Why Did I Sigh?

Noticing My Reactions

The way I react is usually a clue to what’s going on inside me. It’s a good time to stop, take inventory, and ask God to show me what is really going on in my heart.

You should be looking at yourselves to make sure that you are really Christ’s. It is yourselves that you should be testing, not me… 2 Corinthians 13:5

The other day when I came home from work, my wife asked me if I had remembered to pick up our prescriptions from the pharmacy on my way home. I had forgotten. I sat down on the couch and a minute later she asked, “What’s wrong? Why are you upset?” I looked at her a little confused and said, “I’m not upset.” She said, “Then why did you sigh?” I asked, “I sighed?” “I don’t remember sighing.” She assured me I had. She thought I was frustrated with her and was being passive-aggressive. That got my attention because if that’s what she heard and thought, I needed to know why and examine my motives. That was my old manipulative behavior, so to me, that means inventory. I started asking myself some questions. Was I upset? No. Was I frustrated with my wife? No. Was I being passive-aggressive? I certainly didn’t think so. Then why did I sigh? Do I sigh so often that I don’t even notice? Is that normal for me? As I sat with it, I realized something. I do sigh a lot. Not just once in a while, but throughout the day. If I’m working on something that doesn’t go right, I sigh. If I forget something, I sigh. If I make a mistake, I sigh. I came to the conclusion that yes, I am a sigher, if that’s even a word. I still didn’t have an answer as to why I sighed though. So I decided to do a little research on why people sigh and what it may mean. What I discovered was enlightening, but not necessarily surprising.

I discovered people sigh for all kinds of reasons. Sometimes it’s passive-aggressive when directed toward others. Sometimes it’s anxiety. Sometimes it’s emotional suppression. Sometimes it’s perfectionism. I saw a pattern that I related to. I didn’t usually sigh because someone else had upset me. I sighed because I was disappointed with myself. If I forgot something. If I made a mistake. If something didn’t go as I had planned. I would sigh out of frustration. I would think, “You could have done better.” It wasn’t anyone else saying it. It was me. My sigh wasn’t directed at anyone else. It was the sound of carrying the weight of not measuring up. I knew I was hard on myself, that wasn’t new. What I hadn’t realized was how often my body was expressing feelings I was not cognizant of. I started reflecting on what I was thinking and feeling right before I sighed. I realized my disappointment wasn’t really about forgetting something or making a mistake. Those were just the triggers. Underneath them was something much deeper. It was that old feeling that I am not good enough. I was subconsciously putting pressure on myself. And when I failed to meet my own unrealistic expectations of being perfect, I would sigh.

In recovery, I have learned this is what my sponsor calls a corrupt core belief of “I am bad.” Growing up, I learned to measure myself by how well I performed. If I could do things right, keep people happy, and not make mistakes, then maybe I would be good enough to not get in trouble. Living that way is exhausting. I never saw that before recovery. Instead of asking, “Why can’t I get this right?” I ask a different question. “What am I feeling right now? What am I believing about myself?” God has never asked me to earn His love and acceptance by being perfect. He simply asks me to trust Him, admit when I’m wrong, and make amends when necessary.

Now when I catch myself sighing, I pause. Instead of ignoring it, I pray and ask God for help. I do a spot-check inventory. I ask myself, “What am I feeling right now? What am I believing about myself?” If I uncover a lie, I ask God to help me surrender it. Then I ask Him to help me accept that I am enough even when I don’t feel that way. And that is the gift of recovery for me.

Prayer

God, help me pay attention to what is really going on in my heart. Show me the lies I still believe about myself. Give me the courage to let them go. Remind me that Your truth is greater than my feelings. Help me accept that I am enough. Amen

Fighting Ghosts

Uncovering Yesterday’s Wounds

One of the gifts of inventory is discovering that my reactions aren’t always about what’s happening right now. Sometimes I’m still in a battle with a ghost from long ago.

So I run with a purpose in every step. I am not just shadowboxing. 1 Corinthians 9:26

The other night I was umpiring an adult softball game. Around here they call it a “beer league” because most of the players drink while they play. For the most part it is just a bunch of adults having fun, playing ball, and enjoying themselves. Occasionally, though, someone drinks too much. One of the players was clearly drunk and being loud, boisterous, and passive aggressive throughout the game. After the game he walked up to me on the field and said, “You know I’m just joking with you. You don’t need to take it seriously. You know I’m…” Before he could finish, I interrupted him and said, “Drunk.” His demeanor changed immediately. He became confrontational. Then I followed it up with, “I’m sorry, was that supposed to be a secret?” It was pure sarcasm. As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I knew I had crossed the line. I wanted to apologize and I did, but I don’t think he’ll even remember, but I will.

