older brother found Jesus. When he does something, there is no such thing as restraint or moderation. So he began a mission to "save" me, even though I was already a professed born-again Christian at the time. What he succeeded in doing was driving me away from Christianity altogether. By the time I was a full-blown alcoholic, there was no way I was going to try anything that mentioned God as much as it is mentioned in AA, God of my understanding or not. The courts had a different idea, however, and I was forced to give it a shot.
Because of my early experiences, I almost literally couldn't hear anything anyone in AA was saying except "God". And that was not for me. I now know that that was what my disease used to keep me drinking. If it hadn't been God that made me quit AA, it would have been something else, because I purely wasn't ready to quit drinking.
This time I was ready. In fact, I decided that I was going to get sober in spite of God. I was going to prove that a die-hard agnostic could get sober without any spiritual beliefs whatsoever. So, I did what they told me to do, and I just said the prayers, not investing any particular meaning in them, and I made contact with my "higher power"(which really wasn't anything at all). They told me that the only thing I needed to know about God was that I wasn't it. That much I could accept, and I went with it.
Funny thing is, stuff started happening. Skeptical, scientific-minded person that I am, I wrote it off as coincidence, but I kept doing what they told me to do. I thanked my "higher power" when I went to bed at night, and I asked for guidance in the morning. Coincidence upon coincidence piled up. I met people when I needed to, I heard things I needed to hear at the exact moment I needed to hear them, I found the perfect piece of writing to fit my phase of development, the person I'd been praying for got sober, and on and on and on.
For skeptical, scientific types like myself, there comes a point when we can no longer write off as coincidental things which happen reliably. Repeatability is one of the maxims of good science and this stuff was happening to me all the time. Early on, one of my new friends in program told me that I was more spiritual than I could ever imagine, and, if I was a scientist, I should prove it to myself. I did, and I did.
I can no longer say truthfully that I have no belief in a higher power. When I let my higher power be in charge of my outcomes, I get way better results than when I try to direct my own life. I also have scads less stress and confusion about what I'm supposed to be doing.
This past weekend I was on an AA retreat and had repeatedly interesting conversations about the nature of spirituality with a like-minded fellow. I knew I was going to blog when I got home, but I hadn't decided on a topic. Then I went to the meeting this morning and got my little flashback. I had things to say in the meeting, but others were more ready to share, so I listened. When the meeting ended, I proceeded on to do my errands for the day, still pondering a blog topic while driving. Until it hit me. Sometimes I'm stubbornly obtuse. But my higher power didn't have to do anything too terribly drastic to get some blog space.
I still don't call my higher power God. To me, the word is too limiting, and liable to evoke preconceived notions in others. But I certainly have one. And I have a lot of contact with it, conscious and not-so-conscious. We're also developing a pretty good relationship, as long as I let it take the lead. At least it didn't have to break my arm this time.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
When enough is enough
Those who are not alcoholics often have a hard time understanding how the mind of an alcoholic works. It seems perfectly obvious to them that alcohol is a problem for the problem drinker and they just cannot get why the alcoholic can't see it. It's easy to understand this disconnect. Trying to explain alcoholism to a non-alcoholic is like trying to explain full-spectrum color sight to the color-blind.
My husband is color blind. He tells me that the grass we both see looks orange to him. How can it look orange? It's green. They are two completely different colors to my eyes. Living in a primarily orange world seems like science fiction to me. To him, it's all he's ever known. While he theoretically understands that I see something else, he's never seen the color green, so he can't even imagine what I see. I, on the other hand, have seen orange, so I can at least try to visualize it.
Similarly, I try to explain what alcohol does to me to someone without alcoholism, but they have to take my word for what I tell them. They've never felt it for themselves. I can picture life without this problem because I didn't always drink. It seems foreign to me now, because my disease is progressive and I can't go back to what I was before. It can only get worse.
