Accepting Life As It Is

Surrendering Control

I’m learning that peace is not found in controlling everything around me. It is found in learning to trust God in the uncertainty.

Father, if you are willing, take this cup away from me. However, not my will but your will be done. Matthew 26:39

I have two grown children whom I love very much. Unfortunately, they both live in another state, so I don’t get to see them as often as I would like. We talk a couple times a week, usually through text messages, and most of the time I am the one who initiates the conversation. Before recovery, that would have really bothered me. My thinking was very all or nothing. “If they won’t call me, then I won’t call them.” Or, “Why do I always have to be the one reaching out?” But through recovery I am learning to accept relationships as they are instead of demanding they happen on my terms. I am learning to stop rejecting people simply because things are not happening the way I want them to happen. That is what my sponsor says is learning to live in the gray. It is somewhere in between the all or nothing thinking that used to consume me.

Before recovery, I saw almost everything as black and white. Things were either right or wrong. Good or bad. Safe or unsafe. I liked certainty because certainty felt safe to me. If something fit neatly into a category, then I knew how to respond to it. I knew how to control it. Or at least I could plan and be ready in case things didn’t go as planned. It made me feel safe. But life rarely works that way. People are complicated. Relationships are complicated. Emotions are complicated. Things don’t always go as planned. Doing a fearless moral inventory has forced me to start facing the uncomfortable truth that much of life happens somewhere in the gray.

The gray makes me uncomfortable because I don’t know what will happen. I don’t know how to protect myself. I don’t know how to be prepared for or avoid potentially being hurt. Accepting the gray requires trust. It requires patience. It requires me to accept uncertainty instead of rushing to fix it or force it into a category that makes me feel better. Which I now do, although usually reluctantly. One of the things I have discovered through step work with my sponsor is that many times my attempts to “help” or “fix” people were not as selfless as I made them out to be. A lot of it was driven by my own need to feel in control. If I could manipulate and control the situation, calm the conflict, or get the outcome I wanted, it gave me relief. What I have learned since is that my need for control was really giving a dopamine release in my brain. That release temporarily soothed my anxiety and discomfort. It made me feel better, so I sought to feel better again. It was my addiction. I was trying to feel better by managing everyone and everything around me. That realization was hard for me to admit, but by staying honest with myself in my recovery I am learning to face my motives realistically instead of staying in denial about them.

Working through the steps has helped me realize that emotional sobriety or behavioral change is not found in controlling everything around me. It is found in learning how to live honestly, peacefully, and faithfully even when things feel uncertain. I still do not like the gray. I do not like not knowing what is going to happen. I do not like feeling unprepared or out of control. But I am learning how to accept being uncomfortable instead of trying to escape it. I am learning that as I relinquish control God is present in the gray ready to help. And strangely enough, by accepting the gray areas of life, I can now see and appreciate the vibrant areas of life that are full of color, depth and complexity. And that is the gift of recovery for me.

Prayer

Father, help me to stop fighting reality and demanding that life happen on my terms. Teach me to surrender the gray areas of my life to You. Help me to stop trying to control everything around me. Help me to trust You when I feel uncertain, uncomfortable, or afraid. Amen.

Powerless, Not Helpless

Acceptance and Responsible Action

Getting older can stir up resentment we don’t expect. Here’s what happened when I worked a Fourth Step on it.

My grace is enough for you. When you are weak, my power is made perfect in you. 2 Corinthians 12:9

Lately I have been more aware of my body. I do not have the same stamina I once had. I get tired easier. It takes longer to recover. I get sick sometimes when I seldom did before. As I get older, my body does not always cooperate with my mind the way it used to. That affects how much I can work, how much I can play, and even how I view myself as a man. I noticed something stirring underneath the surface. It began as uneasiness that would not go away. Then it turned into frustration and comparison. I would see other men my age still pushing hard, and I felt it. The old fear of not being good enough.