On the drive home I did a step 10 inventory. I asked myself a few questions. Why did I say that? Why did I act that way? Why did I want to call him out and embarrass him? My sponsor has taught me that when I have a reaction, there is usually something more underneath it. So, I stayed with this and as I thought about it, I remembered another incident from years ago before recovery. I was traveling to a convention for work. A coworker showed up at the airport drunk and got even more drunk at the airport bar before a flight. He became loud, obnoxious, and completely unaware of how he was acting. He had shared he was terrified of flying. Instead of showing him grace, I took advantage of the situation. I encouraged him to be even louder and more obnoxious. I encouraged him to make a fool of himself and laughed at him as he did. It was the same feeling. The same reaction. As I sat with it, I asked what was I feeling? What was I getting out of this? I was taken back to when I was a child. Growing up, the alcoholic in my life was very different when he drank. When he was drunk, there was anger, humiliation, fear, and a feeling of powerlessness. Then I saw it. Part of me still wants to fight back. The problem is, I am fighting a ghost. I am unleashing my anger on people who were never responsible for my pain. When I encounter a drunk person today who is being loud and obnoxious, that little boy in me still wants to expose them, embarrass them, and take back the power he never had. He still wants to punish them and make them feel what he once felt.

What surfaced when I did my inventory was this: the softball player is responsible for his behavior and I am responsible for mine. I need to stop focusing on the other person’s actions and examine my own. Instead of justifying my meanness and sarcasm, I have learned to ask why it was there in the first place. What I uncovered that day is just another layer of anger, fear, and pain that I did not know was still there. I’m grateful that inventory helps me find my part. It helps me uncover hurts and pains from my past that are still influencing me today. Once they’re uncovered, I can surrender them to God and ask Him to continue healing them. As I continue doing my part, God faithfully does His. He renews my thinking, heals old wounds, and helps me respond differently than I did before. That is the gift of recovery for me.

Prayer

Father, thank You for showing me another layer of what is really going on inside me. Help me to stop fighting ghosts and taking my pain out on people who didn’t cause it. Give me the courage to keep taking my own inventory, to own my part, and the willingness to let You heal what I cannot. Amen.

Choosing On Purpose

I Don’t Have To Wait

I am not limited to merely reacting. I can choose on purpose how I respond.

I call heaven and earth as witnesses against you today that I have offered you life or death, blessings or curses. Choose life so that you and your descendants will live. Deuteronomy 30:19

I umpired a softball tournament this past weekend. It was hot and dry. I had nine games to umpire. One specific game was in the heat of the day. It was midday, the hottest part of the day and it was a boring game. I was bored because there was not much action, not a lot of hitting and poor pitching.

One of the things I enjoy about umpiring girls’ softball is the atmosphere. The girls sing their chants, the teams play music between innings and they have walk-up songs when they come to bat. It’s just a different environment. Standing there in the heat during this slow game, I remembered something I have learned in recovery. If something works, I can choose to do it whenever I want. I may not be able to control the circumstances, but I can choose how I respond to them. So I decided I was going to have some fun. I started dancing and singing along with the music. The fans started chanting, “Go Blue! Go Blue!” The crowd got a little louder and a little more engaged. The players started laughing and giggling and dancing too. I’m sure part of it was because I’m such a terrible dancer.

What struck me in that moment was how simple the decision was. Nothing about the game had changed. It was still hot. It was still slow. It was still the middle of the afternoon. The circumstances were exactly the same. The only thing that changed was me. For years I wasted too much time waiting for circumstances to improve before I allowed myself to enjoy something. I would wait for the stress to go away, the problem to be solved, or the situation to get better. I am learning that I don’t have to wait for things to improve before I decide to enjoy where I am. I don’t have to wait for an invitation or be told to do it. I can choose to have fun and be happy if I want to, regardless of the circumstances and situation.

The game eventually picked up. The teams started hitting, the pitching got better and the game became exciting. Then a nice breeze came through and brought relief from that dry heat. It felt amazing. I’m not saying those things all happened because I started dancing to the music. But I’m not saying they didn’t either. What I am saying is that life doesn’t have to be put on hold until everything is perfect. I am not limited to merely reacting. I can choose on purpose how I respond, even if that means having a little fun right in the middle of unpleasant circumstances. When I can do that, I am choosing life. I am choosing to live life. And it is surprising how often the circumstances seem to change when I choose to be alive in the moment.

Prayer

God, thank You for giving me life. Help me choose to live this life and enjoy it to its fullest each day. Teach me how to be fully present wherever my feet are. Amen.

Liking Me Too

An Unexpected Gift

The gift of recovery for me is realizing that I am still growing, healing, and changing, even after all these years.

