Oh, Woe is Me!

I was pretty good at looking at my life as a sad case when I was still living in my disease.  There was always a good reason why I needed to continue to drink or use. No one knew how bad my life was. You couldn’t understand me. Everyone was against me. My problems were so deep and personal no one could help me. I had so many reasons to keep on using and very few to stop.

By the time I got to recovery I, like many others, thought that my life was over. I knew I couldn’t go on the way I was going. Somehow I was able to fast forward and see what my life would soon be like and I knew that I had to stop.  I thought the fun was over in life. All was downhill from here on in: no more celebrations and parties, no more reasons to laugh. I figured that I would live a pretty sad life compared to the rest of my friends. But the writing was on the wall: either find a way to quit or follow that road to an early grave. Poor me. Poor me! Pour me another!

Self pity kept me in my disease for many years. Every once in a while I can slip back into it. The why mes. The if onlys. The you don’t knows.  I suffer from the disease of ‘terminal uniqueness’, a shortcoming that never lacks a reason to chuck it all and go back to active addiction.

I am grateful for a sponsor who called me on my stupidity. “You’re on an Ego Trip!” I couldn’t believe him at first, but I’ve come to realize that he was right. My ego telling me I am the worst of the worst and things can’t get better is really the same as my ego telling me I am better than everyone else and things have to go my way. The result is the same: a false identity and an incomplete picture of who I really am. What I need to do is put my Ego aside and try to look at things as they really are.

I’m learning that humility isn’t lowering one’s self. It is being, owning, embracing  myself as I am, not better than or worse than anyone else. I have my strengths and my weaknesses. And I need them all to make up the person that I am today. It doesn’t make me worse or better than the next guy.  I’m just another guy.

I’d like to say that I’m over feeling sorry for myself but I’m still working on it. I am grateful that it doesn’t reveal itself as often as it used to. And I’m grateful that I have learned to apply some of the things I’ve learning in recovery: a gratitude list, a change in my focus, service work and meditation. These help to keep balance in my life and allow me to see that my life can be happy, joyous and free when I work for it.

 

Making Amends

It’s a toss-up as to which is the more dreaded step in our list of twelve: step four, where we were asked to look at ourselves and our past, or step nine where we are asked to make amends to other people. It’s one thing to admit what we have done to ourselves and our sponsor, who, by that time, we know has a sympathetic ear.  It’s quite another to go and talk to someone we have wronged, admit our faults, say we’re sorry and are willing do our best not let it happen again in the future.

I think it’s important to know what we are talking about when speaking of making amends.  It is the act of making compensation for an injury, loss or insult; it is improving one’s behaviour in order to rectify that fault.  In other words, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again and this is what I wish to do to make up for it.  Making amends goes beyond an apology. It is a promise to make the changes necessary so that it will never happen again. It is a promise to compensate in some way for the wrong I have committed.

This step is probably most dreaded because we tend to believe that we have no control over the outcome.  What if they shut me out?  What if they refuse to forgive me? What if they don’t think it’s enough? What if repaying monies owed or replacing goods isn’t acceptable. It would be dreadful indeed if this step was focused on receiving forgiveness from others. It is not.

One of the remarkable aspects of this step is that when I approach another person to make amends, I am not asking for their forgiveness. I do not beg for their pity, mercy or understanding of me and my disease.  I hope I may be forgiven, but if not, my amends is still successful because I have admitted my fault, asked for forgiveness and offered compensation all for my own recovery. Forgiveness is, in fact, beside the point of this step.

I recently heard someone share his story at a meeting.  His sponsor suggested that as an amends to his parents that he cook dinner for them once a week.  His mother protested, saying that just having him come over for dinner was enough for her.  His sponsor insisted and he acquiesced.  And so every week for a year he planned a menu, bought the necessary groceries, rode the bus over to his parent’s home on Thursday afternoon and cooked for his parents.

On the surface, he was making up for all of the lies, the let-downs, and the disloyalty he had shown his folks over the years of active addiction. Beneath that, he gave back to his parent a son they thought they had lost.  They learned how to relate to each other on many different levels.  He showed them that their lessons on punctuality, responsibility and respect had not been completely lost.  He himself learn what it means to be a son to his parents and the rewards of his relationship with them. As an added bonus, he learned the very useful skill of cooking; with each dinner he gained new self-confidence and challenged himself by preparing more complicated recipes. What a wise sponsor that man has.

