My New Normal

Grateful For Peace

Recovery didn’t just change my habits. It changed what normal feels like.

You, Lord, give true peace to those who depend on You, because they trust You. Isaiah 26:3

When I sat down to write today’s devotional, I was completely stumped. I had nothing. No big realization. No powerful moment. No dramatic story. I started thinking back over my day, trying to figure out what I could possibly write about. But honestly, the day was uneventful. It was just a normal, calm, and peaceful day. Then I sensed that still small voice rising up inside me. I knew that was God revealing to me that most days these days are normal just like this one. And that’s life now. I was so encouraged by that.

I paused and pondered that thought for a minute. My life today is mostly made up of normal days. Quiet days. Peaceful days. Uneventful days. And as I reflected on that, I was so very grateful. A small smile crept across my face. What I now call normal used to seem impossible for me to ever achieve before. It always seemed unattainable. Like a proverbial dangling carrot out in front of me that I could never reach no matter how hard I tried. But somewhere along the way, a real actual change took place in my thinking and in my life.

Before recovery, my normal days were filled with chaos, anger, frustration, disappointment, confusion, and sadness. There was always some kind of crisis, conflict, or emotional exhaustion happening in my life. The peace I occasionally felt was temporary and fleeting. It never lasted. Calmness was unfamiliar and felt very uncomfortable because I was so used to living in survival mode. If my adrenaline wasn’t maxed out I felt like something was wrong. But my recovery program slowly changed all of that. By working the steps with my sponsor, listening to others, applying the principles, and following the recommended solution, my life began to change little by little.

Today, I have a new normal. My new normal is peace. My new normal is calm. My new normal is stability. Not every day is perfect by any means. Life still has its challenges, and some days bring bad news that try to steal my peace. But I have learned that it’s not always what happens that determines whether I keep my peace, but how I respond to it. Most days, though, are no longer filled with chaos and emotional turmoil. They are just normal days. And I am deeply grateful for that. That is the gift of recovery for me.

Prayer

Father, thank You for the peace You have brought into my life. Thank You that my life is no longer filled with constant chaos and confusion. Help me to continue trusting You and responding to life in healthy ways. Teach me to protect the peace You have given me and not take these normal peaceful days for granted. Amen.

How Important Is It?

Protecting My Peace

One of the greatest gifts of recovery is learning what to let go of.

Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. Colossians 3:2

Before recovery, I reacted to almost everything. If someone embarrassed me, challenged me, disrespected me, or hurt my feelings, I usually had one of two responses. I would either lash out and launch into a verbal barrage, using my intellect and vocabulary to hurt and insult people without them even realizing it until they went home and looked up the words I used. Or I would keep it all inside and carry it around for hours, days, or even longer. I replayed conversations and situations over and over in my mind. I built resentments. I lost sleep over things that really were not nearly as important as they felt in the moment.

The other day at my daughter’s softball game, one of the players got upset with me after I asked her to move in a little closer on the infield, something I regularly do with all the players. She started yelling at me, telling me she couldn’t do it. I let it go and figured I would deal with it later. Then her parent came over near the dugout and loudly yelled at me and the other coach, saying that I should not be talking to her daughter and that someone else should be. It was loud enough that everybody in the bleachers heard it. Honestly, it embarrassed me. I acted like I didn’t hear it, but inside I definitely felt it.

In that moment, one of the recovery slogans that has helped me many times over the years came into my mind: How important is it? When the girl and her parent each yelled at me, the first thing that came to mind was this slogan. That might not seem like a big deal to some people, but it is to me because before recovery my instinct would have been to react, defend myself, or lash back out. Instead, I realized this was just an upset child and an upset parent at a softball game. I did not have to let their chaos affect me and steal my peace. I didn’t have to defend myself, react, argue, or make a scene. Recovery has taught me that not every situation deserves my energy. Sometimes the healthiest thing I can do is let it go and keep my peace.

The realization didn’t really stand out to me until the next morning. My wife and daughter both commented on how calm and even tempered I had been in that situation. They noticed that I just let it go and didn’t react. The truth is, I would have never handled something like that this way before recovery. And what means the most to me is that I wasn’t trying to act different or make people think I had changed. I was just being me. That was my new instinct. As I reflected on it, I realized this was not just about one moment at a softball game. Recovery and working the steps have genuinely changed me from the inside out. It also doesn’t eat at me afterward the way it used to. When my mind tries to replay the situation, I just ask myself again, How important is it? And when I do that, I realize it usually is not important at all. I don’t lash out. I don’t lose my peace. I don’t build resentment or lose sleep over it either. That is the gift of recovery for me.

