Feelings Follow Actions

Take The Next Step

Change didn’t start when I felt better. It started after I acted.

For we walk by faith, not by sight. 2 Corinthians 5:7

For most of my life I built a wall so I would not have to feel my feelings. I did not want to deal with those unpleasant emotions that made me feel so uncomfortable. I had learned how to shut things down and keep on moving. But when I came into recovery, and once I started working the steps, that door opened. And like a floodgate being released, all of those feelings and emotions I had been holding back for years suddenly started coming out. I was trying to feel them and experience them, but I did not know how. I didn’t know what to do with them. And many times they were confusing too, because they would intermingle and come at the same time. I remember a moment when I received some great amazing news and some horribly bad news within about 30 minutes of each other. My wife and I had just found out we were pregnant after several years of trying. We were elated and so happy. It was wonderful. And then a little later, I received a call that my dad had passed away. I was sad and angry. And then confused. Life and death all in less than an hour’s time. I felt happy and angry and sad all at the same time. I called my sponsor to get some help. He simply said, “Those are and feelings.” I began to realize that it was good that I was no longer running from my feelings. I was finally experiencing my emotions and acknowledging that they were real. But I also started to see how much of a roller coaster life becomes if I allow my emotions to become the determining factor for everything I do.

I’ve heard it said many times in the rooms of recovery, and I have found it to be true in my own life, that you can’t think your way into better behavior, but you can act your way into better thinking. And over time I began to see that the same thing is true with feelings. I cannot feel my way into better behavior, but I can act my way into better feelings. When I let my emotions dictate my actions, my life becomes unstable and reactive. I start making decisions based on how I feel in the moment, and that usually doesn’t lead me anywhere good. But when I choose to take healthy actions first, even when I don’t feel like it, something begins to shift. My behavior starts to change. And as my behavior begins to change, something starts to shift in my thinking. And as my thinking begins to change, my feelings begin to follow. Those simple actions, the ones that don’t seem like much in the moment, begin to calm the storm inside me.

Step Two says that we came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity. For me, the action in that step is in the word came. I would have never started believing any of this if I had not come in the first place. I had to get up out of my feel-sorry-for-myself life and take myself down the road to a place where I could hear how to change. Not every action in recovery is grand or dramatic. Many of them are simple and even mundane. Showing up. Listening. Taking the next right step. But those small actions begin to change my behavior, and when my behavior changes it is amazing how my feelings begin to change too. I came, and then I began to believe. And as I kept showing up and taking those simple actions, I started to feel different too.

Prayer
Father, help me to stop letting my feelings run my life. Teach me to walk by faith and take the next right step, even when I don’t feel like it. I surrender the outcome to You. Amen.

Recovered or Healed?

Walking It Out

Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new. 2 Corinthians 5:17

I was recently asked this question by a former sponsee, and it really got me thinking. Am I healed, or am I still recovering? It feels like one of those questions that should have a simple answer, but the more I sat with it, the more I realized there is something deeper going on.

When I look at Jesus, I see that when He healed people, He made them whole. He did not partially heal them. But then I also think about the blind man in Mark 8. Jesus laid His hands on him, and at first the man said he saw men walking around like trees. Then Jesus touched him again, and he saw clearly. That tells me something important. What Jesus does is complete, but it does not always show up all at once the way I expect it to. That is a process, even when the source is perfect.

I know what it means to be free from something. There are struggles I used to have that are completely gone. Not managed. Not controlled. Gone. They are not even a thought anymore. But there are other things that still show up in my life. I still feel not good enough sometimes. I still get my feelings hurt. I still feel left out at times. I still find myself wanting to control things or give advice when it was never asked for. Not like before, but it is still there. So am I healed? Yes. But I am also learning how to live in that healing every day.

What I have found in recovery is a place where this actually becomes real. Scripture tells us to confess our faults to one another and pray for one another, but I did not experience that in church the way I have in recovery. In recovery, there are ground rules. Honesty. Confidentiality. Accountability. People sharing what is really going on, not what sounds right. And something happens in that environment. Healing continues to show up. Not because something new is being given, but because I am no longer hiding my true self. It is a place where I can be honest and not feel exposed. A place where I can actually walk this out daily.