Before I joined AA, there was a hole in my psyche. I tried to fill it with alcohol. I poured as much alcohol into it as my physical body could stand, but the hole was never filled. A normal person might have given up and tried something else. But my disease just tells me that I must not have drunk enough. I wanted to drink it all, every last drop of alcohol that ever was. There were times, when I was very drunk, that I would realize that there would always be more alcohol than I could ever consume, and I'd say that I had to quit. But the next day would come and there would be more alcohol, and well, I'm just not a quitter, you know?
When I first quit, I wasn't quitting for good. I didn't want to quit. But I did want to try to quit, and give it an honest try. I was willing. Something was wrong with me, and I wanted to know what it was so that I could fix it and go back to drinking, only like other people did. I could not wrap my mind around a future without alcohol in it.
For me, because I was trying hard to learn what AA was teaching me, and I was trying hard to be honest with myself for the first time in my life, it wasn't long before the sad fact that I was powerless over alcohol dawned on me. It was the lowest point in my life. There was something I could not do that most other people could. And I had to surrender to that idea, or die in denial.
The good news is that, once I really did face up to my alcoholism, life got better. For me, it got better very fast. What a relief to know that it was beyond my control. There was truly nothing I could do about it. At all. If I was going to live, I was going to have to stop trying to quit and let someone/something else do it for me.
At the time, I didn't realize how brave it was of me to literally put my fate in the hands of something I didn't understand and didn't even know if it existed. But I was scared and I did it anyway, so it was a brave act. I did know that other people had done it, people just like me, so I knew it worked, somehow, and it might work for me, too. I took my mustard seed of faith and rode it for all it was worth.
Today, I have a better understanding of the ego, and in particular, the alcoholic ego that is always with me but is not "me". I am not my disease anymore than I am my finger. It is part of the makeup of my psyche and my physiology, and if the real me, the sober me, does not pay attention and let this thing that works work, I can be lost again, very quickly.
So, I have to stay in the now. I can look at the past for instruction, and I can look to the future as a rough guide, but I have to live my life in this very moment. It's all I have, and it's a tremendous gift to be able to do this. If I don't, I will die. But as long as I do, I'm living a life that is greater than I ever could have imagined. I live in a world where enough is enough, no matter what it is, because I know for a certainty that I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.
My husband is color blind. He tells me that the grass we both see looks orange to him. How can it look orange? It's green. They are two completely different colors to my eyes. Living in a primarily orange world seems like science fiction to me. To him, it's all he's ever known. While he theoretically understands that I see something else, he's never seen the color green, so he can't even imagine what I see. I, on the other hand, have seen orange, so I can at least try to visualize it.
Similarly, I try to explain what alcohol does to me to someone without alcoholism, but they have to take my word for what I tell them. They've never felt it for themselves. I can picture life without this problem because I didn't always drink. It seems foreign to me now, because my disease is progressive and I can't go back to what I was before. It can only get worse.
Before I joined AA, there was a hole in my psyche. I tried to fill it with alcohol. I poured as much alcohol into it as my physical body could stand, but the hole was never filled. A normal person might have given up and tried something else. But my disease just tells me that I must not have drunk enough. I wanted to drink it all, every last drop of alcohol that ever was. There were times, when I was very drunk, that I would realize that there would always be more alcohol than I could ever consume, and I'd say that I had to quit. But the next day would come and there would be more alcohol, and well, I'm just not a quitter, you know?
When I first quit, I wasn't quitting for good. I didn't want to quit. But I did want to try to quit, and give it an honest try. I was willing. Something was wrong with me, and I wanted to know what it was so that I could fix it and go back to drinking, only like other people did. I could not wrap my mind around a future without alcohol in it.
For me, because I was trying hard to learn what AA was teaching me, and I was trying hard to be honest with myself for the first time in my life, it wasn't long before the sad fact that I was powerless over alcohol dawned on me. It was the lowest point in my life. There was something I could not do that most other people could. And I had to surrender to that idea, or die in denial.