Prayer

Father, thank You for changing me from the inside out. Thank You that I do not have to react the way I used to. Help me to continue to walk in peace and wisdom. Help me to let go of what is not important and keep my mind focused on You. Amen

Freedom Through Honesty

Seeing What Was Already There

What I thought would destroy me was the very thing that led me to freedom.

You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free. John 8:32

Like most people in recovery, I first came because of a broken relationship. I was hoping to learn how to fix it. I remember when I had the aha moment. I was frustrated and telling my sponsor, “I’m getting mixed messages and I’m confused.” He smiled and said to me, “You’re not getting mixed messages. She said plainly she didn’t want to be with you anymore. How is that a mixed message?” I said, “Because we still live together.” He said, “That is not a mixed message. She told you her truth. You just don’t want to believe it.” When he said that, it finally sank in. Almost like it had been there the whole time, but was invisible to me. Looking back, I think he had probably been trying to help me see that for a while. I was so stuck in denial that I could not see it, even from him. I wasn’t confused. I wasn’t lacking information. I was choosing not to believe what was being said to me plainly. That day I realized something I wish I had learned much sooner. When people tell me their truth plainly, I need to believe them. They mean it. I could have saved myself so much frustration, anger, and pain if I had learned that one sooner.

What I slowly began to realize in recovery was that I was not confused nearly as much as I was in denial. Denial had such a grip on me that it was easier to believe what I wanted to be true than what I could clearly see right in front of me. It was almost like I had brainwashed myself into believing my version of reality instead of accepting what was actually happening. Facing reality meant facing pain, grief, and loss, and at the time I did not think I could handle that. I kept hoping things would change. I kept believing that if other people would just change their thinking, change their behavior, or come around to my point of view, then everything would be okay. So I poured enormous amounts of energy into trying to manage outcomes, force conversations, control situations, and hold things together that had already fallen apart. The more I fought reality, the more exhausted, frustrated, angry, and emotionally drained I became. I even pushed away one of the closest friends I ever had because he tried to tell me the truth.

Recovery has taught me to open my eyes and look honestly at what is happening in my own life. What surprised me was that accepting painful truth actually brought me more peace and serenity than denial ever did. What was uncomfortable and painful was actually the very thing that led me to freedom.

As I continued working my recovery, I started realizing this way of thinking went all the way back to my childhood. Growing up in an alcoholic home, pretending things were okay often felt safer than admitting they were not. Denial became normal to me. But recovery taught me that honesty is safer than illusion. Today, I still do not enjoy painful truths or difficult situations, but I try not to explain them away anymore either. I try to face what is real, bring it honestly to God, and trust Him enough to walk me through it instead of hiding from it. I have learned that acceptance brings far more peace than denial ever did. And that is the gift of recovery for me.

Prayer

Father, thank You for bringing me through my denial and revealing the truth to me. Give me the courage to face difficult truths honestly. Help me to trust You in the midst of them. Thank You for the comfort You give me to help me through it. Amen.

One Step at a Time… Again

Back to Basics

Drift doesn’t announce itself. It just shows up quietly. Before I even notice.

So, if you think you are standing firm, be careful that you don’t fall! 1 Corinthians 10:12

This week after meeting with my sponsor, I realized something that caught me off guard. For the first time, I hadn’t completed all my work and assignments. I had been so busy that I completely forgot to finish it. It wasn’t a relapse. It wasn’t a slip. It wasn’t even a major issue. But it got my attention. I didn’t like it, not at all. It borderline scared me that I could drift and be completely unaware of it. It made me stop and think. Why did I forget to finish my work? I didn’t even think about it. That’s when I have to stop and be honest with myself. Something has changed, and if I don’t catch it here, it will only grow and get worse.

I’ve learned to pay attention when something feels a little off. I look to see if I’m too busy, a little more distracted, a little less focused, or starting to think maybe the old way could work. That’s when I need to ask myself some questions. Am I still attending the same number of meetings? Am I still doing my step work? Am I still praying and seeking God? When I really look, I usually find something in these basic areas has shifted. It’s a symbiotic relationship. It’s simple cause and effect. When my recovery disciplines start to slip, my thinking soon follows. And vice versa. That awareness has become a check and balance system for me.

