I made a lot of promises in my
active addiction. My unmanageability
includes all the times I swore off of pot or porn or purging or prescription
meds, as well as all the foxhole promises I made if I could be excused from one
of my painful consequences. I wanted so
much to have those oaths come true.
Twelve Step literature tells me that I cannot make never-forever
promises. I am in denial when I think
otherwise.
And better than what I promise, is
what I do. I am not perfect. I stumble and backslide. I keep making promises that I struggle with (I
will go to a meeting today, I will call my sponsor today, I will show up on time
today). But I get a new chance every day. A chance to do instead of speak my
truth. A chance to let my actions speak
for me. A chance to follow god’s path, right
my wrongs, combat my denial. A chance to
live with God and my fellows in recovery.
Tomorrow’s actions will speak louder than today’s promises.
++++++++++++++++++++
Charles Van Doren: I’ll take my chances.
Dick Goodwin: A chance is what I’m giving you.
–Quiz Show
I don’t consider myself a risk
taker. I am prudent and cautious. I am careful and trustworthy. That is pretty much true except in one aspect
of my life. In my addiction, my denial
is thick and hides risks that I wouldn’t want to tell anyone. Spending tens of thousands of dollars on my
addiction. A college tuition, a down payment
on a house, a retirement, all gone in a never ending quest for more – not sound
risks. More is not an investment plan,
more is not a goal. It is a desire that
cannot be obtained.
My denial shows me where my risks are and where I need
help. When I think I can make it on my
own, I can bet that I won’t. When I
think the risk I’m taking is reasonable or safe enough, I can bet that it’s
not. When I think I know what’s best, what
will work for me, what will keep me safe and sober, I can bet that I’m better
off trusting my brothers and sisters in recovery. In my denial, I can’t recognize my best
chance; honesty and God’s path. But if I
look to my left and to my right, I will see others trudging along with me and know
that I’m in the right place.
My higher power gives
me so many chances; I don’t even recognize all of them.
I’ll be back. –Terminator
Addiction is relentless.
It is unmerciful. It is absolute. It is unambiguous. When I get high, it is unstoppable. Whatever I sniff or ingest or imbibe or whoever
I give myself or my power or my body to, once I begin, the consequences are
immutable. I must go through tremendous
intellectual gymnastics to make myself think I will not crash, to make myself
forget what will absolutely happen. But
like a train on tracks, when I get high my destination is certain, and my
addiction is as out of my control as a locomotive.
Even if consequences are delayed, they will come. There are no freebies in addiction. There are no free hits. Every one takes up residence in my heart and
decays my life. And one of the truest
signs of my denial – I sit with that decay, I let it putrefy within me, I add
heat and darkness to it, and let it fester.
Who would live such a life? Not someone
stupid, just someone sick.. An ordinary
addict like me. How can I get clean? Turning on the light and opening a window
helps. The true antidote does take
tremendous courage. I tell my experience
to another addict. It won’t be fun. But in program, I will be accepted.
My higher power came
before my addiction and is available to me every day.
++++++++++++++++++++
We’re on a mission
from God. –The Blues Brothers
Safe to say that I don’t know much
about my higher power. I have certain
ideas about what I think HP should be like, should do, how HP should treat me
(or make other people treat me). I like
to specify outcomes and consequences to my HP.
Sometimes I treat my HP like I treat myself – lots of demands and not
much acceptance.
But I do believe in my
higher power. Not just a higher power,
but the one that I understand – for me, he’s nice, fatherly, bearded, not
religiously affiliated, straight out of a Simpson’s episode; that’s just my HP,
no one else’s. And I do believe
in my HP. I don’t mean that I believe in
the existence of God; nor do I mean that my HP will save my soul. What I mean is that when I am honest and
truthful with myself, I believe that there’s no way I could have ended up here without
the intervention of something outside of myself. Do I still want more from my HP? All the time.
But then again, I’ve often had trouble understanding the concept of
‘enough’. My guess is that I get just
what I need.
My higher power is
just as reliable as my addiction, and a lot nicer.
++++++++++++++++++++
You know what I hate. I hate it when someone calls me out. My natural inclination is to look for bullshit
co-signers. My denial comes to me as tiny
creeping insects. My denial takes up
residence as stealthily as a snake and as camouflaged as a chameleon. My denial uses the environment of my mind,
twists ‘near facts’ into structures of fun house mirrors. Some threads of my denial are years, even
decades in the making. In that frame of
mind, the last thing I’m interested in is rigorous honesty.
What an order indeed. Unmerciful truth is not my thing. It’s too much for me. I can barely order food at a restaurant without
lying. How am I supposed to handle truth
without denial?
And what about my ‘friends’ who share
their honest impressions with me? I’m
not used to friends like that; I resent them because I take their honesty as criticism
and judgment. But if I ask, I will
usually learn that these recovery peers are speaking from their own personal
experience. Let’s face it, I can see the
truth in others much more quickly than I can in myself. Sure I take what works and leave the rest. Honesty is not always comfortable, but it is
tolerable. Addiction may seem
comfortable, but it’s deadly.
My program will give
me what I need, but not necessarily what I want.