For me, this is what it comes down to. In Christ, I am made whole. That part is finished. But I am still being changed as I learn to think differently, to be honest, and to live differently each day. I am not trying to become healed. I am learning how to live as someone who already is. And that is the gift of recovery to me.

Prayer
Father, help me live from what You have already done in me. Teach me to stay honest, to stay open, and to walk this out one day at a time. Thank You. Amen.

Keep Coming Back

It Works

Just showing up and taking the next right step is enough.

Let us not become tired of doing good. At the right time we will gather a crop if we do not give up. Galatians 6:9

Keep coming back is something I heard early in recovery, and if I’m honest, I didn’t really understand it at first. I wanted answers right away. I wanted relief right away. Sitting still felt uncomfortable, and the process felt too slow. But something kept me coming back. Maybe it was a small sense of relief, or maybe it was just that I didn’t have anything else that was working. So I came back. Then I came back again.

I remember talking with my sponsor one day about fear. He gave me an acronym that has stayed with me ever since. Face Everything And Recover. That was a whole lot better than the way I used to live, which was Forget Everything And Run. I was a runner. I ran from problems, from hard conversations, from anything that made me uncomfortable. My running looked like avoiding and ignoring. Pretending things were not there. Thinking if I did not acknowledge them, they would just go away. Crazy thinking. That is exactly why I needed to be restored to sanity.

Even now, I still need that reminder. Life still brings difficult moments, and my first instinct is sometimes to go back to old ways, avoid it and ignore it. But today I know what to do. Instead of running away, I run toward. I go back to the basics. I go to a meeting. I call my sponsor. I do stepwork. I journal. I remind myself that I do not have to fix everything today. I just need to take the next right step and keep moving forward. I am not perfect, but I am making progress. I just have to keep coming back. And every time I do, things get a little better.

Prayer
Father, help me to keep showing up, even when I don’t feel like it. Teach me to run toward You instead of away. Give me the willingness to take the next right step today. Amen.

Learning To Grow Up

No More Proving

I’m learning that my worth isn’t tied to what I do. I don’t have to earn love and acceptance. I’m starting to see I can slow down, rest, and still have value.

When I was a child, my words and my feelings and my thoughts were those of a child; now that I am a man, I have no more use for the ways of a child. 1 Corinthians 13:11

I was doing some step work and writing about having boundaries with myself, and it started taking me deeper than I expected. I began asking myself tougher questions. They were hard to ask and even harder to answer. My first instinct was to just move on and be content with the awareness, but I had that little nudge inside me telling me I was close to something and I just need to keep going. Why do I push myself past exhaustion? Why do I feel like I always have to be doing something? Is that tied to my character defects? Feeling like I am not good enough? Rejection? Do I feel like I have to do good in order to be loved? When I honestly work the steps, I learn more about why I do the things I do. As I slow down and look at my motives, I start to see there is something deeper driving me. This stuff is real, and it really helps me. I understand why they call it a “Fearless” moral inventory. Fear almost stopped me from pursuing these feelings.

I can see how easily I place my value and worth on what I do. I want to be successful and productive. And if I am honest, since I am not financially wealthy, there is a part of me that thinks maybe I would be considered successful by doing good things, helping others, and ministering through my writing. None of those things are wrong, but I can see how I have tied my worth to them. If I am producing, I feel okay. If I am not, something feels off. I rationalize that even if what I do doesn’t produce wealth financially, maybe I would still be considered successful by enriching others’ souls. The amazing thing about step work is that once I uncover the truth about why I do what I do and find my part, I begin to see what I can do to change unwanted behaviors. Most of the time, the change first shows up in how I am thinking, not in what I am doing. It is learning to see myself and others differently. I begin to be open-minded and realize that most of my problems come from inside of me, from how I perceive what is happening in my life. There is no looking for fault or blame but simply taking responsibility to change.

