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.

It’s the Hard That Makes It Great

We can’t become tired of doing good. At the right time we will harvest a crop if we don’t give up, or quit. Galatians 6:9

I was watching the movie A League of Their Own. There is a scene that hit me hard. It’s when Dottie is ready to walk away and quit. She tells Jimmy, “It just got too hard.” The pressure, the sacrifice, and the pain finally were too much. Jimmy responds, “It is supposed to be hard. If it was easy, everyone would do it. It is the hard that makes it great.”

I was thinking how that line represents my life in recovery. Working the steps is not easy. Facing the past is painful. Surrendering control feels scary. Admitting my weakness and making amends are humbling. If my own past efforts would have worked, I would not have stayed stuck in addiction for so long. The principles of recovery ask me to face the very things I spent years avoiding, and that is exactly why it’s so hard.

I’m learning recovery is about surrender and honesty. To admit I’m powerless, to face the truth about my life, make amends, and turn my will and life over to God daily. This work is not just about being clean only, it’s about transformation. None of that comes naturally to me. It requires humility. It requires trusting God in places where I used to rely on myself, often through control, pride, or escape. When I feel weak, I am reminded that I am not doing this in my own strength. God meets me in the hard places and gives me what I need for today.

When step work feels exhausting or too hard and I think of quitting, I call my sponsor. Like that coach in the movie, he encourages me that this work doesn’t just feel or seem hard, it indeed is hard. If this was easy work everyone would do it. If I keep on going and do not quit when things get hard, I will experience the promises of recovery in my life. Peace, freedom, happiness, contentment, and connection all start to show up, and that is what makes recovery great.

Prayer
God, let me feel Your strength when things get hard. Help me to keep on going. I don’t always feel strong or hopeful, but I don’t want to give up. Help me keep doing the work even when I don’t feel like it. Give me courage to keep going. 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.

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.