The good news is that, once I really did face up to my alcoholism, life got better. For me, it got better very fast. What a relief to know that it was beyond my control. There was truly nothing I could do about it. At all. If I was going to live, I was going to have to stop trying to quit and let someone/something else do it for me.
At the time, I didn't realize how brave it was of me to literally put my fate in the hands of something I didn't understand and didn't even know if it existed. But I was scared and I did it anyway, so it was a brave act. I did know that other people had done it, people just like me, so I knew it worked, somehow, and it might work for me, too. I took my mustard seed of faith and rode it for all it was worth.
Today, I have a better understanding of the ego, and in particular, the alcoholic ego that is always with me but is not "me". I am not my disease anymore than I am my finger. It is part of the makeup of my psyche and my physiology, and if the real me, the sober me, does not pay attention and let this thing that works work, I can be lost again, very quickly.
So, I have to stay in the now. I can look at the past for instruction, and I can look to the future as a rough guide, but I have to live my life in this very moment. It's all I have, and it's a tremendous gift to be able to do this. If I don't, I will die. But as long as I do, I'm living a life that is greater than I ever could have imagined. I live in a world where enough is enough, no matter what it is, because I know for a certainty that I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Tolerance, understanding and love are the watchwords
All of us saw, for example, that we lacked honesty and tolerance, that we were beset at times by attacks of self-pity or delusions of personal grandeur.
--12&12, pg. 58, Chapter Five
Before I entered the rooms of AA, I considered myself to be a fairly tolerant person. I thought, compared to many others I'd read about or observed, that I was open-minded, generally kind, and understanding. But was I really?
The kicker of the above thought was "compared to many others". When I started trying to be truly honest with myself, as is prescribed in the program, I realized that how I rated myself was just that, a rating. On a scale of one hundred, I might be, oh, an 82 on the tolerance scale. The problem was that, instead of holding myself to the highest standard possible, regardless of the ideas and actions of others, I was excusing myself by giving myself a B in the tolerance division.
I discovered that it's easy to be tolerant when I'm in agreement with someone, or when they aren't presenting me with personal difficulties. But personal difficulties are just that--personal. When I have a problem with a person or a situation, it's MY problem, not theirs. And it's up to me to come up with a solution if I'm going to live in anything like a state of serenity.
The longer I'm sober, the more depth this challenge takes on. If I'm truly honest with myself, there's a lot of intolerance in me. I'm intolerant of what I believe to be rampant ignorance, or political adversity, or even my next-door neighbor's lawn fetish. I catch resentments wherever I go, for being cut off in traffic, having a rude guest at work, or an unruly child in my field of vision. I even take on resentments for situations that don't even affect me, such as book-burnings, unfair treatment of a friend, or a downturn in the labor stats.
I'm taught in AA that it is progress we seek, not perfection. I take this suggestion because I'm human and I'll never be perfect, so I must accept this thing I cannot change. However, with progress as my goal, I also have to find the courage to change the things I can. If I'm rigorously honest, I think I can do better than 82% tolerant.
What that means for me is taking a closer look at the things I don't currently tolerate. It doesn't mean I have to like those things, or even necessarily agree with them. It does mean I have to reach for greater understanding and sympathy, if not empathy.
I like to say we're all human beings walking around in our own skins. Sometimes it's hard to remember that everyone I meet has their own internal dialogue, full of self, thoughts, feelings, ideas and misapprehensions, just like me. We don't all have access to all the data, ever. That's what our Higher Power is for. If I were in charge of outcomes, this would be one messed up world, because I don't have all the facts.
So my goal for today, and it is always "today", is to find the courage to be tolerant when it isn't quite so easy. Let's call it my 83% solution.
Peace...it's not just a noun.
Monday, August 16, 2010
My higher power got me arrested and broke my arm. Now he wants me to be a Cowboys fan.
I shit you not. An old hymn says "God works in a mysterious way his wonders to perform." Well, my higher power's name isn't "God", it's Harold. (Our Father, who art in heaven, Harold be thy name.) And Harold is nothing if not mysterious. But he loves me, and he has some pretty weird ways to show it.