I did not cause the psychological damage that was done to me, and I was powerless to stop it as a child. But I am not a child anymore. My desire now is to stop reacting like one emotionally. That is where recovery becomes practical. It teaches me how to pause, how to look at what is really driving me, and how to make a different choice. I can see now that I have been trying to prove my worth by what I do. I do not have to prove my worth or value anymore. My identity is in God. My value and worth come from Him. I rest knowing that He loves and accepts me because He is good, not because I am. I am learning how to grow up, not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually. And even now, as I write this, I feel like I am close to something new. I sense a new awareness emerging. I am just starting to see my motives more clearly. And as I learn to rest in God, I begin to accept myself as I am. That is me growing up.

Prayer

Father, help me stop trying to prove my worth. Teach me to rest in who You say I am. Thank You. Amen.

Safe With Me

Trusting Myself

How I treat myself matters. Recovery is teaching me to take better care of myself.

No one abuses his own body, does he? No, he feeds and pampers it. That’s how Christ treats the church, Ephesians 5:29

Lately I have been overextending myself. In my mind I think I am like the energizer bunny and I can just keep going and going. My body though has a different response, and if I am not careful, I will run myself into the ground. I get run down and more susceptible to getting sick. It starts by staying up way too late trying to get everything done I want to do. Even in practicing my recovery, I stay up late reading, writing, and editing. I am also trying to write a book. Consequently, I don’t get enough sleep, and I am tired the next day, not always at my best and not performing at my best. I also find that I can be less patient and short with people. My intent and heart is good, but I am not practicing healthy boundaries with myself. My intentions do not justify my actions. I am not treating myself with care and respect.

I was reading some literature this past weekend. In it the person mentioned that they set boundaries with themself. I paused. I had to reread it a few more times. It didn’t quite click with me at first, but I knew there was something there. Something I needed to hear and see. As I sat with it, I began to connect it to my own life. I have learned about boundaries, and I have set them with other people. But I never thought about setting a boundary with myself. I used to think boundaries were only about other people. Who I let into my life and how I allowed them to treat me. Boundaries helped me determine what I would tolerate and what I would say no to. But I am learning that some of the most important boundaries are the ones I need to set with myself. Was I being too hard on myself? Why do I push myself past exhaustion? Am I trying to prove something? I did not realize that I was the one who was mistreating me.

As I prayed and meditated on this, I began to see how I talk to myself and how I treat myself. I would replay mistakes and blame myself, and that would lead to shame. I would expect perfection and then feel disappointed and discouraged when I couldn’t live up to such an unrealistic expectation. I am simply being human. Sometimes I would excuse behavior I knew was not healthy. I was being codependent with myself. I crossed my own lines constantly. A healthy boundary with myself means I take responsibility for my actions without condemning myself. I rest without feeling guilty. I tell myself the truth without exaggeration. I am learning to stop crossing my own lines and calling it okay.

When I run myself down, I feel it. I feel it in my body, in my attitude, and in how I treat other people. This is not just about being tired. It is about how I am choosing to treat myself. I don’t want to keep living like that. I want to feel safe with myself so that I can trust myself. I am learning to slow down, to stop when I need to stop, and to take care of myself in a way that actually supports my recovery. That means I don’t keep pushing past my limits and calling it good. I am responsible for how I treat myself.

Prayer
Father, help me treat myself the way You treat me. Show me where I push too far. Teach me to slow down, to rest, and to live in a way that supports my recovery. I want to be safe with myself so I can trust myself. Thank You. Amen.

I Had To Ask

Humility Opens the Door to Help

Knowing I needed help was not enough. Healing began when I became willing to ask for it.

Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so God can heal you. When a believing person prays, great things happen. James 5:16

I was sharing with someone this week about my experience when I first entered recovery and was wanting a sponsor. I remember I kept wondering and couldn’t figure out why no one asked me if they could sponsor me. It was a beginner’s meeting, and I was a beginner. I was surrounded by people who clearly understood why I was there and what I was going through. The rooms were full of experience, strength, and hope. I had opened up in meetings and shared my story and the reason I was there, so people knew I needed help. But week after week went by and no one asked me if they could sponsor me. I could not figure it out. It took me a few weeks, but I finally realized that although I needed help, I had to ask for it. I had not asked.

