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.

Quickly Dismissed – How Denial Convinced Me I Didn’t Have a Problem

What I avoided for years became the place where healing began.

Admit your faults to one another and pray for one another so that you may be healed. James 5:16

Before I ever entered recovery, and long before I knew it would become part of my life, God was already planting seeds through people who cared about me. Over the years, I had good friends, people I trusted, suggest that I consider attending a meeting. A few even offered to go with me. I heard what they were saying, but I quickly dismissed it. I didn’t need recovery. Recovery was for “those” people, for addicts and people who didn’t have it together. That wasn’t me. I believed in God. I read my Bible. I prayed. I was the one who helped others. What I could not see at the time was that in all my trying to be responsible and helpful, I was seldom at rest. I was hypervigilant, trying to do everything exactly right, hoping I would earn God’s favor.

It was hard for me to see it, but I finally realized I was addicted. I wasn’t addicted to substances. I was addicted to fixing and controlling others. I told myself that I valued truth. In reality, I only valued my version of truth. I was afraid of the version that was offered to me. When people who loved me spoke honestly about what they saw, I argued, minimized, or explained it away. I was often perplexed though, at how they seemed to know so much about my childhood, even when I had never spoken about it to anyone. I couldn’t explain it at the time, but their truth felt threatening because it wasn’t my truth. Accepting their truth meant I needed help. It meant I would have to let go of control. I would have to be vulnerable, and that meant I could be hurt again. No way was I going to let that happen. I was afraid of what might happen to me if I opened up to someone about my past. That kind of honesty didn’t feel right to me. And it definitely didn’t feel safe. I had no one I could really trust, not even those who cared about me.

I finally did something about it. The thing I had always avoided. I showed up. I found a place where I could share things out loud, and nothing bad happened. I was accepted. Once I began to see that I had a problem and that I needed help, things started to fall into place. My awareness didn’t happen all at once, and it wasn’t always easy or pretty. Sometimes it still isn’t. But it came through honesty and trust. The people in the rooms of recovery trusted me with their stories, which made it easier to trust them with mine. They weren’t asking anything from me that they weren’t willing to do themselves. That made it possible for me to open up, be honest, and trust someone else for the first time since I could remember. And that was liberating. It was freeing. It was accepting. And it still is today.

Prayer

Father, thank You for never giving up on me. Thank You for leading me to safe places where I can see Your love, acceptance, and forgiveness demonstrated in action. Help me stay willing to show up, speak up, and grow up. I thank You for the healing You provide as I stop hiding from my past and continue to be honest. 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?

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?

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?

Restoring My Brain

I’m learning how God is using recovery to restore my brain from addictive behaviors I could not control.

You will keep the mind that is dependent on You in perfect peace, for it is trusting in You. Isaiah 26:3

I’ve been reading about how addiction connects to what’s going on in the brain, and it really opened my eyes. The more I learned, the more I could see my own patterns and why I tend to fall back into certain behaviors I don’t want. One thing that really stood out to me is that God designed our brains with chemicals that help us engage and live life fully through connection with Him and others. Dopamine is one of those chemicals. It gives us the drive to go after things like food, relationships, purpose, and growth. Oxytocin is another. It helps us feel calm, safe, and connected. When our minds and bodies are aligned, working the way God intended, dopamine helps us take the next right step, and oxytocin lets us know when we’re safe enough to slow down and rest. Together they keep us steady, so we don’t go from one extreme to the other. We live in a place where we can want things without feeling overwhelmed and make decisions without fear.

Addiction starts when these chemicals get out of sync and become imbalanced. Dopamine stops looking for relief from feeling safe and being close to people. Instead of gently guiding me, it suddenly feels like an urgent pressure demanding relief right now. That urgency is why things start to slip. My brain begins to believe that the only way to have peace comes from instant gratification instead of patience and trust in God. Over time, my brain forgets how to rest and how to wait. It gets used to the shortcut and starts to expect it, and before I know it, it starts demanding immediate relief. And that’s why I start looking for a fix to meet that demand.

What surprised me was realizing that this same chemical imbalance occurs in my brain and is created through my codependent behaviors. It is not just something caused by drugs and alcohol. I feel it when I start trying to manage everyone and everything, fixing problems, smoothing things over, or trying to keep everyone happy. I get uncomfortable and feel uneasy. I suddenly have the urge to jump into fix-it mode because it feels like the fastest way to get relief. That relief simulates a feeling of peace, but it is short lived and never lasts. The urge to manage comes back again and again. Each time a bit stronger. I started to see that what I thought was love and concern is often my brain chasing a quick dopamine release through control. The pattern is always the same. Urgency first, relief second, exhaustion later. It dawned on me that this rush for an instant relief, an urgent dopamine release in my brain, is nothing more than a counterfeit for spirituality and peace with God. God designed dopamine to be released naturally and evenly.

It shows up as that feeling that something has to be dealt with right now, even when nothing is actually happening. It often sounds like “I just need to fix this” or “Once this is handled, I’ll feel better.” I notice it in my body as restlessness, tightness, or the inability to sit still when things feel uncertain. The relief feels real, but it fades quickly, and the urgency always comes back. It feels less like desire and more like pressure, as if peace depends on acting immediately.