This is where this mindset helps me keep going. If I’ve done this before, I can do it again. I don’t have to feel discouraged or beat down. I don’t have to entertain lies. I don’t have to feel like I’ve lost everything. This stuff really works if I apply it to my life. So I go back to the basics, to what got me here. One moment. One hour. One day at a time. That’s how I started, and that’s how I continue. The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step… the next right step again.

I don’t say this because I’ve relapsed or slipped. I say this because I don’t want to. I’ve seen this work in my own life. I know that I know that I know that I know that if I do my recovery disciplines, they will work. I feel better about myself. I know I am changing. That brings me peace, happiness, and serenity. That gives me confidence. It allows me to throw my shoulders back, lift my head high, have a smile on my face, and keep going on. My life isn’t over. I’m still moving forward. I’m still growing. And that is the gift of recovery for me.

Prayer
Father, thank You for helping me see when things start to drift. Help me stay aware and honest with myself. Show me where I’ve slipped and give me the willingness to go back to the basics. Keep me grounded in the disciplines that brought me here. I don’t want to go backward. I want to keep moving forward with You, one step at a time. Amen.

When I Changed, Everything Changed

From Control to Peace

The change I was chasing didn’t start with them. It started with me.

First clean the inside of the cup and dish, and then the outside will also be clean. Matthew 23:26

I was listening to a newcomer share their story, and it brought me back to when I first came into recovery. I can still remember all the times I tried to fix the addiction of my qualifier. I destroyed their drug of choice. I left books, articles, and magazines out on the coffee table, opened to the exact page I wanted them to read. I underlined lines so they would see it. I left Bibles open with verses highlighted, hoping something would finally click. I knew that I could not change them. Any change would have to come from their own self-awareness. I was hoping my “hints” would nudge them and help them discover it on their own, that they needed to change. These were my hints about the damage addiction was causing, not just to them, but to our relationship and our family.

At the time, I was at my wits end. I was depressed, alone, sad, and angry. My life and family were falling apart. In recovery, we call that out of control and unmanageable. I really thought I was helping. I thought if they would just change, everything would be better. I would be happy. Our life would be better. Our family would be whole. I believed the solution was to fix them. I see now that what I called helping was really control and manipulation.

Since working through the steps of recovery, I have discovered how I used these same tactics in my dealings with other people, not just the addict. Friends, coworkers, subordinates, supervisors, customers, basically everyone I met. I was trying to get them to do what I wanted, what I thought was best. I did this through manipulation and control. I may have gotten an initial response, but seldom did it ever stick, and many times resentment was left behind. I was always left frustrated. I have learned that this was a form of pride showing up because of my low self-esteem. I didn’t think I was good enough, so I overcompensated by making myself, in my own eyes, the one with the answers. I felt uncomfortable not knowing how to deal with situations where I wasn’t in control. Trying to be in control of everything and everyone is what made me feel safe.

Recovery has taught me to focus on me so that I can have peace and happiness even in the middle of chaos. That kind of thinking wasn’t immediate. I didn’t come into recovery wanting to change myself. I wanted to change the situation. By that, I mean I wanted to change them. I thought I was right and they were wrong, and that became my problem. Over time, attending meetings, working the steps, and meeting with my sponsor, something started to shift. I began to see things differently. Think differently. And because of that, I began to experience the peace I had been chasing. Even though the other person didn’t change at all, I changed. I just noticed one day things looked different. They were suddenly better. I felt different. I was happy. I started liking who I was. That was a first. When I changed, everything else changed. That is the gift of recovery for me.

Prayer
Father, thank You for leading me to recovery. Thank You for showing me things I couldn’t see before. Help me to keep focusing on my part. Help me stop trying to control everything and everyone else. Teach me how to trust You fully. I surrender to You and Your will. Keep changing me from the inside out. Amen.

Practicing Sobriety in All Areas

Small Changes Matter

Recovery isn’t just emotional. It shows up in how I live every day.