Asking for help is a requirement. It is not optional. It is not a weakness either. It is actually a strength. And it is a basic principle of the program. For so long before recovery I was never humble enough to ask for help. Even when I desperately needed and wanted help, I could not bring myself to ask. My pride was holding me back. Fear of rejection was a major reason. It felt safer to struggle quietly than to risk hearing no.

In recovery I began to learn something different. Asking for help is not a weakness. It is a strength and a basic principle of the program. Recovery is not for those who need it. Every person I have met needs it. Recovery is for those who want it and are willing to humble themselves and ask for help.

Once I finally asked, something changed in me. That first time was so very hard. But when I did, help immediately came. It was just what I needed too. Everything else after that seemed to get easier as well. It was like a light switch got flipped on in my thinking. It had been there the whole time but had been off with a “Do not touch” sign on it. I had already asked for help once and I got it. So I thought, maybe it could happen again? I did. And it did. Now I know I can flip that switch whenever I need to. The help and the experience of others had been there all along. The availability of help was never a problem. My willingness to reach for it was.

Recovery keeps reminding me that I was never meant to carry life alone. Learning to humble myself and ask for help has been one of the ways God has guided me toward healing. That willingness to reach out is part of the gift of recovery for me.

Prayer

Father, thank You for showing me that I do not have to carry life alone. Help me stay humble to ask for help when I need it. Help me surrender my pride and my fear, and teach me to trust the people You place in my life. Thank You for the healing that comes when I reach out. Amen.

Feeding My Recovery

My Daily Bread

I cannot live on the recovery I had last year. Today I choose to feed my recovery.

Give us this day our daily bread. Matthew 6:11

I once read that the human body can survive about forty days without food before starvation sets in, and only about three days without water. That stayed with me. Food and water are not optional. They are necessities that keep my body alive. At many recovery meetings I’ve attended, we close by reciting the Lord’s Prayer. One line always stands out to me: give us today our daily bread. It is such a simple reminder. I have to eat to live. I have to drink to survive. I cannot live today on the food I ate last year. I might get by for a little while without food, but eventually if I don’t eat, I would starve to death.

What is true in the natural is also true in my spiritual life. Whether it is my relationship with God or my recovery, the principle is the same. I need spiritual food and water to survive. For me, that means doing step work with my sponsor and reading recovery literature, including the Bible. That is my food. It gives me nourishment and knowledge. Attending meetings, sharing with others, talking with my sponsor, and prayer are like water. They refresh me. They keep me encouraged. I need both to stay healthy in my recovery. I cannot live on the recovery I had last year. Even if I have twenty years of sobriety, if I am not doing the work today, my recovery will shrivel up and die. It will starve. It will become dehydrated. I open the door to relapse.

This thought may sound harsh and seem unsettling at first, but it actually gives me comfort. I am not a victim. I am not someone sitting around waiting to die. I have choices. I can read something that challenges me. I can attend a meeting. I can call my sponsor. I can pray. These are not small things. They are how I stay alive in recovery. And today I choose to take the next right action. I choose to practice this program. When I do, something shifts. I find more peace. I feel balanced. I do not swing from one extreme to another. I feel steady and grounded. Today I choose to feed my recovery.

Reflection

Am I living on yesterday’s recovery, or am I feeding it today?

I’m Sorry – A Familiar Way Out

Sometimes ‘I’m sorry’ isn’t about guilt. It’s about discomfort.

Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. Romans 12:15

I was standing there listening to someone share about something that was bothering them. I had heard them share these same concerns before. As they talked, I noticed my attention drifting, and I realized I didn’t know how to be in that moment. I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t fix it. I didn’t know how I could help. I felt unsettled, even though I couldn’t identify it at the time. So I defaulted to something instinctive, something that felt familiar and safe. I said, “I’m sorry,” and I walked away.

Later, the person told me they felt dismissed by my actions. That didn’t sit well with me. In fact, it bothered me a great deal because I care deeply for this person. I didn’t intend to brush them off, but my intention didn’t excuse my actions. What mattered was what I did and how it landed with them. That’s what stayed with me. I couldn’t shake it. So I decided to honestly write about the moment. I was looking for my part. Why did I apologize when I hadn’t actually done anything wrong? Why did leaving feel easier than staying? As I wrote, I began to see how often I say “I’m sorry” in moments like this, moments where I feel unsure, awkward, or powerless.