Harold wanted me to get sober. But I'm stubborn, and Harold knows that, so he had to get creative(which he is, naturally, quite good at). Harold also knows I'm a "fixer", so when one of my friends was in trouble, he got her to ask me out for a drink to talk about it. I didn't usually go out to drink because I didn't want to drink and drive. But I have a hard time saying no to a friend in need, and back then, when it was coupled with drinking, there was no way I could say no.
We drank, we talked, she went home with her designated driver, and I got behind the wheel of my truck. Harold then put my neighbor, a local police officer, behind me on my way home. And Harold got me arrested for drinking and driving. Coincidence? I think not. It was the only way he could get my attention, and by Harold, he got it. Within two weeks' time, my stubborn butt was in an AA meeting and I was on my way.
Now, you'd think that, having gotten me sober and completely committed to my recovery, Harold would be satisfied with that. But no. Harold wanted to make sure I got to a meeting every day, so he broke my arm. You see, Harold knows I don't like to exercise. So, when he saw my plan to ride a bicycle to my AA meetings every day, he laughed. He knew full well that it would be hard enough to get me there every day without me relying on bicycle power and good weather. Plus, I was working, so I probably wasn't going to give my full attention to my sobriety. So, he broke my arm. Yup, he put me on that hill going too fast on a bicycle I'd barely ridden and let me ride myself right into a ditch. Voila, instant two month vacation with nothing to do but go to meetings.
Again, you'd think Harold would be satisfied. But Harold didn't just want me to get sober, he wanted the friend I went to help that day to get sober, too. And he wants me to be a Cowboys fan. Why? Well, there are millions of people who will tell you that Harold is a Cowboys fan. And so is my friend.
So, this week, my friend decided to try to get sober and she called me. I gave her what encouragement I could, and she checked into a hospital. All this week we've been talking, and I've promised to help her in any way I can. All this week in meetings I've been talking about my friend and asking for help in order to better help her. And all week people have been asking me if I have a sponsor.
Until today, I was between sponsors. Today my friend is getting out of the hospital. And today, of all days, the one woman I really thought would be a good sponsor for me showed up at a meeting with *her* sponsor, who lives in Texas. And the woman I wanted as my sponsor told me that she came to the meeting today because she wanted to see me and introduce me to her sponsor. So, I asked her, and now she's my sponsor.
My sponsor is from Texas, and she is a lifelong Cowboys fan. Her sponsor is not only a Cowboys fan, but, without breaking her anonymity, she knows the head football coach of the Dallas Cowboys extremely well. Now, I don't know how many of these sorts of coincidences have to happen for it to stop being mere coincidence, but for me, it's not this many. My sponsor, my grandsponsor, and my newly sober friend are all Cowboys fans, and I'm without a team. Harold clearly wants my friend to get sober and me to have a sponsor. And he wants it to happen with the Cowboys. So, go Cowboys! And go Harold! You're an amazing guy.
Harold wanted me to get sober. But I'm stubborn, and Harold knows that, so he had to get creative(which he is, naturally, quite good at). Harold also knows I'm a "fixer", so when one of my friends was in trouble, he got her to ask me out for a drink to talk about it. I didn't usually go out to drink because I didn't want to drink and drive. But I have a hard time saying no to a friend in need, and back then, when it was coupled with drinking, there was no way I could say no.
We drank, we talked, she went home with her designated driver, and I got behind the wheel of my truck. Harold then put my neighbor, a local police officer, behind me on my way home. And Harold got me arrested for drinking and driving. Coincidence? I think not. It was the only way he could get my attention, and by Harold, he got it. Within two weeks' time, my stubborn butt was in an AA meeting and I was on my way.
