I will ry to keep things in perspective in terms of importance. Keep a clear head and don’t get sidetracked by emotional drama.
For example, if closing the door to the microwave wakes someone up, how important is it? The person we woke up should ask him/herself, “Is it worth having a fight over?” The people most vulnerable to this slogan sometimes just thrive on the drama. Don’t buy into it.
Move on, distract, find a healthier and larger perspective. We can get so bogged down in pettiness that we stop seeing the larger picture. Today I will try to remember what’s most important in my life—getting along with my partner—and do what I must to protect that.
Let Go and Let God (p. 28, 95, 107, 125131,n163, 220, 294, 361) “Every day there are decisions to be made and problems to be solved. When we notice irritations growing into tensions, tensions into near-panic, and old fears returning, it is time to stop and turn to God. We find that when we supply the willingness, He supplies to power.”
Remember, “our best thinking got us into the rooms.” In other words, our minds can be dangerous places to go without some help. In Al-Anon we turn to a Higher Power. It can be God, a tree, or the group itself. As long as it’s not just us. Our egos and willfulness can blind us so much to taking a healthy course of action. And we’re just trying to help our children, so it’s easy to rationalize and justify our actions. That’s where educating myself about the disease gripping my daughter has been so critical for me. Over time I finally accepted that I didn’t have the power to save her from her disease. That was a hard pill to swallow, but a necessary one. I learned to let go and concentrate on what I could control. That’s when I started to feel free and serene and able to move forward with my life. I wish the same for all my brothers and sisters in these rooms. God Bless!
When my ego is involved and there’s a calculated risk, I’m going to be gutsy, not courageous. It takes guts to ski a steep trail; I alone will be rewarded. Courage is different. There is always a parenthesis of fear in Courage; the risk becomes minor. This parenthesis remains a void of fear until it is filled by God. There is no ego in a courageous act. Courage can ask for help. It is often something done for someone else, or it may be something I am not attracted to doing at all. I may lose by doing it. The courageous act is often the unpopular choice, to do or not to do. The results are seldom only mine. It requires more of me than I want to think I can do, alone. After it is finished, gratitude to someone or something is usually in order. Courage requires a moral strength not of myself. This strength is given by faith.”
EGO—Easing God Out—is my enemy in many ways. It makes me willful and arrogant. It’s the great separator—of me from people, of me from God. When I let God back in again, my life and my relationships seem to work better. And God has always given me the courage to do what is difficult in relation to my daughter. My faith in Him has given me the strength to do what I believe is right, regardless of the consequences. I believe things are unfolding as they are meant to. When I surrender to this belief, I am at peace.
Recovery in the Program, time and the perspective it brings us, has given me a lot of new information. My own recovery has also graced me with a healthy amount of humility. I used to confuse humility with humiliation. I used to think that admitting my faults would produce shame in me and threaten my self-worth. But in recent years I have a different understanding of this word.
Having taken the Fourth Step (“Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves”), and later the Seventh Step (“Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings”), I began to see myself in a healthier light. I began to see myself in relation to my higher power. I am just a speck in the universe, no more, no less. This need to stay right-sized keeps me out of trouble. I’ve been playing God for much of my life. It doesn’t matter anymore why; what matters now is that I remain ever mindful of the amount of power I have over others and stop trying to play God with them. They have their own Higher Power, and I’m not It!
My recovery work over the years has brought me out of isolation and pushed me into the circle of love in this picture. I have learned many things in my recovery program, but the most important has been placing a greater value on my worth, my needs and my wants. Learning to set boundaries is another way to take care of myself, letting others know what is and what isn’t acceptable to me. This tool has made my relationships healthier. Without a daily practice of self-care, what shape am I in to interact with those around me?
“Progress, not perfection,” to be sure, and we all have bad days. But I’m grateful to have found a sound guide for living in my recovery program. It doesn’t take away the pain of struggling with my daughter throughout her substance use disorder. But it does offer coping strategies that encourage me to focus on what I can control in my life. No longer drained from fighting a battle I can’t win, I feel energized to move on and celebrate the blessings God has given me.
It’s all a matter of perspective. Attitude is everything.
“The idea of God is different in every person. The joy of my recovery was to find God within me. “ ~Angela Wozniak
One of the promises of 12-Step recovery is that we shall learn to be “happy, joyous and free.” I like the free part best. For too many years I’ve been chained to my own human failings. I never understood with such clarity my own defects and limitations until I started to work this Program. I was so lonely and isolated. But when I came to believe after much trial and error that I was in fact powerless over substance use disorder—mine, my daughter’s, and anyone else’s—I fell to my knees and turned this struggle over. And I felt so much lighter. Now, at last, I was off the hook. I’ve turned over all the lost years with my daughter and turned my attention to things I can control now. And that has given me the freedom to focus on other things.
My spirituality is based on three factors: far less EGO (Easing God Out), humble acceptance of whatever my lot is in life, and the vision to appreciate every day for all the good that I can see and experience. In this way, the principles of this Program have changed my life. It’s really great to be alive, and for so many years my life was utterly joyless. That’s the power of the spirit coming alive in me through my spiritual Program.