What became clear was that I wasn’t apologizing out of guilt. I was feeling uncomfortable. I felt powerless to fix their situation or offer any real resolution. There was no solution to point to, no action to take, and I felt helpless. Growing up in alcoholism, discomfort like that usually meant it was time to do something, fix something, or simply get out of the way. “I’m sorry” became my default way to ease that tension and remove myself from it, even when the tension wasn’t actually mine to carry.

Writing about it helped me see something I hadn’t noticed before. I say “I’m sorry” a lot, especially when I feel powerless. When someone brings me a problem I can’t solve, my instinct is to ease the tension and escape the discomfort. “I’m sorry” becomes my exit. Just a way out. What I discovered in my writing was that walking away in that moment wasn’t about dismissing the other person. It was an automatic response to regulate my own discomfort. That honest realization was unsettling. And for me, that kind of honesty with myself is usually where real growth begins.

I have learned that awareness is only part of my recovery journey. Accepting that I behave this way moves me out of denial. But where I find healing and change is when I can respond differently to this new awareness. This is where I struggle the most. My plan is to pray and ask God to help me next time I am in a similar situation, to give me patience and courage and to help me find a new default. Maybe something as simple as just staying present and being quiet.

Prayer
God, help me see when I am avoiding my true feelings. Show me my part, and help me stay honest with what I see. Help me to not just notice my shortcomings, but change how I respond. Teach me how to slow down and be present without needing to fix anything. Amen.

Only a Symptom

Usually what shows up on the surface isn’t the real issue.

Looking Beneath the Behavior

Be sure you live out the message and do not merely listen to it, deceiving yourselves.
James 1:22

I was reading in the Big Book and something jumped out at me: Alcohol is but a symptom. So, we must get down to causes and conditions. It landed pretty hard. Harder than I would have thought. I started to think and ask myself how does this apply to me as a codependent. If alcohol is merely a symptom, what in my life is only a symptom? What am I reacting to? What behaviors keep showing up that I don’t like? What am I doing that is hurting me or others, and do I keep repeating it? Those are the things I need to look closer at. I started asking what those behaviors might be pointing to. What causes and conditions are underneath them?

I realized that is what a Fourth Step inventory is for, and why it is so important. It helps me look honestly at why I do what I do and why I feel the way I feel. Those behaviors aren’t random, and they aren’t the real problem. They are patterns rising up from hurt and pain that I never learned how to deal with. I also read that my troubles are mostly of my own making. That tells me my best thinking got me here. I did not cause everything that happened to me or the pain that shaped these behaviors, but it is up to me to do something about them if I want things to change. I need healing and renewal if I want to live and act differently.

That healing and renewal is something only God can do, but I need to ask for His help. I have to humble myself to God, surrender my will to Him, and ask for His guidance to walk me through the process. I also have a part, my part, and that means I have to take action. I am learning that renewal does not happen automatically through awareness alone. It emerges as I walk through the process of working the steps. This shows up as I write honestly, tell the truth to others, and keep listening and being vulnerable.

As I do my part, God does what only He can do. That’s recovery. Because it is in the doing that my transformation and healing become real. Step work helps me see my hurt and pain, it helps me see my part, it helps me surrender to God, it helps me make amends, and it helps me heal. That is the gift of recovery to me.

Prayer
God, thank You for showing me that my behavior is often a symptom of something deeper. Help me look honestly at my patterns and not turn away from what I find. I surrender my will to You today and ask for Your guidance. Give me the courage to do the work that leads to real and lasting change. Amen.