I’m not saying that I have this all together, that I have it made. But I am well on my way, reaching out for Christ, who has so wondrously reached out for me. Philippians 3:12

At work recently, I sent a client a firm letter regarding an unpaid invoice. The bill was more than sixty days overdue, and the letter was our standard notice before sending an account to collections. The client happened to be a very good, regular client and close friends with one of our employees, so I casually asked if they knew whether there was a problem. It just didn’t seem like something this client would do. The employee shrugged and said, “How should I know?” Immediately, I felt bad. I thought I crossed a line for asking, so I apologized. I explained that it just seemed out of character for this client not to pay their bill. The employee then mentioned that they vaguely remembered the client making a payment when they first came in, but there was an adjustment to their invoice. That prompted me to do some digging. Sure enough, I discovered we had received the payment when they first came in, but it had never been applied to their invoice. The mistake was ours.

I corrected the account, applied the payment, and sent the client a receipt along with a brief email apology. Several days later the client came into the office. When I saw them, I walked over, explained what had happened, and apologized for the error. The client was gracious and seemed completely unbothered by the whole thing. Later that day, that same employee came up to me and said, “Thank you.” I smiled and asked, “For what?” She replied, “For being you. I really like the new you.” I thanked her and walked away, but her words stayed with me.

As I walked away, I felt something new rise up. The only way I could describe it is that I felt proud of myself. Not in an arrogant way, but in a healthy way. I felt grateful. Hopeful. Encouraged. Her words meant so much to me. The changes happening in me were obvious enough that someone else noticed without me pointing it out. I was happy. I was glad. I wasn’t just happy and glad that someone noticed. But the fact that someone else noticed meant these changes are real and not just imagined. I’m not thinking that things are different when they really aren’t. That was my old life. That was that denial self. This was different. It was tangible. Here is what is so cool and what I am grateful for. I have been practicing recovery for nineteen years. I am not the same person I was when I first walked into the rooms. God has changed so many things in my life over the years. Yet what struck me was that even now, after all this time, I am still growing and changing. Recovery is still working. God is still working on me.

Practicing the principles of recovery helps me see things I could never see on my own. Sometimes those discoveries come through inventory, prayer, journaling, or conversations with my sponsor. Other times they come through an unexpected comment from someone else. I just received an unexpected gift. Someone noticed the evidence of God’s work in my life. Their words reminded me that God is still helping me change. Just like He has been doing every day since I began this journey. I have not arrived or graduated from recovery. He is still changing me from the inside out. I am no longer the old man I used to be. I am becoming the man I always wanted to be. Today I can honestly say that I like the new me too.

Reflection

What evidence of God’s work in your life can you see today that you may not have recognized before?

Suddenly Important

Asking Myself Why

The gift isn’t that I never get hurt. The gift is that I recognize it sooner and ask myself, “Why did it bother me?”

We are all in love with our own opinions, convinced they’re correct. But the Lord is in the midst of us, testing and probing our every motive. Proverbs 16:2

The other day I logged on to Facebook and noticed that someone I know and care about deeply had made several comments on the posts of a few mutual friends. Almost immediately, a thought crept into my mind. “Why don’t they ever comment on my posts? I write all the time.” I began entertaining that thought and having a full two-way conversation in my head. Before long, I felt hurt and offended. I found myself replaying old hurts and creating stories in my head. As I sat there thinking about it, I suddenly became aware that I was going down a rabbit hole. I knew where those thoughts would take me if I let them go unchecked. It was an old familiar place I had worked hard to leave behind. Then I asked myself, why was this person’s approval suddenly so important to me? It wasn’t important five minutes ago. It only became important after I saw their comments on someone else’s post.

One of the gifts I have received from working a 12 Step recovery program is learning to pay attention to what is happening inside of me. Instead of focusing on the other person, I have learned to ask myself why I am feeling or reacting the way I am. When I looked honestly at what was going on, I realized I was seeking approval. And I was seeking it from someone who either couldn’t or wouldn’t give it to me. Somehow, I had attached my sense of worth to receiving that approval. When I can recognize that, things begin to change. I stop focusing on what the other person is doing and start looking at what is happening inside of me. The issue is no longer their comments, their behavior, or their choices. The issue is my hurt feelings, my need for approval, and the old wound that has been triggered. What I was thinking and feeling was all about me being affected by my old wounds. It wasn’t about what the other person did or didn’t do. It’s my responsibility to deal with what is happening inside of me. I am not a victim. I have choices.

I once heard someone say that I cannot stop birds from flying over my head, but I can stop them from building a nest in my hair. The same is true of thoughts and feelings. I cannot always stop them from showing up, but I do not have to let them take up permanent residence. I have a choice about what I do with them once they arrive. Today, when I feel hurt, I try not to just push it away or pretend it’s not there. Instead, I acknowledge it, feel it, and ask myself why it is there. If I discover that a character defect, fear, expectation, or old wound has been uncovered, I don’t ignore it. I embrace it and try to find out what I can learn about myself and how I can grow. It is not that I never get hurt anymore. I am now able to recognize it sooner. I get to my part quicker. The hurt does not hurt as much as it once did, and sometimes it does not hurt at all. I am learning that most people are not trying to hurt me. They are simply living their lives, and sometimes I get hurt by their actions. When that happens, I now have a process. I write about it and take inventory. This helps me change my perspective. I ask God for help and surrender outcomes to Him. I am no longer responsible for the universe, He is. When I can do that, I sense His presence and His peace soon follows. That is the gift of recovery for me.