Now, you'd think that, having gotten me sober and completely committed to my recovery, Harold would be satisfied with that. But no. Harold wanted to make sure I got to a meeting every day, so he broke my arm. You see, Harold knows I don't like to exercise. So, when he saw my plan to ride a bicycle to my AA meetings every day, he laughed. He knew full well that it would be hard enough to get me there every day without me relying on bicycle power and good weather. Plus, I was working, so I probably wasn't going to give my full attention to my sobriety. So, he broke my arm. Yup, he put me on that hill going too fast on a bicycle I'd barely ridden and let me ride myself right into a ditch. Voila, instant two month vacation with nothing to do but go to meetings.
Again, you'd think Harold would be satisfied. But Harold didn't just want me to get sober, he wanted the friend I went to help that day to get sober, too. And he wants me to be a Cowboys fan. Why? Well, there are millions of people who will tell you that Harold is a Cowboys fan. And so is my friend.
So, this week, my friend decided to try to get sober and she called me. I gave her what encouragement I could, and she checked into a hospital. All this week we've been talking, and I've promised to help her in any way I can. All this week in meetings I've been talking about my friend and asking for help in order to better help her. And all week people have been asking me if I have a sponsor.
Until today, I was between sponsors. Today my friend is getting out of the hospital. And today, of all days, the one woman I really thought would be a good sponsor for me showed up at a meeting with *her* sponsor, who lives in Texas. And the woman I wanted as my sponsor told me that she came to the meeting today because she wanted to see me and introduce me to her sponsor. So, I asked her, and now she's my sponsor.
My sponsor is from Texas, and she is a lifelong Cowboys fan. Her sponsor is not only a Cowboys fan, but, without breaking her anonymity, she knows the head football coach of the Dallas Cowboys extremely well. Now, I don't know how many of these sorts of coincidences have to happen for it to stop being mere coincidence, but for me, it's not this many. My sponsor, my grandsponsor, and my newly sober friend are all Cowboys fans, and I'm without a team. Harold clearly wants my friend to get sober and me to have a sponsor. And he wants it to happen with the Cowboys. So, go Cowboys! And go Harold! You're an amazing guy.
Monday, July 26, 2010
The Number One Offender
Before I started getting sober, more than one person observed that I was an angry woman. These observations startled me. I didn't think I was particularly angry. Sure, things and people occasionally annoyed me, and, rarely, I thought, stirred me to resentment or out-and-out anger. But I didn't spend my day being pissed off at the world like some people I'd met.
When I joined AA, there came a time to take a personal inventory. I listed all the flaws that I knew I had, and all the purported reasons for continuing to indulge in those flaws. Early on, I did it just because it was expected of me. It was painful. No one likes to admit they aren't perfect, even if it is abundantly clear to themselves and those around them that such is the case. Once admitted, I then asked a Higher Power I didn't necessarily believe in to relieve me of those flaws and fill me with what that Power wanted me to have. All of this was done because I knew there were sober people walking around who said to do it, because it worked.
My rational mind didn't really think it would. It seemed like hocus-pocus of the highest order. But I had the gift of desperation at that point, and it certainly couldn't harm me to try it, could it?
At about the same time, I was also reading the Big Book, as I still do. It was there that I stumbled on the passage about anger and resentment, the dubious luxuries that inspired the title of this blog. It said:
It is plain that a life which includes deep resentment leads only to futility and unhappiness. To the precise extent that we permit these, do we squander the hours that might have been worthwhile. But with the alcoholic, whose hope is the maintenance and growth of a spiritual experience, this business of resentment is infinitely grave. We have found that it is fatal. For when harboring such feelings, we shut ourselves off from the sunshine of the spirit. The insanity of alcohol returns and we drink again. And with us, to drink is to die. (Alcoholics Anonymous, pg.66)
When I first read it, I didn't think it had particular relevance to me or my life, seeing as I didn't have any resentments to speak of. Still, it stayed with me, and I found myself drawn to the passage again and again as I grew in the program. They'd also told me that I'd shut myself off from my feelings, that the alcoholic eventually doesn't really feel, so, was it possible that I was angry and resentful and didn't even know it?