It is important to go about this step with a sponsor.  Perhaps one may work through what appear to be the easier amends first before handling the more difficult ones.  A sponsor is a guide through this process.  Role playing before the actual event may alleviate some of the ‘pre-amends’ anxiety. A sponsor will also help in determining which amends, if any, shouldn’t be made. Simply saying: “I might feel bad,” isn’t enough to let one off the hook in this step.  I take responsibility; I did the deed. I admit to it, I offer compensation and I change my ways.

While we may not like the idea of this step before we begin, it is worth noting that it is rare when an offer of amends is rejected.  Sometimes what has been weighing heavily on our minds can’t even be recalled by the other person. For most people, it is enough to know that we are sorry and are working our recovery.  Receiving forgiveness for our wrongs? That is the icing of the cake.  Step nine provides further concrete to our foundation on which to build our lives in recovery.  I am just scratching the surface in this blog. Fortunately there is a wealth of knowledge about this step in the literature on the shelves of meeting rooms and in the experience of other recovering addicts and alcoholics.

♥  ♥  ♥

Please like and share this blog, not to stroke my ego, but for those who need the courage, strength and hope to start and continue their journey down Recovery River. I would appreciate it if you would sign up and follow as well.  My intention is to post Mondays and Thursdays.   Please comment and offer suggestions.  I’d love to hear from you.

Peace

 

The End of the World! …not really

When we speak of humility, that elusive quality of character, we often speak of accepting ourselves as we are.  We speak of downplaying ego and of selflessness.  Humility also has something to do with how we react to what is happening around us. It isn’t just a quality on how we see ourselves, but also how we respond to our world.  It is keeping things in proportion.

Humility is keeping things in proper perspective.  It’s not exaggerating about what is happening in our lives, not bragging about how great we are, nor is it commiserating about how bad things are.  How we love to exaggerate. To quote Charles Dickens: “It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.” For most of us, before we got into our twelve step program, there were high highs and low lows.  Seldom did we find ourselves balanced anywhere near the center. And we loved to tell everyone just how good it is, how much money we made, where we lived, who we were married to.  Or, we droned on about how life had done us wrong, how bad things were going at work, how that SOB was going to get what’s coming to him. It was either the best or the worst but rarely a happy medium.  How do we get to that balance?  We give ourselves over to humility.

Humility is that quality that reminds us that we can deal with anything; those things we like and those which challenge us.  It reminds us that we are not alone in life, that we have a Higher Power guiding us and friends around us we can count upon. We learn that we can make it through everything. We can ask ourselves: was it really a bad day, or was it 15 minutes that I milked for the rest of the day?

I remember when I first started teaching.  Managing a full classroom of ten year olds, trying to prepare and present lessons, keeping the principle and parents happy were way beyond my limited experience at the job.  If one thing happened that I wasn’t expecting, say a half an hour before the final bell, suddenly the whole day was a fiasco.  It was the worst day ever. It would be better if I quit now and worked at KFC.  Well, that was my scenario, more or less.  But no, it wasn’t the worst day ever, it was a small thing that I let colour my perspective on the whole day.  I can see now I was operating with plenty of egocentric pride and hardly a speck of humility. Ego and humility cannot exist together. When I claim I’m a humble person, I’ve just let my ego take over.

How grateful I am to learn that I can make it through everything.  I am quite fond of saying that it’s not the end of the world until it’s the end of the world!  I have a Higher Power and I will always get through whatever comes my way, until I don’t make it. And then it won’t matter. Meanwhile I choose to live while I am alive and not wallow in hiding for fear that things might not go the way I want them to go. Besides, in spite of my desire to have it so, it isn’t all about me.  I’m not the only one involved here in this game of life. The world happens.  The world happened before I arrived and will probably keep on long after I’m gone. Humility reminds me that I’m not that important in the big picture.

Someday, I hope to become the guy my dogs think I am. Until that time, I keep working away at changing for the better: remembering that I am just another of the creatures on this earth doing the best I can with what I am given each day.