Owing an Amends

Making Things Right

Recovery didn’t take away my first instinct. It gave me a choice about what to do after it shows up.

Whoever hides their sins will not be successful, but whoever confesses their sins and stops doing wrong will receive mercy. Proverbs 28:13

I owed an amends to my wife. That’s never fun. All joking intended. In one of my recent writings, I attributed a line to a well known speaker that my wife has been saying to me for years. I honestly believed I had heard it from that speaker. My wife had told me more than once that it was her thought, but I assumed she had picked it up from the same source and just personalized it. When I used the quote publicly and credited someone else, I undervalued her. She asked me why I didn’t give her the credit.

That question stirred something in me. My addiction to being right kicked in. My need for control showed up fast. My first instinct was still to prove myself right. I decided to look it up and find out where the quote came from. What I found surprised me. There was no original source. No author. No famous speaker who came up with it. It wasn’t a quote at all. It was original. My wife had come up with it. I hadn’t just misattributed a line. I hadn’t believed her. That hurt her. But I didn’t stay there. When I found out the truth, I didn’t ignore it or hide from it. I didn’t pretend I hadn’t seen it. I had to face it and own it.

That meant I needed to make amends. I started by admitting I was wrong. I told my wife the truth about what I did and why I didn’t credit her. I came clean and owned my part fully. That wasn’t easy. The other part of the amends was correcting it publicly. So here goes. In a recent devotion I wrote called “A Decision, Followed by a Process,” that line came from my beautiful wife, Danielle. I did in fact hear a speaker talk about it and use that line. That speaker was my wife. I also went back and corrected the original post to give my wife credit for the quote. Before recovery, I would have defended myself. I would have continued to prove I was right. I would have avoided the apology and completely skipped the correction. Today, I get to be honest with myself, with my wife, and with you. I still have much work to do. I’m not finished. God isn’t finished with me either. This is the gift of recovery for me.

Prayer
God, help me be honest when my instinct is to defend myself. Show me my part and give me the courage to own it. Help me make things right when I get it wrong. I’m still learning. Thank You for staying with me as I do. Amen.

No Defense Needed

Peace doesn’t come from proving my point.

A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger. Proverbs 15:1

The other day I had a growth opportunity at work. A man came in agitated and aggressive with our front staff. They told me he had been rude to them and asked me to step in. When I approached him and listened, he seemed to realize he had overreacted and apologized to me. I thanked him, but I told him it would mean more if he apologized to the people he had been rude to. He did. Later that same day, he came back while I was helping another client and interrupted me asking for help. I calmly said to him, sir please have a seat. I’ll be with you in a moment.

When he finished his transaction and was about to leave, he asked to speak with me. When I walked over, he told me he felt I had been rude to him when I told him to sit down and relax. His version of the interaction included a tone and words that were much different than what I remembered using. I listened to him. I resisted the familiar urge to explain myself, to clarify, to defend my intent. Instead, I looked him in the eyes and said, “I’m sorry. I apologize for being rude.” He thanked me and left.

Here is the gift of recovery for me. I did not defend myself. I did not explain or justify. Even though his version was much different than mine, the possibility existed that I could have come across as rude. So I owned it and made amends. It felt good. I noticed the peace that followed. Not long ago, I would have focused on the facts and proven my point. This time, the facts mattered less than being accountable for my part. By practicing the principles of recovery, I am learning how to live with peace and respond like a grown up.

Prayer
God, help me to stop defending myself. Show me my part, even when I want to explain or be right. Help me own my part and make it right when I mess up. I want peace more than proof. Amen.

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.

The Look

Catching Pride in Real Time

What irritates me often reveals more about me than them.

Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment. Romans 12:3

I was driving to work the other day. I was cruising along with the cruise control on. Everything was fine. Then someone cut right in front of me into my lane, going about fifteen miles slower than I was. They did not ease in. They cut me off and I had to slam on my brakes so I would not hit them. I put my blinker on, went around them, and as I passed, I looked over and gave them “the look.”

After I passed them, I realized that I had just mean mugged the driver. I felt that familiar nudge from God to look inward. A self-examination moment. Why did I look at them? What was I hoping to accomplish with that look? I already got around them. I was no longer in danger. So what was that about? As I reflected on it for a few minutes, the honest answer was uncomfortable. I wanted them to feel small. I wanted them to know they were wrong. And when I stayed with that thought process a bit longer, I had to admit something deeper. In that moment, I thought I was better than them. I wanted to correct them. I was upset that I wasn’t in control over their driving. I wasn’t just irritated. I thought my time mattered more than theirs. Like I was entitled to the road. That’s an exaggerated sense of self-importance. Pride. A familiar character defect for me. That realization was hard to accept initially, but it was true.