My sponsor taught me that when something is bothering me, I need to write about it. Thoughts become clear when they pass through our lips and fingertips. That is Fourth Step work. So I wrote about it. I asked myself why I was feeling not good enough and what I was afraid of. It didn’t take long for me to realize I was not just resentful of getting older as much as I was resentful of getting weaker. And I was afraid I would not be able to continue living the life that I was accustomed to. I was grieving the part of me who could push longer and produce more. When I dug deeper, I saw something I did not want to admit. I was angry at God. I was embarrassed to see that on paper. Aging is a natural process. I am not a victim. My life is not over. Yet I was blaming Him for something that simply is what it is.

As odd as it may sound, admitting that brought relief. God already knew what I was thinking. But my admittance was about being honest with myself. Aging exposes a new kind of powerlessness. I cannot control time, and I cannot stop my body from changing. When I resist that reality, resentment can build. When I accept it, that pressure releases. Acceptance does not mean fading away into weakness. It means making wise adjustments. I require more sleep now, so I go to bed earlier. I eat healthier so I have more energy. I exercise so my body can build endurance and strength. I keep my brain engaged and my mind active, looking for things that require mental effort. I stay connected in my relationships.

Working the Steps helps me move from embarrassment to acceptance, and from acceptance to action. I am powerless over aging, but I am not helpless. I still have choices that affect my stamina, my health, and my outlook. My goals have not disappeared. They have shifted. Because of my relationship with God, I can be honest with Him and with myself. I am not fading away. I am not stagnant. I am adjusting. I am progressing and growing in my recovery. It keeps me mentally and emotionally healthy. The decisions I make will help my body be as healthy as it can be. I can face this season with confidence instead of resentment. And that is the gift of recovery for me.

Prayer

Father, thank You that I can be honest with You about my fears and frustrations. Help me accept what I cannot control and take wise action where I can. Keep my heart free from resentment and steady in Your grace. Teach me to adjust wisely and trust that Your strength is enough for me. Amen.

God Met Me In My Mess

The Moment I Stopped Trying to Earn God’s Love

Let us therefore come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need. Hebrews 4:16

I felt trapped in a vicious cycle that I couldn’t escape. No matter how hard I tried, I kept repeating the same destructive behaviors. I would pray and plead, “God, please take this urge away,” but the moment of relief never lasted. Like the proverb says, I kept returning to my own vomit. Each time I failed, the shame grew heavier until I started to believe that maybe this was just who I was now. I felt hopeless, discouraged, and distant from God. How could He possibly take me back again? I knew better, and that made it worse. I loved God deeply, but I was too embarrassed to pray. I repented, but I still carried guilt like a permanent scar. Even when I did pray, I found myself begging for forgiveness over and over, as if His mercy depended on how sorry I felt. Though I knew in my head that He promised forgiveness, I didn’t believe it enough to feel it in my heart. Slowly, without even realizing it, I stopped praying altogether.

Through recovery, something began to change. At every meeting, we prayed, once to open and once to close. So that meant I prayed. I was praying again. The prayers were familiar and I recognized the words, but now they seemed more real to me. I had a spiritual awakening, realizing that even simple, common prayers carry deep meaning when spoken from the heart. God reached me there, taking the little bit I had to give and welcomed me. He didn’t reject me or chastise me for not doing it better. He just accepted me as I was, and He came to meet me right there. I started to feel like I was getting to know God, not just about Him.

My relationship with God began to deepen, and prayer was becoming a conversation. I laid down my facade and was finally being honest. I could talk to Him about anything and everything. I started having discussions with God like I would another person. I started sharing my struggles, fears, and plans with God. I thanked Him, asked His advice and opinion, and I even questioned Him. What was important was that I stopped lying to God and told Him the truth. The amazing thing is that the more honest I was with Him, the more I trusted Him, and the more peace I felt. Prayer wasn’t about earning His approval anymore, it was about connection. I discovered God wasn’t waiting for me to get it right; He was waiting for me to get real.

Prayer:
Father, thank You for accepting me right where I am. Thank You that I don’t have to perform or pretend to earn Your love. Teach me to keep coming to You honestly, without fear or shame. Help me to grow in our conversation and to stay open to Your voice every day. Amen.