I Love My Mom

Recovery Changed the Way I See My Mom

Break free from bitterness, bad temper, anger, shouting, slander, and malicious feelings of any kind. Ephesians 4:31

I love my mom, but she struggled with alcoholism. For a long time, I could not say that I loved her without hesitation. I am not trying to tell her story or diagnose her. I am sharing how my perspective of her changed as I worked the steps of recovery. For most of my life, I blamed her and labeled her an alcoholic. I blamed her for much of the hurt and abuse I suffered. What I came to realize later is that I never suffered at her hand. I suffered at the hands of the man she married. He suffered from alcoholism and was violent and abusive. At the time, she was a single woman raising four young children. Before she passed, she told me she believed she was doing what was best for us by finding a man with a stable income to help care for her family. She found and married one. Recovery helped me see that she was not doing things to me. She was doing what she believed she needed to do to survive, and I suffered from the collateral damage.

For a long time, I could not understand how so many people loved my mom and spoke so highly of her. I could not see her clearly because all I could see was my own hurt and pain. I couldn’t understand why she allowed this to happen. Didn’t she see how much damage her husband was causing to her children?

What I could not understand then, even though I saw it with my own eyes, is how often she tried to defend us and how much she suffered herself. She endured many beatings for it. Some things cannot be unseen, no matter how much time passes. There were moments when I even felt guilty, knowing she was being beaten while trying to protect me. I do not ever remember her being mean to me, hitting me, or ridiculing me. I remember moments when I deserved punishment and instead she showed me grace, mercy, and understanding. It took me far too long to realize she was a good woman and a very good mom.

Now I can say with confidence that I love my mom, and that she loved me. I no longer blame her for what my stepdad did to me. The resentment I carried toward her has been lifted, and compassion has taken its place. I have made amends with her the best I can, and I have also made amends with myself. That misplaced blame and resentment spilled into nearly all of my relationships and shaped how I gave and received love. Working through the 12 Steps, several times, eventually showed me that truth and offered a solution. Today I am more compassionate with others and more honest with myself. I am able to love without reservation and without condition. That is one of the many gifts recovery has given me, and I am deeply grateful.

Right Here, Right Now

Learning to live in the moment.

This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be happy today. Psalm 118:24

I remember the first time I really understood what it meant to be double minded. Scripture says that a double minded person is unstable in all his ways, but for years that felt more like a concept than something practical. One Sunday I was sitting in church listening to a guest speaker. To be honest, I was not that interested. Then my phone buzzed with a text from a family member. I picked my phone to read it. They were asking about dinner plans that evening. I immediately heard something inside me say, “Are you present, or are you being double minded?” It stopped me in my tracks. That was my aha moment. Double minded wasn’t just about the Bible or my beliefs about God, it was about how I engage in everyday life. I realized being present meant my mind and my body needed to be in the same place at the same time. My body was sitting in church, but my mind was somewhere else. I decided to put action to this new understanding. So, I set my phone down, turned it face down so I wouldn’t be tempted and distracted. I asked God to help me get something, even one thing, from what was being shared. I did. But the real lesson that day was not the sermon. It was the calmness inside my mind that stayed with me.

What struck me later was how ironic it was. I had spent years in church trying to grasp spiritual truths like this, yet it did not really come alive until after I started recovery. When it did, it was like a dam bursting open. I began to see how often my mind drifted away from where my body was. Practicing the principles of recovery has helped me put practical application to spiritual ideas like this. It was like there was another layer of denial I had never realized was being peeled away. I saw how I was still escaping in my mind from where I was physically. I would replay a past event, trying to rewrite the outcome somehow, or worry about the future and how to control it. My mind was everywhere except where my feet were planted. In reality, it was exhausting. I had never noticed before how rarely I was actually present in my own life.

Learning to keep my mind where my body was took practice, and at first it was hard. But the more I made a conscious effort to keep my thoughts focused on what was happening in front of me, the more I started to notice God working right there. Many times I received answers to things I had been praying about. Staying in the moment brought a peace and calmness that felt almost tangible. My mind was no longer rehearsing future conversations or trying to rebuild a happier past. I was right here, right now. And when I was fully present, I actually enjoyed where I was and the people around me. I decided to be there for a reason, so I started to let my mind be there too. I began to notice the laughter, the quiet, and the simple moments of everyday life opening up like a bouquet of roses that had been there all along, just waiting for me to stop and smell.

Reflection
Where do I tend to escape in my mind when I feel uncomfortable or bored?

