From Each Day A New Beginning, Karen Casey, CAL, July 20:
“’It is ironic that the one thing all religions recognize as separating us from our Creator—our very self-consciousness—is also the one thing that divides us from our fellow creatures.’ ~Annie Dillard
EGO: Edging God Out. A friend told me once that our ego is what separates us from God. And I didn’t know what she meant because I didn’t understand how our egos have the power to save us—but also have the power to destroy.
So as I’ve come to know myself within the comforting fellowship of many recovery rooms, I’ve started to see more, and more broadly, the concept of “self” and how it can be lovingly managed within the context of substance use recovery.
“This division from others, the barrier that keeps us apart, comes from our individual insecurities.” As Annie Dillard alludes to above, we need no longer make comparisons between ourselves and others. When we ignore our differences, and focus on what brings us together, we come to see ourselves, over time, as a wonderful community of equals. What separates us IS our ego, and thankfully with the First Step we have learned to tame that tricky beast before it gets in the way of our progress.
From Each Day A New Beginning, Karen Casey, CAL, July 19:
“’At fifteen life had taught me undeniably that surrender, in its place, was as honorable as resistance…’ ~Maya Angelou
Serenity isn’t compatible with struggle. We cannot control forces outside of ourselves. We cannot control the actions of our family or co-workers. We can control our responses to them. And when we choose to surrender our attempts to control, we will find peace and serenity.”
It’s always been so important to me to maintain a sense of control in my life. No matter how bad things got—from growing up in an alcoholic family, to watching my adult daughter lose herself in the hellish world of heroin addiction—I was certain that if I were in control on some level, the pain of it all would go away or, short of that, give me a sense of empowerment. I desperately sought a sense of power to distract me from my problems.
But looking to myself was not working. At that point in my life, the delusion that I had the power to fix anyone outside of myself started to collapse.
That’s when I broke down, and found “the gift of desperation.” I admitted I couldn’t exert my influence over anyone else, took that necessary leap of faith, and handed my burdens over to God. I stopped resisting. I loosened my grip.
I love my family and my daughter. But I’ve surrendered to the reality that there was only one person who I had the power to save at the end of the day: myself. And with my long history of substance use disorder, I had my work cut out for me. I placed the focus firmly back on myself and began, as I continue to begin anew every day, the long process of recovery.
“…the greatest paradox of all: absolute surrender in order to win.” ~Claire Demers
From Living Sober, AA World Services, Inc., p. 49:
“Many of us, when drinking, were deeply sure for years that our own drinking was harmless. We were not necessarily smart-alecky about it, but when we heard a clergyman, a psychiatrist, or an A.A. member talk about alcoholism, we were quick to observe that our drinking was different, that we did not need to do any of the things those people suggested. Or even if we could admit that we were having a bit of trouble with our drinking, we were sure we could lick it on our own. Thus we shut the door against new information and help. And behind that door, our drinking went on, of course.
Our troubles had to be pretty dire, and we had to begin to feel pretty hopeless before we could open up a little bit and let in some fresh light and help.”
Not all of us reach the same bottom, of course, before we decide not to drink. For many, it’s that first (or third) DUI. It could be lost employment for others. I’ve seen a couple of people with late-stage alcoholism awaiting liver transplants. Hopefully more and more alcoholics will decide to quit long before that happens.
My bottom cut me to the core and maybe that’s why I haven’t wanted to drink since. My son and his wife had an intervention with me. They called me out on my habit of drinking alone in their basement, something that I thought I was getting away with. Didn’t I think they’d notice all the empty vodka bottles? That and the fact that I was being secretive about it were red flags. Shame and secrecy all play into the denial that enables us to keep up bad habits.
I was stunned and deeply ashamed. And only because I’d had many years of work in another 12-Step group did I have enough recovery to stay in my chair and listen to their concerns. They were concerned about their children, my grandchildren, and the danger of drinking and driving. But most of all they were concerned about me, keeping me safe and alive long enough to enjoy watching them grow up.
I am so grateful to my son for stepping in. He saved my life. My own father was just a couple years older than I am when he died prematurely from alcoholism and smoking. History does not have to repeat itself.
When my children were young, I was not always emotionally present for them. To feel my son’s forgiveness now and to see his concern for my welfare is incredibly gratifying to me. I’ve been given a second chance and I want to take advantage of it. How many people get do-overs like that?
“The world
cannot be discovered by a journey of miles…only by a spiritual journey…by which
we arrive at the ground at our feet, and learn to be at home.” ~Wendell Berry
Without the gift of spirit in my life, I would be drifting on an island in the middle of the ocean. Spirit can be anything we want it to be: some people say God, or Higher Power; others focus on a statue or a tree in the garden. It doesn’t matter. What’s important is that it’s not US. “My best thinking got me here.” (into the rooms of recovery)
Here’s
another acronym: EGO=Easing God Out.