Reflection

Has something recently caused an emotional reaction you weren’t expecting? What might be underneath that reaction?

Recognizing Old Behaviors

Seeing My Part

How do I know if I am practicing my recovery? When I can hear the truth about myself, even when it is not what I want to hear.

That you are to put away, as concerning your earlier way of life, the old man, which becomes evil by deceitful desires; And be made new in the spirit of your mind, And put on the new man, to which God has given life, in righteousness and a true and holy way of living. Ephesians 4:22-24

I recently had a conflict at work. An employee received a call from a client who questioned an invoice. She had decided that another employee made a mistake. I tried to calm her down and explain that we should find out what happened first before jumping to conclusions. The conversation shifted. The employee became defensive, argumentative, and interrupted me repeatedly. I got frustrated. The more I tried to explain, the more she argued. Eventually, I ended the conversation and walked away. Later, I spoke with her supervisor, asking if they could explain the concept to the employee. The supervisor agreed and made a passing comment that the employee and I seemed to be talking at each other instead of talking to each other.

To be honest, it would have been easy to just dismiss and ignore the comment. After all, the employee had been the one arguing. She had been the one refusing to listen. She even called the client back and threw me under the bus. It would have been easy to focus entirely on everything she had done wrong. I felt justified. But that is not recovery. Instead, I paused and thought about that comment the supervisor made. It resonated with me, not because it reflected the man I want to be today, but because I recognized traces of the man I used to be. One of the principles I have learned from working the steps is to look for my part in every conflict. Not because everything is my fault, but because in every conflict I have a part. It is up to me to be honest with myself and open-minded enough to find it.

As I thought about the situation, I realized that while I may have been right about the issue itself, I was no longer getting through to her. I was frustrated. I was repeating myself. I kept trying harder and harder to make my point. I realized that what I really wanted was for her to understand what I was trying to say. In my frustration, I had shifted into defensiveness, trying so hard to make my point that I stopped listening to understand. That is when I recognized I had drifted into old behavior.

What I am most grateful for today is not that the conflict was resolved. What I am grateful for is that I was able to hear the truth about my behavior in a passing comment without becoming defensive. Instead, I had a sincere desire to change and grow. Years ago, I would have spent all of my energy proving why I was right. Today, I am grateful that God has given me the willingness to look honestly at myself and to ask, “What is my part?” He has given me the courage to confront whatever it is and change. I am grateful that I know God is still working in my life because I can see things about myself today that I used to be blind to. That reminds me that He is not finished with me yet.

Reflection

Is there an old behavior you recognize in yourself that God may be asking you to address?

Seeing the True Gift

God’s Faithfulness Once Again

Sometimes the greatest gift I receive is something different than the solution I am praying for.

Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above and comes down from the Father… James 1:17

Over the weekend, a billing error caused our card to be charged six times for the same purchase and completely overdrew our bank account. To make matters worse, my wife had a very important doctor’s appointment the next day. She needed money for a co-pay, gas for the car, and a prescription. None of those things could wait. I racked my brain trying to figure out a way to get some cash and ran through every option I could think of. My wife was frustrated. I was frustrated. Sometimes that frustration can turn into an argument. But we both have enough recovery to recognize that we were upset with the situation, not with each other. There wasn’t anything we could do about it late Sunday night. We discussed whether she should cancel and reschedule the appointment, but since it was a post-operation checkup to have her sutures removed, it was important. The next opening with the doctor was several weeks away. So we agreed to let it go for the night and trust God to provide a solution.

Being a single income family, we have learned to trust God as our source. He provides for our needs in all kinds of ways. God’s help is not always dramatic or miraculous. We read in the Bible about ravens bringing food to Elijah every day. But most of the time God works through very ordinary means. He often uses people, circumstances, and opportunities in our life. An extra shift at work. An unexpected sale. A phone call. A conversation. A new idea.

On Monday morning, I was waiting on payment for work I had done over the weekend. They pay through Venmo, but the payment is usually sent on Sunday. I was concerned my wife would have to cancel her appointment. Finally, the payment came through about thirty minutes before she needed to leave. Since transferring money to our account usually takes a day or two, I started looking for places that accepted Venmo directly. I found a gas station that did, so at least we could get fuel in the car. Then I remembered that Venmo has an instant transfer option. I never use it because I don’t like paying the fee, but I decided that if that was what it took, then that was what I would do. Since I never used it, I had no idea what the fee would be. I thought it would be a percentage of the payment. When I opened the app, I discovered I had been paid a little extra. It was more than enough to cover the transfer fee and get the money into our account immediately. The transfer fee was not as significant as I feared it would be either. Within minutes, my wife had what she needed for her appointment, gas, and prescription and anything else she may need.