Giving Back

Giving back is not about fixing anyone. Sometimes it is just showing up

Freely you have received; freely give. Matthew 10:8

When I first came into recovery, Andy T. was the first person I connected with. He was what they called an old timer, someone who had been active in recovery for a long time. Active did not just mean sober. It meant he kept coming to meetings (plural), worked the steps with a sponsor, and sponsored others. I met Andy in a newcomers meeting, my very first meeting and for a while my only one. After the meeting, he talked with me, encouraged me to keep coming back, and gave me his phone number. I called him more times than I care to admit.

What I did not understand at first was why someone with over forty five years in recovery would still need to come to a newcomers meeting. Being new, I was a bit skeptical, so I asked him. His answer surprised me. He said he came for me. Not because he needed the meeting, but because newcomers need to see that recovery works and that people stay. He didn’t have an agenda to teach or fix the newbies, Andy just showed up and shared his experience strength and hope. I learned right away that giving back is not about having all the answers or words to say. It is about being present. It is just being there and being willing to walk with someone who is brand new and unsure

That lesson still challenges me. Newcomers need to hear recovery from old timers, people who are living it, not just talking about it. Giving back keeps recovery alive in both them and me. After practicing recovery for almost two decades now, I realize that I might be the person who needs to show up for someone newer. If I am not showing up where the need is, I am missing part of what was freely given to me. Recovery was never meant to stop with me. It is meant to be passed on, one conversation, one meeting, one act of willingness at a time.

Prayer
Lord, thank You for the people who freely gave to me when I was new and unsure. Help me stay willing to give back in the same way, by showing up, listening, and sharing honestly. Keep me mindful that what I have received is meant to be shared. Amen.

Resenting the Weather

Letting go of expectations I can’t control

Make sure that no bitterness grows in you to cause trouble, which disturbs many people.
Hebrews 12:15

I do yard sales to supplement my income. It’s one of the ways I try to make ends meet. I buy liquidated merchandise and sell mostly online, but a couple times a month I open the garage doors and have a sale. Everything is on shelves and labeled and organized. Now that it’s set up, it’s fairly easy to manage.

One thing I’ve learned though is that for a yard sale to be successful, the weather has to cooperate. If it’s too hot, people don’t want to come out. If it’s too cold, most stay home except for the diehards. Wind or rain? Forget it. That’s a deal breaker. So good weather is essential, and for me that means seventy to eighty degrees, no wind, and clear skies. Unfortunately, I have absolutely no control over the weather. None whatsoever. And that frustrates the heck out of me, especially because it always seems like the times when the weather is bad are the times when I need the extra income the most. Before I know it, I get resentful. I’m irritated by the rain, agitated by the wind, and I can’t stand the cold. I catch myself getting offended by things that I don’t like anyway.

In my recovery, I’ve learned that when I catch myself getting angry over something completely out of my control, I need to stop and ask myself why it bothers me. The answer usually isn’t complicated. In this case, I’m upset because I can’t control the weather. That’s how resentment works. Most resentments, past and present, come from unrealistic expectations. I’ve heard it said that unrealistic expectations are future resentments, and I have found that to be true in my life every time.

My solution starts with slowing down and naming what I’m actually feeling: frustration, anger, powerlessness. Then I write about it. I ask and answer the questions I need to face. Why does this bother me? Why does this situation make me feel powerless? When I do that, I can usually identify my part. More often than not, it connects back to something inside me that feels not good enough. That is my core issue. Writing helps me see what I can and cannot control. It helps me ask better questions, like whether this is something I can change or something I need to accept. From there, I can choose a healthier response. That’s where resentment begins to loosen its grip, and that’s where quiet healing and freedom start to take root. When I follow this process in a timely way, I don’t end up owing anyone an amends. That isn’t just success. That is growth, and I’m deeply grateful for what these principles have brought into my life.

Prayer

God, help me recognize when I am holding unrealistic expectations. Keep me from letting them turn into resentments. Help me see the good in things when I feel frustrated or upset. Give me the willingness to release things to You instead of trying to control them. Show me my part more quickly, and give me the willingness to respond differently. Thank You, Lord, for the changes You are making in me. I am grateful for the growth that comes when I apply these principles in my life. Amen.