Before recovery, I would not have even seen this. I most likely would have escalated it. I might have given “the look” and added a one-handed sign language to go with it, you know what I mean.

I have learned tools that help me. Like a spot check inventory. To ask myself why I do what I do in the moment. So that maybe next time I will be able to make a different choice. For today I will celebrate my progress and be thankful that I didn’t escalate things. And even more grateful that I was able to be aware of my behavior on my own without anyone else telling me. I’m glad that by seeking God’s will, He brings things like this to my attention. I am grateful that I am able to apply Step 10 to my daily life. To pause, look inward, and be honest with myself much sooner. Doing that helps me to let it go instead of carrying it with me all day.

Reflection
Where in my day do small reactions reveal something bigger going on inside me?

Stop Shoulding on Yourself

Why “Should” Keeps Me Stuck

So there is now no condemnation awaiting those who belong to Christ Jesus. Romans 8:1

I was meeting with my sponsor over coffee. I was sharing with him some of my thoughts and plans when he picked up on something I said and got a pensive look on his face. I asked him what he was thinking. He said, “You need to stop shoulding on yourself and get the should out of your vocabulary.” That startled me. At first, I wasn’t sure what he was saying or why it was important. I remember thinking, how would I ever get anything accomplished without “should”? That little word had quietly run my life for such a long time, and I hadn’t even realized how much power it had. It sounded responsible, even spiritual. I should be further along. I should handle this better. I shouldn’t still be struggling with this. What was wrong with that? My sponsor continued, “Should implies judgment.” When you use it, you’re judging everyone involved, including yourself.

I was confused. To me, those thoughts felt like motivation and good goal setting. But when I paused and took a look at them, I saw something different. “Should” was not helping me. It kept me stuck in defensiveness. It became another explanation for why I never faced my problems. I thought I “should,” but I never took real action. I confused the thought with actual change. Without fully realizing it, it left me feeling like a failure. I was shoulding on myself. I was comparing myself to an imaginary version of who I thought I “should” be instead of being honest about who I really was. It was just another layer of denial. Recovery is showing me that “should” isn’t an asset in my life. It’s an illusion of control that soothes my ego rather than seeing myself how I really am. Thinking that I never measure up feeds into shame and eventually turns into resentment.

My sponsor’s observation led me to do some writing and step work. I started to see how “should” kept me from being honest. That internal conflict leaked out of me in the form of being disagreeable. I was either defending myself, accusing someone else, or quietly blaming God for my situation. “Should” gave me something to think about instead of something to do. In recovery, I’m learning that I can’t think my way into change but I can act my way into better behaviors. When I’m willing to look at my part, without excuses, I finally step out of defensiveness. That honesty opens the door for me to rebuild my life.

Letting go of “should” has helped me stop lying to myself. When I stop telling myself how things should be, I can finally see how things really are, how I really am. It hasn’t been easy, but it has been rewarding. Recovery is teaching me that I don’t have to change everything at once, I just have to deal with what’s right in front of me. When I stay honest about where I am and take the next right step, I feel better about who I am and where I am. That’s how recovery works for me. I show up, tell the truth, and do the work that’s in front of me today. I trust the outcome to God.

Prayer

Father, help me stop shoulding on myself. Show me where I’m judging instead of being honest. Give me the courage to take the next right step and trust You with the outcome. Thank You for meeting me with grace, not condemnation. Amen.

Feeling Not Enough

Why I Reacted the Way I Did

However, those the Father has given me will come to me, and I will never, never reject them.
John 6:37

We have some pretty big health concerns in our family right now, and the insurance we can afford is not the best for some of the things we need. That had never really bothered me before. But hearing what my family needs and realizing certain things were not covered hit something deep inside me. My mind immediately went to money. We don’t have better insurance because I don’t make enough. And right behind that came something even heavier. If I don’t make enough, then I’m not good enough. I have no value. No purpose. In that moment, what I felt was small, weak and hurt. Just like I did when I was a kid.