I thanked God for providing what we needed once again. He is always faithful. Then I realized something else. He helped us handle the situation differently than we would have in the past. Instead of panicking, arguing, or trying to force a solution, we were able to be patient, trust Him, and stay open minded to possibilities we had not considered. That is a gift I do not take for granted. Sometimes God’s help comes in the form of a dramatic miracle, but more often His provision comes through wisdom, perspective, and new ways of thinking. Looking back, God provided more than what we needed that weekend. I am not referring only to the money. The greater gift was the way He helped us walk through the situation. Years ago, we might have blamed each other, argued, or tried to force an answer. Instead, we trusted Him, worked together, and remained open to solutions we had not considered. The money solved an immediate problem, but the changes in our attitudes and behaviors are the true gift. God did not change us overnight. He changed us as we became willing to trust Him and apply the principles and steps of recovery one day at a time.

Reflection

What gifts from God have you noticed in your life since beginning your recovery journey?

What Do I Want?

What Stays And What Goes

Growth isn’t always about fixing what is broken. Sometimes it’s about letting go of things that no longer belong.

But you, change the way you were living. The person you used to be will ruin you through desires that deceive you. Have a new attitude. Ephesians 4:22-23

I was listening to someone share recently about their house being flooded. After the water receded, people started calling and asking what they could do to help. One friend asked, “What do you need?” The homeowner responded, “The first thing I need to do is take inventory and assess the damage.” When he said that I knew instantly what he meant. He went on to explain that before he could do anything, he first had to figure out what was there. What was still good and what was ruined. What could be saved and what needed to be replaced. What he wanted to keep and what he wanted to get rid of. There might even be things that survived the flood just fine. Things he no longer wanted. And there were new things he wanted.

As I listened, something clicked for me. I have taken inventories in recovery for years. Usually when I think about taking an inventory, I think about answering Fourth Step questions. Those questions have helped me uncover resentments, fears, unhealthy patterns, and character defects that I could not see on my own. I knew what an inventory was. I had taken inventories at work and in recovery for years. But somehow, I had gotten stuck thinking that answering the questions was the inventory. I would answer the questions, share them with my sponsor, and gain insight in the process. What I suddenly realized was that the questions were never the inventory. They were tools that helped me break through denial and see what was already there. The inventory was always just an honest assessment of myself.

As I thought about that flooded house, I realized that is exactly what I am doing when I take inventory of my life. There are things God has been building in me over the years that I am grateful for and want to keep. There are also things I am still working on that need attention and repair. There are also things that I no longer want. Things like my need to control people and outcomes. My tendency to become defensive when I feel threatened. The walls I built to protect myself from being hurt. Those things may have helped me survive at one point in my life, but they no longer belong. Then there are qualities I want more of, like patience, humility, trust, compassion, and acceptance.

The gift I received from this story was the realization that even though some things survived the flood just fine, the homeowner no longer wanted them. It dawned on me that the same thing is true in my life. Some of the attitudes and behaviors that helped me survive no longer belong in the person I want to be. Today, when I take inventory, I am not just looking for what is broken and damaged. I am also looking for what no longer belongs and what I want in my life instead.

Reflection

What is one quality or character trait you would like more of in your life today?

A Trust Problem

Feeling Safe

My need to control uncovered a truth I was blind to. I didn’t trust God or the people who love me.

Whenever I am afraid, I will trust in You. Psalm 56:3

I was listening to a speaker and started meditating on what she said. She shared that one of the reasons she argued in relationships was because she felt out of control. As soon as I heard that, I knew that was me. It was almost like I could finish what she was saying without ever hearing it. I felt like there was a huge spotlight shining on me and God was saying “This is you pal.” I realized that my first reaction in conflict was to defend and argue my position and beliefs. And I know it was because I felt out of control. As I meditated on it more and thought back on my relationships, I realized that my initial reaction when I feel out of control was always to fight. I felt attacked and would immediately defend myself and argue my position because being in control made me feel safe.

Quite honestly this became a huge problem in my marriage. A few years back, my relationship with my wife wasn’t the greatest. Our communication was suffering. We loved each other very much, but we argued a lot. We both love God. We’re both in recovery. We were both trying to do our best. We would pray about our problems and sincerely want things to be different, but somehow we would find ourselves having the same arguments over and over again. Many of the arguments were over stupid things too, that really didn’t matter. Then those little things would turn into “a thing” themselves. It was insane. I would get frustrated and honestly couldn’t understand why we kept getting stuck repeating the same pattern. Last year, I decided to start applying some recovery principles to my marriage more intentionally. One of those principles was simply considering the possibility exists that my wife could be right. Another was accepting things as they are instead of insisting they be the way I wanted them to be. Many times that meant keeping my mouth shut and listening instead of immediately responding, defending myself, or acting like a victim. The results were remarkable. Our relationship improved dramatically. We argued less, enjoyed each other more, and experienced a level of peace that had been missing for a while. Secretly, I thought it was because I was being “recovery man” and I patted myself on the back, because in my mind I was working my recovery. Is that pride? Yes! I am embarrassed to admit I thought this way, but I am just being honest. I was told early on that true healing comes from being completely honest.