I discipline my body and keep it under control so that after preaching to others I myself will not be disqualified. 1 Corinthians 9:27

Several weeks ago I woke up feeling off. I was off-balance, nauseous, and dizzy. I didn’t know why. It caught me off guard and honestly, it scared me. I did a little reading and found it could be something as simple as dehydration, exhaustion, or poor diet. I had stayed up way too late the night before and hadn’t eaten or drunk any water, so it made sense to me. But it still scared me. I drank some water, had a light snack, and laid down for a nap. When I woke up, I felt much better. I wasn’t quite 100%, but I knew something wasn’t right before, and something needed to change. As I thought about it more, I started to realize this is part of my recovery too. I saw that I could practice sobriety in my physical habits, not just my emotional life.

It was a wake-up call for me. I’ve known for a while, and I’ve even written about it, that I need more sleep. I need to eat better. I need to exercise. But knowing it and doing it are two different things. I might have had a day or two where I got enough rest. A day or two where I ate better. Once in a while, I even tried to exercise. But there was no consistency. And the truth is, this is just as much a part of my recovery as the emotional healing. It’s not a sickness. It’s a lifestyle. Habits. Bad habits.

The 12 steps gave me a practical, structured way to deal with my emotional life. They helped me face things, process them, and begin to heal. There was a decision, followed by a process of small actions. I finally saw that I needed that same kind of structure in my physical life too. Not because something is wrong with me, but because something needs to change. I can’t keep living one way and expect to feel another. This isn’t about being perfect. It’s about being intentional.

So I made a decision to put structure in place. I created a schedule and committed to follow it. It included set times for bed, waking up, connecting with God, exercise, and writing, and a conscious choice to eat better. This was my personal structure, not counting everyday life, work, or responsibilities. This was about me learning to be healthy in my body as well as my soul.

So far it’s been working, and I feel so much better. I’m recognizing my progress in this area and not demanding perfection from myself. I’m not expecting overnight change, and I’m not going to beat myself up if I slip. I’m taking one step at a time, one day at a time, and I keep moving forward. I am breaking old habits and replacing them with new ones. One thing I didn’t expect is how much my self-esteem has grown. I feel better about myself and who I am. That’s the gift of recovery to me.

Prayer
Father, thank You for showing me what I need to change. Help me to follow through and not just know what to do. Give me strength to discipline my body in my daily habits. Teach me how to take care of this body You’ve given me. Amen.

I’m Not Who I Was

Not Defined By My Past

My identity isn’t who I was then. It’s who I am now.

If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come.
2 Corinthians 5:17

I’ve lived long enough to know what it feels like to be hurt. I’ve experienced difficulties, pain and trauma, even some health issues and concerns. People have hurt and mistreated me. I have been tricked, lied to and taken advantage of. I have survived experiences that left a lasting mark. They’ve caused wounds, and those wounds have left scars behind. But none of those things define me. They are unfortunately just the toll of life.

What I love about recovery is that it gives me practical tools and new skills to use. They help me heal and recover from the wounds and scars. It’s not salve that magically heals everything, nor is it a catch-all for every problem or situation. But it provides me with a different way of thinking. It teaches me to approach life differently. I am not a victim. I am not damaged or broken. I am not ruined or irreparable because of the things that have happened to me. Instead, I approach life as a whole person who has had bad things happen to me. And when I see myself that way, I’m able to confront, deal with and recover from the damage that was left behind.

I call that emotional collateral damage. It is what has happened to me as a result of the trauma and abuse that I experienced as a child. Those wounds, although sometimes still very painful, can be healed completely. It’s not like a surgery where they go in and remove the problem organ, and it’s all gone in one moment. This kind of healing is a process. It takes time. The damage and scars didn’t develop suddenly overnight and they’re not going to go away suddenly overnight either. This is what the Bible describes as the renewing of the mind and the saving of the soul. It’s a process that takes time as I grow into the full nature of a child of God.

And that’s where I live today. I’m not pretending those things didn’t happen, but I’m not letting them define me anymore either. I’m learning how to deal with what’s been left behind, one layer at a time. Sometimes that looks like choosing a different response when I feel hurt. Sometimes it’s simply talking about what I’m feeling instead of holding it in. Some days are harder than others. Some wounds are still tender and hurt when something hits them. But I’m not stuck there like I used to be. I’m healing. Not all at once, but steadily. I’m not who I was, and I’m not stuck where I’ve been. I’m moving forward into what God has for me.