It only took a few minutes for me to examine my reaction and notice what was really happening, but unfortunately not before I spouted off in my agitation and said something hurtful to my wife. “I’m sorry we don’t have better insurance and I don’t make enough money.” And then I walked away. I knew I was over-reacting, but needed to figure out why. So, I started to write about it and I saw it right away. What I was really feeling had nothing to do with money or insurance. It was much deeper than that. It was the I am not good enough character defect that had surfaced again. And with it came the fear of rejection and abandonment. What I uncovered was the feeling deep inside me that if I’m not good enough, then I won’t be wanted. If I can’t provide what’s needed, then I’ll be left. And eventually, I’ll be alone. This wasn’t a conscious thought; it was lying dormant deep inside me. And it is what set me off. I was feeling less than and insecure, and I didn’t even realize it at the time.

That’s the story fear tries to convince me of if I allow it and don’t examine my reactions and motives. After writing about it, I was able to identify it, I apologized to my wife and humbled myself and shared my realization. She hugged me deeply, said thank you and assured me she loved me no matter what. I felt accepted and valued.

What I’m grateful for today is that I can identify this stuff and put it in its proper place. I can ask myself, why am I bothered, and tell the truth about what I’m feeling. I no longer carry unresolved feelings around for years. I can clean up what I say and own my part much sooner than I ever could before. Before recovery, I never would have examined my feelings and reactions. And I would never notice what I was really feeling and let it turn into resentment that I continually lived in. Now I feel it, name it, and let it go. This is the gift of recovery for me.

Prayer
Father, show me what’s behind my reactions, especially when they are not warranted. Remind me that You never reject me and that I am accepted and loved by You. Help me to be open and honest with others so I can see how I am loved and accepted by them too. Amen.

Sarcasm Can Be Lonely

The Sobering Cost of Hiding Behind Humor

I used humor as a wall of protection, but it also kept me from being close with people. Recovery is teaching me to open up, be honest, and let God heal me from the inside out.

Surely you desire truth in the inward parts. Psalm 51:6

I was sitting in a doctor’s office recently, uncomfortable before the appointment even started. I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t like the reason I was there. And almost without thinking, I started joking. I made light comments. When they asked to verify my name and date of birth, I said Abraham Lincoln February 16, 1861. I made jokes about images on the wall in the room. I never said I was actually funny. I attempted to use humor the way I always have. It helped me feel less exposed, less powerless. If I could make someone laugh it could at least lighten the mood. Maybe I felt like I had some control over the situation when I really didn’t have any. I was definitely feeling powerless. I can remember growing up, always using humor when I was afraid. As an adult, I now recognize it as one of my defense mechanisms. When I feel unsure, scared, or overwhelmed, I try to be funny. I often feel something, but I don’t always know what I’m feeling. For a long time, the only feelings I could name were good or bad. In those moments, sometimes all I can identify is that I just know that I feel uncomfortable.

On my drive home, I started thinking about the visit and what was discussed and also how I behaved. I noticed I was joking with the nurses and assistants, but not with the doctor. It got me thinking about why I behaved differently. I started to see that this wasn’t just humor. It was sarcasm. I had to ask myself why. What I came up with was that I was trying to protect myself because I was scared. How could sarcasm protect me. Sarcasm has been a way of life for me. Sarcastically, I will say sarcasm is a second language to me. It shows up in my speech, my body language, my texting, even my writing. For a long time, I thought this was just my personality. Several years ago, a supervisor mentioned in an evaluation that I came across as sarcastic. It caught me off guard. It was direct, honest, and hard to argue with, even though neither of us could point to a specific moment or comment. It was more of an overall impression. That was the problem. Many of my remarks were not meant to offend, but they landed as dismissive and arrogant. And even when that wasn’t what I felt inside, it was what others experienced from me.

I realized I didn’t really understand what sarcasm was. So I decided to look it up. What I found out surprised me. Although sarcasm is often lumped in with humor, it wasn’t the same thing. And I saw myself in the descriptions of a person using it to defend and protect themselves. For me, it showed up most around my emotions and big decisions, when I didn’t know what to do and unconsciously tried to protect myself.

I am learning that when I use sarcasm, I am not being honest about how I feel. My sponsor calls this emotional dishonesty. Sarcasm may have helped me feel protected before, but it also kept people at a distance. Sarcasm comes across in a way that I don’t intend or feel toward others. This has led to many people in my life misunderstanding me. Sarcasm has pushed people I care about away before they had the chance to know me. These are not the qualities I want to be identified by. They belong to my old life. I am learning to slow down and pay attention when I am attempting to cover fear or discomfort. I am starting to see sarcasm for what it really is for me. Not just a habit. Not just a personality trait. But a character defect that I can surrender to God and allow Him to keep changing from the inside out.