I now recognize why God desires me to embrace spiritual disciplines in my life. It is not to be strict or demanding. It is because of His love for me. When He calls me to be patient, to seek Him through prayer and meditation, to exercise and eat healthy, and to stay connected with others, He wants what is best for me. These practices release an even, balanced, and healthy amount of dopamine and oxytocin in my brain. They help keep me emotionally regulated so I am not driven by urgency or addiction.

Prayer breaks the cycle of urgency and helps me slow down. Waiting teaches my body that stress and pressure won’t destroy me. Being honest with people instead of trying to manage how they react opens the door to real personal connection. Setting boundaries feels uncomfortable at first, but over time they bring real peace one bit at a time. Each time I choose trust over control, my brain learns something new. I am learning that I do not have to perform to feel safe. I do not have to fix everything. I am not walking alone. Over time, what once felt impossible becomes normal. That is discipline. That is healing. That is the balance God intended. That is freedom and true serenity.

Reflection
Where do I notice urgency showing up in my thoughts or body right now, and what might it look like to pause and trust God instead of reacting?

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.

Scraping Ice

Sometimes clarity starts with doing the things I don’t want to do.

We can’t allow ourselves to get tired of living the right way. Galatians 6:9

One of my “favorite“ things to do in the winter is scraping the ice off the windshield of my car every morning. I say that tongue in cheek because it is one of my least favorite things. I stand there in the cold, hands hurting, clothes getting wet and wishing the ice would magically just disappear. I am a hot weather person and I would take a hot sunny day over a cold day every single day and twice on Sunday. If I was to say I hate cold weather I don’t think that would be too strong a word. As I was begrudgingly clearing my windows of this loathsome task, I started thinking about other things in my life that I don’t like to do, but I do them anyway. It is frustrating, inconvenient, and uncomfortable… but the payoff is greater than the pain. In this case the windshield clears. My day moves forward. The discomfort has a purpose and eventually passes.

I started thinking about how recovery has been the same way. There were things I didn’t want to face, and for years I avoided them. I pretended they weren’t there, hoping they would melt on their own. My sponsor once told me that in order to recover I needed “face everything and recover.” That was his acronym for fear, and apparently I had a lot of it and didn’t see it in myself. I didn’t like it, but I needed it. I have learned that the only way out is through. I couldn’t run, hide, ignore, or avoid anymore. I had to face the decisions, the conversations, the truths, the parts of myself I didn’t want to see. Moment by moment and a little bit at a time.

Today I’m grateful because, by working the steps, I can now confront those things that I avoided and ran from before. I am learning how to face the challenges in front of me one by one. I try to focus on doing what’s right for today, and trust that God will handle the outcomes. This allows me to take in grace with each breath and let out fear with each exhale. And little by little, I am seeing things more clearly.

Prayer: Father, thank You for helping me face the things I would rather avoid. Give me the strength to keep doing what is right even when it feels uncomfortable. Help me trust that each step forward matters and that You are clearing my view as I keep moving. 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.

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.

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.

Being Present Without Guilt

Learning to enjoy where my feet are.

Recovery has taught me that I don’t have to justify every moment or fix myself before I can enjoy what’s right in front of me. Sometimes the simplest thing is just being present.

I know that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to do good while they live.
Ecclesiastes 3:12

We have a few simple traditions during the Christmas season. One of them is driving around town and looking at the Christmas lights and decorations on the houses. There are a few neighborhoods that really go all out. They have lots and lots of lights. Some are synchronized to music, with cutouts and blow ups of all the characters. Some nights Santa is out there handing out candy canes. It’s a lot of fun. We make hot cocoa and pour it into our cups, and sometimes, if we have a few extra dollars, we stop by a local place and pick one up. We play Christmas music on the radio and sing along. We have a really good time as a family. No electronic devices. No distractions. No competing voices. Just us hanging out together doing one simple thing, and it is beautiful. It is absolutely one of my favorite parts of the holiday season. True confession, we do it several times and always one last time on Christmas Eve.

For a long time, I was not able to enjoy simple moments like that. In recovery, it is easy for me to stay focused on my faults, my shortcomings, and my character defects. I have a tendency to live in fourth step mode, always taking inventory, always looking for what needs to be fixed. One of the blessings of completing my inventory and continuing through the rest of the steps was learning to see the good things in life and the good things about me. That was not easy. It took my sponsor prompting me to even try. But somewhere along the way, as I stopped defining myself only by what was broken, I was able to see some good things about myself. This in turn also made it possible to see the good in others and in simple moments without guilt getting in the way. I also stopped feeling like these simple things were unimportant. They didn’t have to have a purpose, and they didn’t have to be earned. I could just be there.

Before recovery, guilt and the feeling of never being enough followed me everywhere, even into special moments with my family. Those feelings leaked out of me and I quietly spoiled what should have been joyful times. Today, I am able to enjoy the little things without overthinking them. I can think about our simple traditions and feel grateful instead of distracted by what I think is wrong with me or what I should be doing instead. I am not trying to fix myself or prove anything in those moments. I am just there with my family, present for what is happening, and that is something I never want to take for granted. It really is that simple. Being present without an agenda or a purpose feels liberating to me. It makes me feel whole, like I have finally grown up.

Prayer
Father, thank You for teaching me how to be present in the moment. Thank You for showing me that I can enjoy simple things without an agenda, just because. Help me continue to live in the moment and appreciate the ordinary. Teach me to show up fully, with an open heart, and to enjoy the good You place in front of me today. 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.