Prayer
Father God, thank You for being my healer. Help me to face the hurts from my past instead of avoiding them. Give me strength to walk through them. Guide me and help me as I continue moving forward in You. Amen.

A Blank Canvas

What Will I Paint Today?

Today hasn’t happened yet. I get to choose how it unfolds.

I call heaven and earth as witnesses today against you, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing; therefore choose life… Deuteronomy 30:19

In my reading time this morning, I came across something that stuck with me. It said today is a day full of hours and minutes in which nothing has happened. I haven’t made any mistakes. I haven’t suffered any trouble. As I paused and meditated on those thoughts, I closed my eyes and saw a blank white canvas sitting on an easel, and I was the painter. The canvas was clean, open, and untouched. Just waiting for something to be painted on it. And I sensed God asking me, “What do you want to paint today?” That question felt bigger than I expected. It literally stopped me. At first my mind went blank, just like that canvas. Completely empty. I thought I have absolutely no idea what to paint. Am I even qualified to make such a big decision?

Then it hit me. This is my life. What do I want to see in it today? No wonder I used to feel like a victim. I wasn’t choosing anything. I was reacting to whatever came at me. The day painted itself, and I was just along for the ride. That’s what made life feel unmanageable and out of control. But today is different. I actually do get to choose what goes on this canvas. I get to choose the colors. I can paint peace or panic. Patience or frustration. I can reach for the same old colors like fear, resentment, and avoidance, or I can try something different like gratitude, honesty, and pausing before I react. Some days it feels easier to grab the familiar colors. They may not look good, but I know how to use them. But recovery is teaching me I don’t have to default to them anymore.

What feels new to me is that God is even asking me that question in the first place. What do you want to paint? I never used to think that way. I used to think everything was already decided. Like I didn’t really have a choice. Life just happened to me and I had to deal with it. That kind of thinking kept me stuck. It kept me reacting instead of choosing. But recovery has shown me something different. I do have choices. God has shown me that I have a say in what my life looks like today. The rest of my life is a blank canvas that has not been painted yet. It has not yet been determined. I get to choose how I respond. I get to choose which direction to go. And I get to do that without guilt. Realizing that is freedom. And that is the gift of recovery for me.

Prayer
Father, thank You for showing me that I have a choice. That You have given me that freedom. Help me slow down and choose wisely. Lead me and guide me each step of the way. Amen.

How I Stay Safe

Noticing The Little Things

I didn’t notice it… until it wasn’t there.

Whoever walks in integrity walks securely, but whoever takes crooked paths will be found out. Proverbs 10:9

When I got out of the shower this morning, I stepped onto the floor and my foot slipped. For a moment I thought I was going to fall and hit my head on the tub. It scared me. It caught me off guard. I’ve never done that before. I wondered, why did I slip? I shower every day, and I had never slipped like that before. Then I realized something. The mat that’s normally outside the shower wasn’t there. My wife had taken it to wash it. I’m grateful she takes care of those things, but it hit me. That mat has been there every day, keeping me from slipping, and I’ve never once really noticed it. I didn’t think about it. I didn’t appreciate it. Until it wasn’t there.

It made me start thinking about how many things in my life are like that. The small, consistent things that I don’t pay attention to, but they’re actually holding me up and keeping me safe. In my recovery, it’s things like: my daily time with God, journaling, attending meetings, talking things out, sharing honestly. None of those feel big in the moment. They just feel like part of my daily routine. But I’ve noticed when they’re missing, that’s when I start to slip, just like I did on that floor. That’s when I feel it. I’m not always aware and grateful in the moment for them. I just expect them to be there.

Today I’m grateful for the little things. The things that don’t get noticed but make all the difference. The things that keep me grounded and from falling back into old patterns. They may seem small, but they’re not. They are what keep me safe, and keep me from slipping, just like that mat did. They are the important things. And when I stay consistent with them, I don’t just avoid slipping, I stay safe and I keep growing. And that’s the gift of recovery for me.

Prayer
Father, thank You for the little things in my life that I don’t even notice. The things that keep me safe. Help me stay aware, stay consistent, and not take them for granted. Help me continue doing the small things every day that keep me safe. Amen.

A Different Approach

Peace Instead of Pressure

I used to go home and replay everything. This time, I had peace.