I Am My Own Qualifier

I stopped explaining myself and started owning my part.

We always think we are right, until the Lord shows us our motives. Proverbs 16:2

I went to my first recovery meeting not because of alcoholism in my own life, or in the life of someone close to me, but because I read an article that said 12 Step recovery programs offer a solution for people who are controlling and manipulative. I was looking for a solution because I had just read a comment about myself on an internet message board that said I was abusive, manipulative, and controlling. That stopped me cold. I immediately pushed back. I was not abusive. And yet, those words quietly began to churn inside me. I could not shake the feeling that they might be true. My first instinct was to fix it. I am a fixer. That is what I do. I thought I could just fix this too. I grew up in an abusive home, and I was determined never to repeat that. I had never raised my hand or my voice. I had never threatened anyone. I never even thought of hurting anyone, EVER. I did not see myself as abusive at all.

It was not until I started working my Fourth Step inventory that the truth began to surface, and it was something I could no longer avoid. The only reason I ever found that message board in the first place was because I had been snooping through the browsing history on our family computer. I told myself I was just trying to understand what was going on, trying to make sense of why my family was falling apart. But as I continued working through my inventory, the truth was impossible to ignore, and I had to admit what it really was. That was manipulation. That was control. Once I saw myself actually doing the things that the message board described, I was embarrassed. I wanted to believe no one else could see it, but the truth was everyone knew long before I did.

When I finally walked into that first meeting, something unexpected happened. I realized I belonged. I qualified, not just because of my family of origin and their lifelong struggle with alcoholism and addiction, but because of my own behaviors. The fixing. The controlling. The managing. The way I tried to change everyone else while ignoring myself. Suddenly, all the times friends and coworkers had gently suggested I consider recovery meetings made sense. They were not criticizing me. They were recognizing patterns they had already faced in their own lives and were trying to carry the message to me. I am grateful I finally embraced it. Through working the steps, I began to take responsibility for my actions and for how they showed up in my relationships. I respect other people’s personal space now. I no longer snoop or invade privacy. I accept that others hold opinions different from mine without needing to challenge, correct, or control them. I no longer feel responsible to fix everyone. I still catch myself slipping into old patterns at times, but today I recognize it sooner, take responsibility for it, and turn it over to God. I do not have to be obsessed with the outcome anymore.

Prayer
Lord, thank You for revealing to me the truth I could not see on my own. I want to be responsible for my actions. Help me remain teachable and open to change. When I feel the urge to control or fix others, remind me to pause, release it to You, and trust You with the outcome. Amen.

Wherever I Go

There are meetings everywhere.

One God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all. Ephesians 4:6

Whenever I travel anywhere, I make it a point to find a local meeting. I’ve been to meetings in many different places, New York, Oregon, Ohio, and California. Sometimes the meeting was in a church basement, a school classroom, or even a hospital annex. I’ve been to AA, NA, Al-Anon, Nar-Anon, ACOA, Celebrate Recovery, and group therapist-led recovery meetings. But in all these different settings, what always amazed me was how familiar each one felt. The moment I walked in, I saw different surroundings, different faces, different voices, and different towns, but the same hurts and the same desire to be free. The same readings, the same steps, the same language of hope and honesty.

What I’ve learned from all those experiences is that recovery works anywhere because truth works everywhere. The settings and the people may change, but the principles of recovery remain the same. They’re not limited by geography or personality. They work because they’re based on God’s Word, and He’s the One behind the healing and restoration process. The people and the rooms might look different on the outside, but on the inside we’re all just people looking for help, trying to be free from pain. We’re all experiencing similar feelings.

Today I’m grateful that I can find a meeting even when I’m not at home. There’s safety in knowing that wherever I go, and whichever meeting I find, the same principles are being practiced by people who are trying to find the same solutions I am. I’m not alone in this journey. The rooms may look different, but the message is always the same. God’s grace is there, working through people, helping us all heal one day at a time.

Prayer

Father, thank You for being the same wherever I go. Thank You for showing me that recovery works because You are working in it. Help me keep doing the work, staying honest, and trusting You to bring healing and restoration in every place and every life. Amen.