That
floating island in the middle of the ocean can be a dangerous vessel without a
steering wheel. Maybe not dangerous; just completely self-reliant and without
guidance.
Self-reliance
was something I learned as a child because I had to. The adults in my life were often distracted with their own
problems, so I learned to do things by myself. This was a vital survival
strategy when I was a child. But as an adult, it became a huge defect.
As an
adult, I’ve too often carried that survival tool into situations in my life
that required outside guidance. Too proud sometimes, or afraid, to ask for help
or advice, I steered my ship into some dangerous waters. Like everyone else,
I’ve made mistakes, and some of them were preventable if I’d had the humility
to ask for help.
So, again
like everyone else, I’m just a child of (God, a tree, the stars), and I’m
growing every day, learning (hopefully) from my mistakes and trying to do
better. Humility is a great leveler, and it has brought me closer to the one
thing I’ve missed all my life: being part of a community of equals. When I’m in
touch with the spirit within me, I’m no longer alone or isolated. I’m at one
within my fellowship—and it feels good to be alive.
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 us
human, and separates us from God. It’s ego that keeps us struggling in our
relationships, ego that keeps us from accepting things as they are and feeling
content with what we have. Ego and our willfulness beneath it that traps us in
our restless search to outdo ourselves and others.
And
it’s ego that makes us 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.
“‘The Chinese say that water is the most
powerful element, because it is perfectly nonresistant. It can wear away a rock
and sweep all before it.’ ~Florence Scovel Shinn
Nonresistance, ironically, may be a posture we
struggle with. Nonresistance means surrendering the ego absolutely. For many of
us, the ego, particularly disguised as false pride, spurred us on to struggle
after struggle. ‘Can’t they see I’m right?’ we moaned, and our resistance only
created more of itself. Conversely, flowing with life, ‘bubbling’ with the
ripples, giving up our ego, releases from us an energy that heals the
situation—that smoothes the negative vibrations in our path. Peace comes to us.
We will find serenity each time we willingly humble ourselves.
‘Resistance is more familiar. Nonresistance means growth and peace. I’ll try for serenity today.’”
It is very hard to accept life on life’s terms. When I faced a heartbreaking situation in my daughter, I fought tooth and nail to free her of the addiction that had taken hold of her. And I was stubborn; I persisted. For several years, I resisted.
But I learned that my power in her struggle was limited. And I needed to surrender my ego and my will to the power of my God. And have faith—a deeply held faith that everything in my life is unfolding as it was meant to.
“I’ve heard some people condense the activities of spiritual
life into these words: quiet the mind; open the heart. In encouraging myself to
expand my understanding of prayer and meditation, I like to recall those
suggestions.”
“’An element of recovery is learning that we deserve
success, the good things that come to us, and also that pain is a reality. We
have the strength to deal with that reality, and it will pass.’ ~Dudley
Martineau
Many of us didn’t understand the changing variables in being
human. Our coping skills were at a minimum until we discovered what alcohol or
pills, even food, could do for us. And then, a drink or two—or six, maybe—got
us through many a lonely evening.
The desire for an easy solution might still haunt us, but
time, new experiences, and program friends have taught us that our past habits
weren’t really easy solutions. In reality they increased our problems and led us
nowhere.”
Some of us who love addicts have found comfort in substances
ourselves. But when I make an effort to walk the spiritual path I have chosen,
I no longer seek those easy solutions. As they say in the rooms, “My best
thinking got me here.” I need to remember that and cease thinking that I have
the best answers. Putting my faith in something greater than myself, I can let
go of my human frailties. And all will be well.
“The
circumstances of our lives seldom live up to our expectations or desires.
However, in each circumstance we are offered an opportunity for growth or
change, a chance for greater understanding of life’s heights and pitfalls. Each
time we choose to lament what isn’t, we close the door on the invitation to a
better existence…
The
experiences we are offered will fail to satisfy our expectations because we
expect so much less than God has planned for us in the days ahead…
I will
breathe deeply and relax. At this moment my every need is being attended to. My
life is unfolding exactly as it should.”
I’ve
wrestled with my faith most of my life, always too self-reliant for my own
good. But as I’ve watched my daughter succumb to heroin addiction, it has been
a great comfort to me to learn how to harness a newfound belief in the power of
something outside of myself, something I can turn to in my despair and know
that something beautiful will come out of it. And it has: my whole life, and
how I choose to live it now, is a miracle.
From Sharing Experience,
Strength and Hope, p. 329:
“Myself, I can change. Others I can only love.”
Once upon a time I thought, because I loved my daughter, it was my responsibility to change her for her own good. How could I not? Her choices were killing her. Then I learned that she had a brain disease and the cure was out of my reach.
Out of my reach.
So I learned to let go and detach, but always with love.
Serenity is the gift I give myself when I let go and let God.