If you do what is right, you will be accepted. But if you do not do what is right, sin is ready to attack you. That sin wants to control you, but you must control it. Genesis 4:7

I coach my daughter’s softball team. I have coached my kids’ teams for several years, so I’m not new to this. But I saw something different in me during our last game. We lost the game, but our team played well and we actually had a chance to win. We just made some mistakes. What does this have to do with recovery?

What I noticed is my attitude was different in that game. I’m very competitive. I play hard, I coach hard. I try to win every time. All the time. And in that game, I did not feel any of that pressure. I felt something different. I just enjoyed being in that moment. In the past, I would’ve been very frustrated during the game. I would’ve gone home and spent hours spinning in my mind, thinking about all the things we could’ve done differently and what we could’ve done better. When I got home that night, instead I was at peace. I was happy. I had fun. Yeah, we lost the game, but it was still fun. I was able to have fun and be proud of our team and how they played and performed regardless of the scoreboard. It was a close game. I think we could’ve won. But that didn’t matter. I was really proud of the girls and I noticed that’s all I was thinking about. That was such a different approach for me, even from last year when the other coaches commented that I was intense. But I didn’t feel intense that night, not at all.

I’m confident that the change in my feelings and behavior is a direct result of the work I’ve been doing in my recovery. I’ve been spending more time journaling and doing step work. Focusing on my behaviors. Attending regular meetings. Practicing the third step prayer. Setting aside time for my writing. I’ve been trying not to improve anyone else, but myself, specifically my spiritual life and my connection with God. That’s what’s made the difference. And that’s the gift of recovery for me.

Reflection
What can I do today to put myself in a position to see change in my life?

Put Down the Magnifying Lens

Pick Up The Mirror

When I put down the magnifying lens and picked up the mirror, things started to change.

If we honestly examine and evaluate ourselves then we will not be judged and punished. 1 Corinthians 11:31

One of the biggest aha moments I have had since starting recovery is seeing how the Bible talks so much about recovery. It may use different terminology, but it is absolutely recovery principles. Not surprising to me, as I have since learned that the 12 Steps were based on the Bible and are outlined in order in the beatitudes. Now I see recovery everywhere in the Bible, like this verse here. It tells me that if I look at and evaluate myself honestly and judge myself, I will not have to be judged and punished. I got hung up on the word judge in this verse until I looked it up and saw that it means if I examine myself and change, I will not be condemned. This is talking about doing an honest moral inventory, changing behaviors, and making amends. That sounds a lot like recovery just in different language. But it’s the same principle.

Too many times I used to judge others instead of myself. I was looking at what others had done to me and not at what I had done to them. I would look at myself and try to see what I had done, but I would dismiss my actions and behaviors because I had good intentions. I meant well. So I would justify my actions instead of looking at how I could change them. Good intentions did not excuse my actions or dismiss my bad behavior. That sounds a whole lot like denial to me. I once heard someone say, Once I put down the magnifying lens and picked up the mirror, my life got a lot better.

In my Christian life I’ve heard many teachings about the idea of actions versus intentions. I would walk away thinking that when I see others’ actions, I should consider their intentions and offer them grace and understanding. I see now that I missed the underlying point. The axiom is: why do I judge others by their actions while I judge myself by my intentions? I would pose a new thought process: don’t let my intentions justify my actions. Instead, let me look at my actions strictly as my actions in spite of my intentions. When I keep the focus on me and look at how I can better myself in these situations, I can always see that I have a part. My part may be anywhere from 1% to 100%, but I definitely have a part. And that’s the part I have to deal with.

Reflection

Where can I look in the mirror instead of through the magnifying lens?

I Cannot Tell His Story

Peace Through Perspective

I can’t tell his story. But I can change mine.

Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart. 1 Samuel 16:7

What I knew about my dad was that he was a master sergeant in the Marines. He trained paratroopers. He was injured on a jump when one of the lines sliced him, leaving a scar across his abdomen. Although he never identified himself as an alcoholic, I know he drank a lot, and when he drank, he got drunk. And when he was drunk, he was often mean and violent. That’s what I experienced growing up. There were times when he wasn’t like that. But there were many times when he was. He was estranged from his biological children, and I believe he carried resentment from that into our home. For most of my life, that’s the story I told myself about him.