Initially, I made those changes because I wanted peace in my relationship and didn’t want to argue. I was practicing recovery principles, keeping my mouth shut more often, and trying not to react. In my mind, that was why things were getting better. And there is some truth to that. But as I reflected on what the speaker said, I began to see something I had missed. One of the recovery principles I was trying to practice was considering the possibility exists that my wife could be right. But it was only an intellectual acknowledgement, because I never really considered that she might actually be right about me. For years she told me that I wasn’t taking responsibility for my part in our conflicts. I heard her words, but I mostly dismissed them as her trying to work my program. I would apologize and not give it another thought, and secretly continue believing that the real problem was not me.

As I got honest with myself, I began to see that my need to defend myself and argue wasn’t really about being right at all. It was about trust. When I felt out of control, I felt unsafe, and when I felt unsafe, I tried to regain control by defending my position and convincing others to see things my way. What I am learning now is that I don’t have to do that. I can trust God. I can trust that the people who love me are not my enemies. I don’t have to prove my point or win every disagreement to feel safe. I can listen. I can consider that someone else might really be right, even about me. The more I learn to trust, the less I feel the need to control. And the less I try to control, the more peace I experience in my life, my marriage, and my relationships. What I once thought was a communication problem seems to really be a trust problem, and learning to trust is bringing a freedom I never found through arguing, defending, or trying to be right. And that is the gift of recovery for me.

Prayer

Father, thank You for showing me that I don’t always have to defend myself. Help me let go of the need to be in control. Teach me how to trust You when I am afraid, and to trust those who love me. Amen.

Rethinking Love

What Love Looks Like

Just because something is true doesn’t mean it needs to be said. Sometimes love listens quietly as someone tells their story.

Knowledge puffs up while love builds up. 1 Corinthians 8:1

Recently I was reading through Recovery: A Guide for Adult Children of Alcoholics. One section that jumped out to me was talking about not beating ourselves up for the ways we learned to love and relate to other people. It wasn’t offering an excuse for unhealthy behavior. It was offering hope. It said that if I learned unhealthy behaviors as a child, I could also learn to replace those with healthy ones. As I started thinking about that, it led me to ask myself a few questions. Where did I learn how to love? How do I know what love looks like? How will I know if I am giving love and receiving love?

As I explored those questions, I finally started to see where my behaviors came from. For years I even dismissed my behaviors by saying, “That’s just the way I am.” Somehow, in my mind, that justified being dismissive, passive-aggressive, condescending, sarcastic, or critical. The confusing thing is that inwardly I really wanted to be caring, compassionate, and loving. Many times I honestly thought I was helping people. I would tell them what they needed to do, explain how they could fix their situation, or quote a scripture verse that applied to what they were going through. I’m not saying the advice was always wrong or that the scripture didn’t apply. But just because something is true doesn’t mean the way I delivered it was compassionate, or that it needed to be said at all. I was sharing from knowledge and not from experience. Then a Bible verse came to mind. Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up. That stopped me. I realized that I wasn’t always sharing because people needed to hear what I had to say. Sometimes I was sharing because it made me feel important to have the answer. It made me feel loved.

Looking back, I don’t think my parents were trying to hurt me. I believe they loved me and wanted what was best for me. They did the best they knew how. They had their own struggles, and I cannot tell their story, but they were probably just passing on many of the things they learned growing up too. What I can say though, is that much of the attention I received as a child was critical, corrective, and often punitive. Like all human beings, I craved love. I began to associate correction, the attention I received, with love. I learned that pointing out what was wrong with people was how you showed that you cared. Because that was the kind of attention I received most often, I began to interpret correction itself as love. Since that was what I experienced, it became how I practiced love.

Today I am glad that I am learning how to love in healthy ways. By practicing the principles of recovery I can accept that love looks different than I thought it did. Love doesn’t always have all the answers. Love doesn’t always correct others. Love doesn’t always point out what is wrong. Sometimes love just accepts people where they are. Sometimes love simply listens quietly as someone tells their story. I still sense myself wanting to correct others or give them advice. The difference is that now I see it. I have a choice. Every day gives me another opportunity to practice a healthier way of loving others. And when I do that I find that I am often the recipient of that same kind of love and acceptance. And that is the greatest gift recovery has ever given me.

Prayer

Father, thank You for not giving up on me. Thank You for teaching me how to love in healthier ways. Thank You for helping me see things I could not see before. Slow me down so I can listen and accept people where they are. Help me to show compassion instead of criticism. Thank You for the love and acceptance I have received from You and in the rooms of recovery. Amen.