Prayer
Father, thank You for showing me what I could not see. Help me to be honest with myself and notice when I am using sarcasm to avoid fear instead of facing it. Please keep changing me to be more like You from the inside out. Amen.

Addicted to Being Right

A fool thinks he is right, but a wise person listens to others. Proverbs 12:15

I had an aha moment after an argument with my wife. Her version of what happened was not accurate. The facts, the details, and even the way she described my motives and inner responses did not line up with what actually occurred. I was being told what I felt, and it was not true. Because of that, I dismissed everything she was saying. I told myself that if the facts were wrong, then her reaction must be her responsibility. I focused on correcting details instead of acknowledging that she was hurt. Once accuracy was in question, I stopped listening to anything else.

As I prayed, journaled, and tried to find my part, I kept coming up empty. That was unusual for me because I am normally able to see it. I even made a list of probable options, which is something I do when I am stuck. The possibilities ranged from extreme to reasonable. Maybe she was completely wrong. Maybe I was missing something obvious. Maybe past trauma was being triggered. Maybe something I said landed harder than I intended. I did recognize one comment I made that was harsh, and I apologized for it immediately. But days later, there was still distance between us, and none of my reasoning fully explained why.

I was doing some step work, and that is when I saw it. I was addicted to being right. That was my part. I was so focused on accuracy or details that I could not be present with her hurt. Being right mattered more to me than trying to understand. I kept looking for my part in the event itself, when my part was actually in how I responded to what she said. Even though I did not do what I was being accused of, my defensiveness and dismissiveness created more distance. The problem was not the facts. The problem was me and how I reacted.

My awareness came by humbling myself to God and following the prescription that recovery offers. That meant I had to stop defending myself and ask God to show me what I could not see. He did. God is faithful that way. It did not come through prayer alone. I had to do something too. I had to put legs to my prayers. I had to write and be honest with myself, and then let that truth sit for a moment. As I did, I began to see how my need to be right had become a form of self-protection and control. My character defects were being triggered, and my insistence on accuracy was just another form of denial. That realization did not excuse my behavior, but it did open the door to change. I cannot always control whether facts are understood, but I am responsible for how I respond. Letting go of my need to be right made room for honesty, connection, and healing.

Prayer

Father God, help me to humble myself and listen to others. Help me hear what they mean, not just the words they are saying. Continue to show me my part in each situation. Give me the courage to change and the power to carry it out. Amen.

Sanity Restored

Learning to See Life Without Fear

When my time of insanity ended, I lifted my eyes to heaven and my sanity was restored. I praised the Most High and honored the One who lives forever. Daniel 4:34

Life in recovery isn’t only about doing step work and confronting the hurts, trauma, and resentments from our past. It’s also about learning how to notice what is good, beautiful, and wonderful in life. That part does not come naturally to me. Years of trauma trained me to look for danger and expect disappointment. I learned to prepare for the worst because the worst often happened. Experience convinced me that getting my hopes up only led to me being let down. I lived on edge, always waiting for the next disappointment, the next broken promise, the next rug to get pulled out from under me. I rarely expected anything good to last, if it even showed up at all. That fear shaped my thinking so deeply that it started to feel like my normal. I even interpreted that fear as peace and safety because it was all I knew and was accustomed to. I know now it was not a healthy way to live.

Recovery helped me start to see that what I had accepted as normal wasn’t actually working, even though it felt familiar. A lot of my old fear-based patterns contributed to my insane thinking, and Step Two suggests this in a non-threatening way. When it says I came to believe that God could restore me to sanity, it implies that I am insane. Otherwise, why would I need to be restored to sanity? My sponsor often reminds me of two simple truths: I have insane thinking, I’m crazy and I don’t have to stay that way because God can restore me. I’ve heard it said that my best thinking got me where I was. So, I cannot count on my old thinking to find a new way to process my thoughts and feelings. Recovery offers the solution through the 12 Steps, but it only becomes real in my life when I practice it.

I’m slowly learning to lower my guard and allow myself to notice what is good without immediately searching for the catch. That’s what the gift of recovery looks like for me, discovering that I can enjoy life and appreciate what is good and beautiful. It’s like God is saying to me, “You don’t have to live on edge anymore. You don’t have to figure out how to protect yourself from every possible disaster. Let Me restore your mind, give you peace, and remove your shame.” This allows me to open up and finally embrace life and attempt to live it to the fullest. I don’t know what may happen, but today I expect good things.