It was. Slowly, my feelings were coming back, and I was noticing them. Resentments big and small were becoming recognizable. By golly, I was an angry woman! What else had I lied to myself about all these years? First, the extent of my disorder, next that I had feelings, now, that those feelings included ones I'd been trained from earliest childhood to deny.
Now I do try to see my resentments as they crop up. Usually, they are justified. I tend to get angry and resentful about people and situations that appear to harm others, physically or emotionally. I try to see them so I can first, really feel them, and, second, turn them over, since they usually fall under the category of "things I can't change". So it is contingent on me to accept them and move on. I'm no longer the boss of the world, and it is rarely my responsibility, or even my business, to be offended on behalf of others.
As I grow more practiced at this, I find it easier to do, particularly with the small daily annoyances that I previously didn't even see. However, it seems much harder to do when the offense seems particularly grievous. Right now, I'm dealing with a resentment that has been niggling at me for some months. It is about a person I frequently see in the rooms who appears to be hell-bent on stirring the drama pot wherever he goes. I've tried muttering "principles before personalities" so many times I probably say it in my sleep. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't, but it has seemed to fall under the category of "small resentments". Until yesterday.
Yesterday, I found myself in a meeting with this person. When the meeting opened, a member who ordinarily doesn't bare his soul, let alone ask for help, told us that he was having trouble with his Higher Power because his mother was sick, and a loving God wouldn't do to her what was being done to her. Before a millisecond had elapsed, the person I have trouble with launched into one of the most unkind, unfeeling and truly cruel responses I have ever heard in a meeting. I wanted to jump out of my seat and put my foot firmly up his butt, since that seemed to be the source of his words. I didn't, of course, because it was not my place, and there were plenty of people lined up to do it for me. He was shot down in short order and left the meeting abruptly.
Since then, I've been trying to turn my resentment over. Harboring a resentment is like taking poison and expecting the other person to die. This person doesn't know I resent him, and if he did, it's doubtful that he would care. He's self-centered enough to think that he is right above all others, so our opinions matter little to him. So the person being harmed in this is, guess who? Me.
One of the beauties of the AA program is that I am given all the tools to deal with life, if I will only use them. One of the tools is a trick for overcoming resentments. I've been told to pray for the person I resent every day for 14 days. I'm not a big one for formal prayer, but I've certainly been known to shoot a thought or request out to the universe on occasion. So, I'm doing that now. This is day two, and already I'm starting to feel some clarity on this issue. I know this man is not well, and I must learn to view him as a sick person and hope that he can heal. It seemed impossible yesterday. Yesterday he was just an asshole. Today, he's coughing a little. Maybe twelve days from now, I'll see him for what he really is. But it's doing me a world of good in the process.
When I joined AA, there came a time to take a personal inventory. I listed all the flaws that I knew I had, and all the purported reasons for continuing to indulge in those flaws. Early on, I did it just because it was expected of me. It was painful. No one likes to admit they aren't perfect, even if it is abundantly clear to themselves and those around them that such is the case. Once admitted, I then asked a Higher Power I didn't necessarily believe in to relieve me of those flaws and fill me with what that Power wanted me to have. All of this was done because I knew there were sober people walking around who said to do it, because it worked.
My rational mind didn't really think it would. It seemed like hocus-pocus of the highest order. But I had the gift of desperation at that point, and it certainly couldn't harm me to try it, could it?
At about the same time, I was also reading the Big Book, as I still do. It was there that I stumbled on the passage about anger and resentment, the dubious luxuries that inspired the title of this blog. It said:
It is plain that a life which includes deep resentment leads only to futility and unhappiness. To the precise extent that we permit these, do we squander the hours that might have been worthwhile. But with the alcoholic, whose hope is the maintenance and growth of a spiritual experience, this business of resentment is infinitely grave. We have found that it is fatal. For when harboring such feelings, we shut ourselves off from the sunshine of the spirit. The insanity of alcohol returns and we drink again. And with us, to drink is to die. (Alcoholics Anonymous, pg.66)
When I first read it, I didn't think it had particular relevance to me or my life, seeing as I didn't have any resentments to speak of. Still, it stayed with me, and I found myself drawn to the passage again and again as I grew in the program. They'd also told me that I'd shut myself off from my feelings, that the alcoholic eventually doesn't really feel, so, was it possible that I was angry and resentful and didn't even know it?