Perfect Timing

Seeing God

I’m learning to look for God in the ordinary moments of my day, not just the dramatic ones.

Your Father knows what you need before you ask Him. Matthew 6:8

As an umpire, I have all kinds of gear and equipment I wear for games. Chest protector, shin guards, face mask, steel-toed shoes, jackets for cold weather, rain gear, and different uniforms depending on the conditions. Some of it is for protection and some of it is simply part of presenting yourself professionally and showing respect for the game. Living in the desert I have to be prepared for all kinds of weather conditions, sometimes having opposite extremes even in the same day. A few months ago was one of those days. I was umpiring a tournament out of town and it was a very cold morning, so I wore my insulated jacket. As the game progressed, the weather warmed up quickly, and I took my jacket off and left it in a dugout. I worked four more games that day in much warmer weather and completely forgot my jacket.

Honestly, I didn’t even realize it was missing until weeks later when I started looking for it. I checked my car, my uniform closet, local ballfields, and even asked other umpires and coaches if they had seen it. Nobody knew where it was. I figured it was probably gone for good. Then last week, out of nowhere, I got a call from a tournament director asking if I could umpire an upcoming tournament. Before we hung up, he said, “Oh, by the way, I have your jacket.” Someone had found it and given it to him months earlier. I was grateful just knowing it hadn’t been stolen or thrown away. But what really struck me was the timing of it all.

Last night I was umpiring a playoff game. The forecast was for cold weather that eventually turned rainy. I brought my jacket with me and put it on during the game. I stayed warm and dry. Driving home afterward, I found myself thinking about how thankful I was to have gotten it back when I did. The timing was perfect. The weather had been nice for the last couple months. I really didn’t need it then. But I needed it last night. And that simple little moment reminded me how recovery has changed the way I see my life. Before recovery, I probably would have taken the timing for granted and moved on. But I have a new practice now because of my recovery. I review my day each night and look for God in it. I try to notice all the ways, big and small, that He is looking out for me, even when I do not realize it at the time. Getting my jacket back only a couple days before I really needed it reminded me that God was taking care of me the whole time. Honestly, I am so grateful and thankful for that, even more than getting the jacket back. And that is the gift of recovery for me.

Prayer

Father, thank You for all the ways You look out for me that I do not even notice at the time. Help me to slow down and recognize Your presence in my everyday life. Remind me to be thankful for the little things. Amen.

Right But Still Wrong

Delivery Matters

I may not owe amends for the message, but I do for the delivery.

If you’re angry, don’t let anger control you or be fuel for revenge, not for even a day.
Ephesians 4:26

Have you ever said something you knew was true, believed was right, and meant with all your heart, but said it in a way that was not representative of the person you are trying to be? I have. In fact, I just did two weeks ago while coaching my daughter’s softball team.

For the playoffs, the league made some last-minute rule changes that I strongly disagreed with. In my mind, the decisions were unfair to the girls who had worked hard and played all season long. As the games unfolded, I became more and more frustrated because I felt like the rules kept changing and the decisions being made were affecting the outcome of the games. During the championship game I confronted the league president publicly and emotionally. And honestly, I still believe the reasons for feeling the way I did are valid.

The surprising part is that we ended up coasting through the playoffs and winning the championship game easily. It should have been a great night of celebration for our team. But instead, I was awake for hours replaying the situation over and over in my mind. I have learned through recovery that when I start spinning in my mind and cannot let something go emotionally, there is usually something deeper going on inside of me. As I prayed and thought about it more, I realized I felt attacked. I felt like I was being ganged up on and dismissed. That is when I saw that my character defect of feeling “not good enough” had been triggered. Before recovery, I never would have stopped long enough to examine that. I only would have focused on proving I was right.

One of the gifts recovery has given me is the ability to honestly look at my reactions instead of only defending them. I still believe in standing up for what is right, but not at the expense of hurting others. I have learned to look at my actions and not just my intentions. I am responsible for how I deliver the message, not just the content. I may not owe amends for what I said or why I said it, but I do owe one for the way I said it. That is something I never would have seen before recovery.

I saw the league president the following weekend at a tournament. I walked over to her, lowered my sunglasses, looked her in the eyes and humbly apologized for my tone and for raising my voice. I apologized for being disrespectful and putting her on the spot publicly. She said “ok”. I have no idea what that may mean. But I know I felt better and that weight was lifted off of my shoulders. The thing I couldn’t stop replaying in my mind finally let go from that moment on. That is the gift of recovery for me.

Reflection
Have there been times when you were so focused on being right that you never stopped to look at how you were delivering the message?

Not Me Anymore

A Noticeable Change

One of the things I’m learning in recovery is that having an off day does not mean I am back to being the old person I used to be.