Prayer Of Awareness

Lord, help me see the beauty that is already in the world. Help me notice the good things I usually overlook because I’m guarded or afraid. Open my eyes to the small gifts You place in my path each day. As I give love, help me recognize the love around me. As I offer kindness, help me see the kindness You’ve planted in others. As I choose hope, help me notice the hope You’re growing in me. Teach me to live awake, not trapped in old fears or old ways of thinking. Help me stay present to Your goodness, Your peace, and Your healing. Let me see the world the way You see it, full of beauty, possibility, and grace. Amen.

Options

Awareness Before Reaction

The simple believe anything, but the prudent give thought to their steps. Proverbs 14:15

I had a situation last week that upset me very much. I was forced to make a decision and I didn’t respond well. I felt powerless. I was frustrated. I was angry. I was hurt, and so I called my sponsor. I told him about the situation that was going on and how I reacted. He asked me a very simple question. But the answer to the question didn’t seem so simple to me. He asked me, what other options did you have? And that question made me even more upset. Because I didn’t think I had any other options or I would have done something different to begin with. But by the mere fact of him asking me what other options did you have, made me realize there were other options I could have chosen that I didn’t think about at the time. And that embarrassed me and made me even more mad.

But as I considered his question, I replayed the scenario and started to think about what other options did I have. I could have chosen to speak up sooner. I could have asked for more time to decide. I could have done nothing at all. As we talked through this, that question was followed up with another question. Which one of your character defects was being affected by this? Aargh. Of course. What is my part? I chuckled, because I knew if I could get there, I would find the solution. What I began to see was a pattern. I bottle up emotions and don’t do anything about them until one more thing becomes the tipping point. The explosion is never just about the current situation, but about all the others I ignored before it. And if I can identify that pattern and my part in it, then I am better equipped to respond healthier in the future and not have uncontrolled explosions of my emotions.

What recovery is helping me see is that I do have options. Awareness gives me space to pause and consider them. As I continue to grow, I see progress. I see this same kind of progress in other areas of my life too. It doesn’t happen all at once, but it is real, and it reminds me that recovery is working. What I used to never notice, I now see. At first, I would notice it after the fact and call my sponsor. Then I began to catch it sooner. Over time, I started to catch myself in the moment and stop. And slowly, something deeper began to change. The behaviors and attitudes that once drove my reactions are being transformed, and I am learning to respond instead of react.

Reflection
Where in my life am I reacting out of habit instead of pausing to consider my options?

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.

Pressure and Pride, Not Passion and Peace

Pressure and pride made the decision. Recovery is teaching me to slow down and choose differently.

Say yes if you mean yes. Say no if you mean no. Anything more than this comes from the Evil One. Matthew 5:37

I was asked to lead or chair at an upcoming Big Book Study meeting held online. I had never been to one and had never attended this meeting before so I thought I would check it out ahead of time. I planned to observe as a bystander last night, but I was late. Since I was only watching I didn’t think too much about it. By the time I logged in, they had finished the opening readings, the lead share and had introduced the topic. I recognized many people in the meeting from other meetings I regularly attend. This was a tag meeting, where people choose who shares next. Almost immediately after I logged in, I was tagged. Fear hit me and I froze, then I said I think I should pass since I was late and do not know the format or the topic. I was about to tag the next person, but I was encouraged to share anyway and told what the topic was. So, I did. I stumbled through a share, trying to sound insightful, but it was empty. It felt fake and I was so embarrassed. I was sharing more out of pressure than passion and peace. I realized later when I shared instead of passing, that I had said yes when I really meant no.

After the meeting ended, I sat with an uncomfortable feeling that would not go away. My intention going into the meeting had been simple. I wanted to observe. I wanted to check it out, listen, and get a feel for it. That was my intention. My desire. But when the moment came and all of those eyes were on me, I abandoned my instincts. Old thoughts rushed in. I do not want to disappoint anyone. I do not want to look unprepared. I want to be seen as capable and dependable. When I looked honestly at why I shared anyway, I had to admit it was pride. It showed up as wanting approval and not wanting anyone to think less of me. That’s how people pleasing and low self-esteem resurface in me.

That experience reminded me that knowing what to do in recovery does not remove my responsibility to take action. It gives me awareness, not immunity. Knowing better does not automatically mean doing better. That is why the steps separate readiness from action. Deciding is not the same as following through. I found myself wondering if I owed an amends and if so what that might look like. As I wrote about it, I realized this was not about apologizing or explaining myself. It was about changing me. So next time when I am in an uncomfortable situation, I will say no when I really feel no. That is the gift of recovery for me.