As I’ve gone through recovery, I’ve started to see how much of that experience shaped me. He demanded things be done right. Not just done, but done perfectly. I remember washing his diesel truck and missing a few spots on the grill. He inspected my work and instead of having me fix that one area, I had to wash the entire rig again. Hours of work, over something small. The same thing happened with mowing the lawn. It had to be cross cut, then diagonal cut. It had to be done a certain way, and if it wasn’t right, I had to start over. That mindset stayed with me. I learned to strive for perfection. I learned that getting it wrong meant starting over. And while that shows up today in doing things well, it also shows up as pressure and an impossible standard I can’t always meet. I have learned those were unrealistic expectations.

After I got into recovery and started working through the steps my sponsor pointed out something I didn’t want to see or admit. He said that I seemed to have a hatred for my dad. I denied it. I was a Christian and I didn’t have hate in my heart for anybody. But as I worked through the steps, I found that there was hatred in my heart for him. My sponsor suggested I do a fourth step just on my dad. So I did. It was a very long fourth step. It took me months.

In doing that, I realized something that changed everything for me. I cannot tell my dad’s story. Outside of what I experienced, I knew very little about him. That helped me begin to see him as a person instead of a monster. I’m not excusing what he did. But when I started to understand there was more to him than what I saw, I began to develop compassion for him. I just wish I had come to that place before he passed.

Recovery has given me a way to make amends to him even though he’s no longer here. I make a living amends by changing how I live. By letting go of the resentment. By choosing to see the good in him and not defining him by his struggle with alcohol. By accepting him as my dad, the man who raised me. Most of my life I called him my stepdad. I kept that distance. Today, I call him my dad. I love him for who he was, not what I wished him to be. And there is a peace in that I can’t fully explain. That is the gift of recovery for me.

Prayer

Father, help me to be honest about what’s in my heart. Give me the courage and strength to let go of the resentments and pain I’ve carried, and help me offer forgiveness instead. Thank You for the healing and peace that comes with that. Amen.

What’s Really Bothering Me

Looking At My Part

When I stop and ask why I’m really upset, the answer usually has nothing to do with the other person.

Let us examine our ways and test them, and let us return to the Lord. Lamentations 3:40

Someone called off work on a really busy day. We were already short staffed coming off a weekend, and there was a lot going on. They didn’t say why, they just called off. I asked if they were sick and didn’t get a response. That frustrated me. And not just a little. It got under my skin. I felt myself getting angry. My mind started going right away. This is exactly the kind of thing that throws everything off. Now everyone else has to pick up the slack. Service slows down. People wait longer. It affects the whole team, the business, and our reputation. And in that moment, it felt like none of that mattered to them. And I start judging them. I start thinking, I would never do that. I would show up. I would push through. I would do what needs to be done. Why can’t other people do the same? That’s where my mind went.

I have learned in recovery that when I get worked up like that, I need to write about it. So I did. It has become my first go to. As I began writing, I was exploring my frustration and anger. Then I asked why. Why does this bother me so much? As I sat with those thoughts and got honest with myself, something else started to emerge. This wasn’t really about someone calling off work. This was about what gets set off inside me. I was upset because of how it made me look. Don’t they know how much time, energy and effort I have put into restoring our reputation? Don’t they know the sacrifices I have made here? My sponsor told me a long time ago, when I am angry ask myself what am I afraid of. Because those two are so closely connected and tied together. That is when I saw it. I was afraid of how this would reflect on me. My core issue was being hit. I was feeling like I am not good enough again.

So this whole rant about being frustrated over an employee calling off is really about me feeling like I am not good enough. I have found that every time I am upset, that feeling shows up. And it’s always about me. When I saw it this time, I actually chuckled and laughed out loud. That’s a different response than I used to have. Instead of staying frustrated, I kept the focus on me and why I was upset. I can’t control anyone else. Just me. The situation didn’t change. They still called off. We’re still short staffed. But I’m not carrying it around with me anymore. I can step back. I can breathe. I can let go of trying to control everyone else. I come back to me and focus on my part. That’s where I find peace now. And that is the gift of recovery for me.

Reflection
What am I afraid of right now?

Connection Over Control

I didn’t realize how much I was trying to control connection… until I saw it in my dog.

Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him… Psalm 37:7

This morning, I had another lesson from my dog. She’s a golden retriever and has the sweetest temperament. Every morning, I sit in my La-Z-Boy chair with my coffee and finish up my writing from the night before. In that quiet stillness, I lean back, put the footrest up, grab my laptop, and start typing. Like clockwork, within about thirty minutes, she walks in and sits right in front of me. She doesn’t move. She doesn’t make a sound. She just sits there and waits. When I’m done writing, I put the laptop down, drop the footrest, and call her over. I already know what she wants.

I reach down and pet her, love on her, hug her, pray over her, speak blessings over her, and tell her I love her. And when I’m done, she just walks away into the other room. What she wanted was connection. She wanted to be touched. She knew exactly what she wanted. And she let that need be known without demanding it. She showed up, sat there, and waited patiently for me to respond. God spoke to me through that. The lesson I got from that was simple and equally profound. She didn’t force anything. She didn’t act out. She simply made her need known, and then she trusted enough to wait for it. She trusted me to meet her need.

It made me stop and look at myself. Do I trust God that way with my needs? Do I just show up and patiently wait for His goodness? How many times do I not even let my needs be known? Or when I do, I come across demanding or frustrated instead of honest and vulnerable. How often am I unwilling to wait for what I want or need? Do I revert to old behaviors and shut down or try to force outcomes?

But today I saw something different. It was a simple object lesson for me. There’s a way to be honest about what I need without pressure, without control, and without fear. What I realized is… I want connection too. But a lot of times I’m either afraid to ask for it, or I try to force it on my terms and my timeline. And when it doesn’t come the way I expect, I miss it completely. I am seeing that it’s not about controlling how it comes. It’s about really being honest, showing up, and trusting God enough to receive it however and whenever it comes. That’s what I’m learning in recovery. Just being real about what I need, letting go of control, and trusting God with the timing.

Prayer
Father, help me to be honest about what I need. Teach me not to hide it or try to force it. Show me how to trust You and be patient with Your timing. Help me receive what You give, the way You give it. Thank You. Amen.

Why Am I Still Sitting Here?

I didn’t realize staying the same was actually a decision…

Why are we sitting here until we die? 2 Kings 7:3

I was thinking about this story from the Bible. And that question that the four lepers were deliberating hit me hard today. They said, why are we just going to sit here until we die? They had to do something different. Their reasoning was simple. If we sit here, we die from starvation. If we go into the city, we may die there too. If we go toward the enemy, they might kill us. But they also might not. Either way, sitting still guaranteed the outcome. That statement stuck with me. There are areas in my life where I’m spinning my wheels, doing the same thing and getting the same result. In recovery, they say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. If I want something different, I have to do something different. And I’m learning how closely thinking and action are tied together. So I started asking myself… why don’t I try something different? Could it be I’m afraid? The fear of the unknown is real.

Growing up in the family disease of alcoholism, I wasn’t taught a lot of the basic things most normal people seem to just know. Instead, I learned how to survive, not how to live. So I stayed stuck in defense mechanisms that worked when I was a kid. They kept me safe back then. But they followed me into adulthood, and now they keep me stuck. I did the best I could with what I knew. But recovery has given me new options. Better ones. The challenge is, it’s still up to me to use them. Where I get stuck is this. My best thinking is what got me here. The same thinking that helped me survive is also what keeps me stuck. I’ve tried to think my way out of it, and I end up right back in the same place. The truth is, I’m not going to think my way out of this on my own. I need help.

That’s what Step Five reminds me when it says admit to God, myself, and another human being. Honestly, that’s the hardest part for me. It always has been. I don’t want to let people in. That opens the door to being hurt again. But that’s exactly where change starts. I have to humble myself and be willing to be vulnerable. I have to say what’s really going on with me, not what sounds good, but what’s true. That’s why having a sponsor matters. That’s why recovery partners matter. They can see what I can’t see. They help me step outside of my own thinking long enough to try something different. Sometimes it’s not complicated. It’s just a small shift. A different response. A different action. But I wouldn’t get there on my own. And that gives me peace. Not because everything is fixed, but because I’m not stuck in it by myself anymore. The solutions don’t always show up right away, and they’re not always easy. But I’m not sitting still anymore either. That’s where I need God. Not to do it for me, but to guide me and help me take the next step instead of sitting still and staying stuck.

Reflection

Where in my life am I sitting still, even though I know I need to take a different step?