It was. Slowly, my feelings were coming back, and I was noticing them. Resentments big and small were becoming recognizable. By golly, I was an angry woman! What else had I lied to myself about all these years? First, the extent of my disorder, next that I had feelings, now, that those feelings included ones I'd been trained from earliest childhood to deny.
Now I do try to see my resentments as they crop up. Usually, they are justified. I tend to get angry and resentful about people and situations that appear to harm others, physically or emotionally. I try to see them so I can first, really feel them, and, second, turn them over, since they usually fall under the category of "things I can't change". So it is contingent on me to accept them and move on. I'm no longer the boss of the world, and it is rarely my responsibility, or even my business, to be offended on behalf of others.
As I grow more practiced at this, I find it easier to do, particularly with the small daily annoyances that I previously didn't even see. However, it seems much harder to do when the offense seems particularly grievous. Right now, I'm dealing with a resentment that has been niggling at me for some months. It is about a person I frequently see in the rooms who appears to be hell-bent on stirring the drama pot wherever he goes. I've tried muttering "principles before personalities" so many times I probably say it in my sleep. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't, but it has seemed to fall under the category of "small resentments". Until yesterday.
Yesterday, I found myself in a meeting with this person. When the meeting opened, a member who ordinarily doesn't bare his soul, let alone ask for help, told us that he was having trouble with his Higher Power because his mother was sick, and a loving God wouldn't do to her what was being done to her. Before a millisecond had elapsed, the person I have trouble with launched into one of the most unkind, unfeeling and truly cruel responses I have ever heard in a meeting. I wanted to jump out of my seat and put my foot firmly up his butt, since that seemed to be the source of his words. I didn't, of course, because it was not my place, and there were plenty of people lined up to do it for me. He was shot down in short order and left the meeting abruptly.
Since then, I've been trying to turn my resentment over. Harboring a resentment is like taking poison and expecting the other person to die. This person doesn't know I resent him, and if he did, it's doubtful that he would care. He's self-centered enough to think that he is right above all others, so our opinions matter little to him. So the person being harmed in this is, guess who? Me.
One of the beauties of the AA program is that I am given all the tools to deal with life, if I will only use them. One of the tools is a trick for overcoming resentments. I've been told to pray for the person I resent every day for 14 days. I'm not a big one for formal prayer, but I've certainly been known to shoot a thought or request out to the universe on occasion. So, I'm doing that now. This is day two, and already I'm starting to feel some clarity on this issue. I know this man is not well, and I must learn to view him as a sick person and hope that he can heal. It seemed impossible yesterday. Yesterday he was just an asshole. Today, he's coughing a little. Maybe twelve days from now, I'll see him for what he really is. But it's doing me a world of good in the process.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Dubious Luxuries: The Beginning
A little over nine months ago, I drank what I hope was my last beer. After a series of unfortunate events, I finally decided to get real with myself and join the fellowship of Alcoholics Anonymous. It turned out to be the best decision of my life.
One of the first things I did was get a sponsor. One of the first things my sponsor told me to do was start keeping a journal. She had me writing three pages every morning, immediately upon awakening. Then I was to call her and read the pages to her. I hated it. I did it for three months, but I hated every minute of it.
It might seem odd that someone who is a self-described writer would have trouble with the simple task of journaling three pages a day, but these weren't just any old pages. This was a literal transcription of my thoughts, good, bad, indifferent, and unedited. Therein lay the rub. I was to turn off my internal editor and be rigorously honest, with myself, and with my sponsor. It was excruciating.
It was also key to breaking down my denial about myself, my drinking, and my life. My sponsor was a harsh task mistress, but she showed me how much of myself I was ignoring, how self-centered and unrealistic I was, and, I must admit, the good parts about me, too. For unrelated reasons, she's not my sponsor anymore. I quit journaling shortly after we parted ways. Now I realize that was a mistake.