My shell collection is extensive and surprisingly sturdy. I’ve dragged them around with me from all my travels over the years. But I’ve run out of space to display them. And I wonder why I’ve collected so many. What have they represented to me? Maybe the assurance that something of me will be left behind.
Ego. Such a fundamental part of the human condition, the very thing that makes me human. And it’s my ego that has the power to separate me from God.
It’s ego that keeps me struggling in my relationships, ego that keeps me from accepting things as they are and feeling content with what I have. Ego and my willfulness beneath it that traps me in my restless search to outdo myself and others.
And it’s ego that makes me want to leave an imprint in the sand.
All human beings wrestle with ego, but substance users have found a solution that elevates them from their soul sickness: losing themselves in substances and behaviors that provide oblivion for a time. “We want what we want when we want it.” That tired old phrase smacking of egocentricity and immaturity.
Substance users in their disease are all about themselves. In Alcoholic’s Anonymous, one definition of an alcoholic is an egomaniac with low self-esteem.
To be “relieved of the bondage of self,” as the Third Step Prayer states in the Big Book, I’m learning how to nurture a relationship with God and remember my place in relation to him.
My importance is next to nothing in the scheme of things. This keeps me right-sized and humble.
“’Life does not need to mutilate itself in order to be pure’. ~Simone Weil
How terribly complicated we choose to make life’s many questions. Should we call a friend and apologize or wait for her call? Are the children getting the kind of care they must, right now? That “we came to believe in a power greater than ourselves” is often far from our thoughts when we most need it.
Our need to make all things perfect, to know all the answers, to control everything within our range creates problems where none really exist. And the more we focus on the problem we’ve created, the bigger it becomes.
The program offers us another way to approach life…We can learn to accept the things we cannot change, and change the things we can—with practice.”
My recovery requires hard work. But the result is beyond what I had ever imagined. White knuckling my way through life only made me miserable. I’m glad I chose to let go of my need to always be in charge and chose to have faith in something greater (and smarter) than me.
I will practice acceptance today. I will loosen my grip on the elements of my life and feel the color coming back to my knuckles. And the world will keep turning.
Annie was 21 when she surrendered to drug abuse. I should have seen it coming, but I didn’t. I was in denial, totally blindsided. I frantically sought answers, heaping much of the blame on myself, trying at times to be a firm and responsible parent, but always slipping back into my worst defects. My self-will was running riot, and I was making myself sick with PTSD, anxiety and clinical depression.
My obsession with saving her—my constant worrying—contributed bigtime to my downfall. I couldn’t let go of it. And it was so easy to justify it to myself: I love my daughter so much and I want to save her from herself. I won’t give up on her. I’ll do whatever it takes.
We are parents who love our children without exception. But our dilemma is not about love. It’s about the many stresses on that love that, in my case anyway, made me very sick. One of those stresses is worry. Too much of it can make us feel martyred, which is so passive. I was in a constant state of anxiety. And for what? It changed nothing.
These past many years striving toward recovery have slowly helped me feel worthy of being a better me and therefore worthy of having a better life. For me, that includes grieving in my own way around my daughter, while at the same time embracing all the love and joy in family members and good friends who stand by me always. It doesn’t include putting one foot in a future that hasn’t happened, weakening my footing in the present.
It’s a waste of time. And couldn’t I be doing something better for myself?
From Each Day A New Beginning, by Karen Casey, December 1:
“’And it isn’t the thing you do, dear, it’s the thing you leave undone which gives you a bit of a heartache at the setting of the sun.’ ~Margaret Sangster”
A quality many of us share, a very human quality, is to expect near perfection from ourselves, or to expect the impossible in all tasks done. I must rejoice for the good I do. Each time I pat myself on the back for a job well done, my confidence grows a little bit more. Recovery is best measured by my emotional and spiritual health, expressed in my confidence and trust in “the process.”
Creeping perfectionism is a strange form of self-sabotage. At first it seems like such a good and healthy attitude. But setting realistic goals and doing my best to achieve them is very different from placing unyielding demands on myself and feeling “less-than” if I fail to meet them.
It all boils down to being honest and knowing myself as I am, not as I think I should be. Knowing myself and coming away liking myself—well, for many of us, that’s a process that takes a long time. Holding onto realistic aspirations can be a healthy thing. But demanding perfection of myself and worse, punishing myself when I fall short, is not healthy. It’s a bitter tyrant holding a whip at my back.
Strong language, yes. But not as strong as the sting of that whip on my back. I’m happy to be free of it. I love my recovery fellowship where I’m just one in a community of equals, where I can mess up and they love me anyway. I’ve grown up in the rooms all these years and I’ve learned to love myself, warts and all. This is where I found my humanity. I am truly blessed and happy to be alive, now more than ever, as we join hands to strengthen our communities. Thank you, HP!