My dear brothers and sisters, always be willing to listen and slow to speak and slow to become angry. James 1:19

The other day at work, I was having an off day. I was short with people, snippy, and clearly frustrated. We were running behind, and I was trying to figure out why. I walked into the hallway and saw two employees standing there. I asked them what their roles were for the day. They started explaining why things were behind, but I interrupted them and said quickly, “I just want to know your role today.” They answered, and I walked away frustrated. A few moments later I asked another employee the same question. She looked at me and said, “I haven’t seen you in a while. You don’t talk to us that way anymore.” The moment she said it, I knew instantly that she was right. I stopped, took a breath, changed my tone, and said, “You’re right. I’m sorry.” Then I calmly asked her what was going on, and she explained the situation to me.

As I walked back down the hallway, one of the other employees stopped me and said, “I didn’t appreciate you snapping at us like that. We didn’t deserve it.” Before recovery, I would have gotten defensive. I would have justified my attitude or blamed stress or pressure. Instead, I paused and listened. I looked at her and said, “You’re right. I was wrong. You didn’t deserve that. Please forgive me.” She smiled and said, “No problem. I figured you were just having a bad day. That’s normally not like you.” Honestly, that one comment meant more to me than she probably realized. It showed me that growth is happening in my life. Not because I never have bad moments anymore, but because those moments are no longer who I am. There is a noticeable change that I wasn’t trying to force. It just is happening. Trusting the recovery process really works.

I walked away from that conversation genuinely grateful. Grateful that people felt safe enough to confront me honestly. Grateful that I was able to hear it without shutting down or lashing out. Grateful that I could admit I was wrong and immediately make it right. But more than anything, I was grateful that my behavior stood out as unusual instead of normal. Recovery is not making me perfect. I still have off days just like everyone else. But today those moments are the exception instead of the norm. I am finally becoming the kind of person I had always hoped to be. And that is the gift of recovery for me.

Prayer

Father, thank You for the changes You are making in me day by day. Thank You that I no longer have to react the way I used to. Help me to stay teachable, honest, and willing to listen when I am wrong. Remind me to slow down and show grace to others. Continue shaping me into the person You want me to be. Amen.

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.

Learning How to Be There

Presence Over Control

I’m learning through my recovery that sometimes the most loving thing I can do is to stop trying to fix people and just be there with them.

Be happy with those who are happy. Be sad with those who are sad. Romans 12:15

I’ve heard it said that recovery is a selfish program. And honestly, it is. In the rooms of recovery I have learned that I need to start taking care of myself. Really taking care of myself. My whole self. Taking responsibility for my actions and facing my own issues. I had to learn that I needed to put on my own oxygen mask before trying to help everyone else with theirs. Before recovery, I was always trying to help everyone else get their oxygen while I was suffocating myself and could not breathe. I rarely focused on facing my own needs or healing. I focused almost entirely on what everybody else wanted, needed, or expected from me. Or at least what I thought they did. But I am learning that if I don’t take care of myself emotionally, mentally, and spiritually, I won’t have anything healthy to offer anybody else.

Somewhere along the way, I got part of that mixed up. My wife recently had surgery, and leading up to it, I wasn’t as supportive as I could have been. I meant to be and wanted to be, but I reverted to old behavior. I kept focusing on trying to help her “not be afraid.” I wanted to fix the fear she was feeling instead of simply recognizing that fear before surgery is normal. It’s human. Instead of just sitting with her in it, reassuring her, and being present, I kept trying to move her away from what she was feeling.

In recovery I am learning that sometimes people just need support, reassurance, and comfort. Sometimes they just need someone to be there. Sometimes they may need help that I actually have the ability and capacity to give. I have learned to stop trying to fix everybody else. If I want to fix anyone, I need to focus on fixing me. I can help without fixing or being in control. I can help even if things are not done my way. I can help by just being there and letting people be who they are. I am learning, slowly, that it is healthy to still care deeply about others even when I am unsure of outcomes. And that by doing that, I am taking care of myself too.

I am grateful and thankful for my recovery program and the tools I have learned. Fortunately, by using them, I was able to correct my behavior and do just that on the day of the surgery. I was supportive. I acknowledged the fear. We prayed about it together. I assured her she was not alone in this, not just with my words but with my presence. I was just there with her, and I let her guide the emotions and conversation instead of trying to control or redirect them. I truly felt supportive, like I was showing real compassion and care. I was showing her that she was important. In short, I was showing her love.

Working through the steps of recovery, I am learning that taking care of myself is important. But healthy recovery is not becoming emotionally distant from the people I love. Sometimes the people I love are afraid. Sometimes they are hurting. Sometimes they don’t need me to fix their emotions or talk them out of them. Sometimes they just need me to sit with them, care about what they’re feeling, and let them know they are not alone. That’s something I am learning a little more every day. And that is the gift of recovery for me.

Prayer

God, thank You for teaching me how to care for myself in healthy ways without becoming distant from the people I love. Help me to stop trying to control or fix everyone around me. Teach me how to be there and listen. Amen.