Already I've started taking my sobriety for granted. I do try to practice the principles in all my affairs. I attend regular meetings. I read the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous. But if, as Socrates said, the unexamined life is not worth living, then I'm sliding down a slippery slope. Writing is how I have always examined my life, and on that front, I've been tremendously slack of late.
So, I'm taking a do-over and starting this blog. I named it "Dubious Luxuries" after the passage in the Big Book which says that anger and resentment are the dubious luxury of normal men (i.e. non-alcoholics) (1). I'm an alcoholic and I can't afford to let anything stand in the way of my sobriety, including staying silent about it when my entire identity revolves around writing. I've been known to entertain anger and resentment, as well as other dubious luxuries. It's my hope that this will be the place where I can shine light on those things and, as a consequence, move beyond them.
That's not to say that this blog will be all doom and gloom. That's not my nature. I love to laugh and to elicit laughter. So, I'll probably clown it up some, when the topic warrants it. But the primary purpose of this journal is to share my experience, strength and hope, first with myself, and then with those of you who read it. It's one more way for me to do my 12th step (2), many would argue, is the most important step after the first (3).
Welcome to my journal, and to my journey. Together, we can make the Promises (4) come true!
---
(1) Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous, pg. 66
(2) Step 12- Having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs. (Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous, pg. 60)
(3) Step 1- We admitted we were powerless over alcohol-- that our lives had become unmanageable. (Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous, pg. 59)
(4) Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous, pg. 83
One of the first things I did was get a sponsor. One of the first things my sponsor told me to do was start keeping a journal. She had me writing three pages every morning, immediately upon awakening. Then I was to call her and read the pages to her. I hated it. I did it for three months, but I hated every minute of it.
It might seem odd that someone who is a self-described writer would have trouble with the simple task of journaling three pages a day, but these weren't just any old pages. This was a literal transcription of my thoughts, good, bad, indifferent, and unedited. Therein lay the rub. I was to turn off my internal editor and be rigorously honest, with myself, and with my sponsor. It was excruciating.
It was also key to breaking down my denial about myself, my drinking, and my life. My sponsor was a harsh task mistress, but she showed me how much of myself I was ignoring, how self-centered and unrealistic I was, and, I must admit, the good parts about me, too. For unrelated reasons, she's not my sponsor anymore. I quit journaling shortly after we parted ways. Now I realize that was a mistake.
Already I've started taking my sobriety for granted. I do try to practice the principles in all my affairs. I attend regular meetings. I read the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous. But if, as Socrates said, the unexamined life is not worth living, then I'm sliding down a slippery slope. Writing is how I have always examined my life, and on that front, I've been tremendously slack of late.
So, I'm taking a do-over and starting this blog. I named it "Dubious Luxuries" after the passage in the Big Book which says that anger and resentment are the dubious luxury of normal men (i.e. non-alcoholics) (1). I'm an alcoholic and I can't afford to let anything stand in the way of my sobriety, including staying silent about it when my entire identity revolves around writing. I've been known to entertain anger and resentment, as well as other dubious luxuries. It's my hope that this will be the place where I can shine light on those things and, as a consequence, move beyond them.
That's not to say that this blog will be all doom and gloom. That's not my nature. I love to laugh and to elicit laughter. So, I'll probably clown it up some, when the topic warrants it. But the primary purpose of this journal is to share my experience, strength and hope, first with myself, and then with those of you who read it. It's one more way for me to do my 12th step (2), many would argue, is the most important step after the first (3).
Welcome to my journal, and to my journey. Together, we can make the Promises (4) come true!
---
(1) Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous, pg. 66
(2) Step 12- Having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs. (Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous, pg. 60)
(3) Step 1- We admitted we were powerless over alcohol-- that our lives had become unmanageable. (Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous, pg. 59)
(4) Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous, pg. 83
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