Prayer

God, help me recognize when pride creeps in and I am tempted to falter in my decisions. Guide me in truth. Grant me the courage and the strength to follow through. Amen.

Unsolicited Advice

Listening without fixing

My dear brothers and sisters, always be more willing to listen than to speak. Keep control of your anger. James 1:19

I am socially awkward. If you know me, you know this is true. I feel uncomfortable in social settings because I do not always know how to respond or interact in a healthy way. Before recovery, I never thought anything was wrong. I thought I was normal and healthy. The truth is, I did not know any better. I was operating on the best information I had at the time. When someone shared a struggle, a problem, or something they were dealing with, my first instinct was to fix it. I jumped straight to advice. I believed they were telling me for a reason. Growing up, when a problem showed up, I was expected to solve it. I had to come up with an answer. That way of relating was shaped by growing up in a family affected by alcoholism, and I carried it into adulthood without questioning it.

For a long time, I did not believe my advice was unsolicited. In my mind, they came to me knowing who I was and how I operated. They told me their problem, so surely they wanted my input. Why else would they share it? Recovery helped me see how distorted that thinking was. I never shared my own hurts, feelings, or emotions growing up because they were not safe. They were dismissed, mocked, or punished. I learned to protect myself by staying guarded and intellectual. Giving advice felt safer than being emotionally present. What I called helping was often my discomfort with emotions, both theirs and mine. That is another layer of the damage that alcoholism leaves behind.

Now I am learning to hold my peace and simply listen. That is not easy for me. I have to slow down and remind myself to stay present instead of jumping in with solutions. I am learning tools that help me sit with discomfort rather than escape it. The emotional part of me that I shut down to survive as a child is being brought back to life through working the steps of recovery. When I listen instead of fixing, something changes. I have more peace. My relationships are healthier. People do not pull away from me the way they used to. I am not trying to manage their feelings or my own anxiety through advice. I am learning how to be present. And that is the gift of recovery for me.

Reflection
Where do I try to fix instead of slowing down to listen?

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.

Small Town America

Doing what’s right, even when there is no crisis.

We must pay the most careful attention, therefore, to what we have heard, so that we do not drift away. Hebrews 2:1

I love small town America where I now live. Life moves at a slower pace, and I’m grateful for that. But along with calmer surroundings, there are also fewer recovery meetings. When I lived in a more urban area, a thirty- or forty-minute drive to a meeting didn’t seem unusual; it was part of life and you just got used to it. Now out in a rural area, that same thirty-minute drive through the desert feels more like a whole ordeal. Yet in reality, on the clock it’s the exact same amount of time. The only difference is my perspective has changed. That’s how recovery works too. It’s all about perspective.

When I start to think that going to a meeting is too far away or is inconvenient, I ask myself one question: How important is it? The answer usually brings everything back into focus. There may only be one meeting each week in this area, but it’s there and I can go. I’ve learned that I need meetings not just when I’m struggling, but when life feels stable and comfortable. Those are the times when complacency can creep in, and I can get squirrely real fast. I remember how desperate I was in the beginning. I didn’t care when or where the meeting was; I went because I needed help. The only thing that’s different is now I am not in crisis.

I was talking about this with my sponsor, and he mentioned that he attends online meetings several times a week. I knew there were online meetings, but quite honestly, I had forgotten about them. His reminder got me curious, so I attended one. I liked it and got a lot out of it, so I went to another. It has been such a blessing. There are online meetings happening around the clock. So even in a rural area like where I live, I can now find a meeting almost any time of day. And I do several each week. It reminded me that staying connected often starts with remembering what’s already available.

I remember what the old timers told me in the beginning. They said, “Don’t ever forget, you need to dance with the one that brought you.” I can easily drift off course if I stop doing the things that I did in the beginning that eased the pain and helped me start to get my mind straight. There will always be reasons why I may want to miss a meeting, work, family, being tired, or thinking I’m “all better now.” But when I keep doing what I know is right, I stay connected to God and to others. I am realizing that knowing the right thing to do isn’t enough if I stop doing it. Scripture warns how easy it is for me to drift off course when my attention fades, and recovery has proven that to be true for me more than once. How important is my recovery? My recovery, like my faith, depends on consistency, not convenience. When I remember that, my viewpoint shifts again, back into alignment, and peace returns.

Prayer:
Father, I am grateful that You keep opening my eyes to things I never saw before. I am glad that I do have meetings I can go to. Help me keep doing what I know is right, and give me the discipline to continue even when I don’t feel like it. Amen.