Mr. SponsorPants

it's called "making amends"

 

 

It's true.

 

 

Shooters -- Quick shots from meetings: Healing entitlement and resentment around money

 

"... I started writing 'thank you' on all of the checks I wrote.  All the checks I was writing to make amends.  And then all the checks I wrote to pay my bills.  'Thank you for the terms to pay this off' or 'Thank you for providing me with electricity or ... I don't know, just... thank you.  'Thank you for extending me credit.'  Eventually -- not right away, but over time -- it really helped me see that the way I thought about my amends, or what I owed, or what I was paying for, was upside down in some subtle ways.  I was still struggling with feelings of entitlement and privilege and, well, plain old resentment. But writing 'thank you' ... it's so funny, how it all comes back to gratitude, and how that changes everything, isn't it."

 

Questions via Email: Amends - Will telling someone I gossiped about them cause more harm?

 

Mr. Sponsor pants,

So I have a tendency to vent when things get frustrating at work and then feel as though I have gossiped and talked behind the person's back.  Do I owe them an amends for that?  Would bringing that up not bring more harm?

Thanks,

B

Dear B,

First, let's get everybody up to speed.  For the new kids, here is the Step which deals with amends:

Step 9. Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.

Huh, ok. Pretty straightforward.  But which "such people"?  To get clear on that, we have to look at Step 8:

Step 8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.

Okay, so you're right on the money with your question and what the Steps suggest, B.  You are wondering if you've caused harm, you're willing to make the amends if you have, but you're wary of causing more harm if you talk about what you've done.

Well certainly if you go up to Suzy Creamcheese and tell her that because she's always late with the Widgets Report you get frustrated, and then talk about it with Penelope down in Supplies and Acquisitions, you will cause harm to yourself.  Since Suzy, even if she is gracious about it, will not look at you the same way, and the next time there's a deadline for a report on Widgits there will be a bit of a charge in the air, that's for sure.

Unfortunately, harm to ourselves is not a criteria we use to determine whether direct ammends are warranted.  (And I wouldn't be the first alcoholic in recovery to sigh and murmur, "would that it were.")  But of course it is the pain (embarrassment) we sometimes feel when making the direct amends which helps us to change our behavior in the future.

(And it is with chagrin I report that sometimes I have not done something because I have looked at the person I would have to make direct amends to and thought, "Oh, HELL no.  I am not willing to make direct amends to that ... Great Spiritual Teacher of mine."  Which is of course the punch line, since then they really are great spiritual teachers for me.)

But I want to say here that I agree with your concern.  Even though it will make you look bad, it will potentially harm Ms. Creamcheese, since your admission will make the workplace less safe.  And if you do determine that your amends includes talking to Suzy, then you need to leave Penelope out of it.  The amends to Suzy would begin with "I'm sorry, but I have been gossiping about you." not "I'm sorry, but I have been gossiping about you with Penelope." 

And an amends is hardly just a confession of sorts.  Nor is it just an apology.  It is a sincere attempt to make things right.  To balance the scales.  (Which sadly, does not mean you get to dish the dirt on Penelope and her most recent peccadillo with Mortimer over in Accounts Payable to Suze.  That's not the kind of balancing the scales AA suggests.)

Whether you speak to the person you gossiped about or not, the real focus of this amends is about committing not to gossip anymore.  We right a wrong and we change our behavior (hello Steps 6, 7 & 10).

There is an inherent free pass alcoholics love to give ourselves (all people do it, but we're Master Class at it) -- the logic goes like this:  When I get frustrated, then I gossip.  When I get scared, then I lie.  When I feel neglected then I cheat.  It's like we go from explanation of why something happens to pre-approval that, under certain conditions it's going to happen.  (And is it crazy to suggest that then, at some level we create the condition which permits this behavior because we get something else out of doing it?  No, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, no, I say it is not at all crazy to suggest that! >bangs hand upon the table<  Sorry, I've been talking to a young woman at work about her reading assignment, "To Kill A Mocking Bird" and now we're all talking like lawyers in old movies as we work, so apparently its seeping into my writing.  Just be glad you can't see me.  The other day I declared it was Modern Dance Day at work, and everyone had to find a way to either point their toes or use jazz hands while they were helping Guests.  Such is the way I fight drudgery and counteract mean customers and cutbacks in staffing levels.  But as usual, I digress.)

I suspect that the amount of harm you may already have caused is dependant on the kind of gossip you indulged in.  If you were just being a bitchy little weasel, dissing Ms. Creamcheese for her general lack of getting things to you on time (or whatever) then maybe not.  But if what you were saying or whom you were saying it to could have a real, substantive impact on someone's future at work then that is something more serious, and you should give careful consideration to how to make that right.

It's hard to give you one clear suggestion without details to weigh potential harm against the context of what was said and to whom, and greater harm(s) which could follow; but you are right, I think some harm -- mental and emotional harm -- will come to the person you gossiped about if you tell them what you did (regularly do?).

The other thing about gossip in general -- and it's the thing people who gossip chronically never seem to realize -- is that you make the world (or work, or the AA meeting, or whatever) more hostile and less safe for yourself when you gossip, since when you feel vulnerable or are afraid or have to take a risk when saying something in a group it's all too easy to focus on the idea that people will talk -- and not in a nice way.  It's real for you because you live in it.  People who don't gossip are generally far less concerned about the idea that people might. 

I guess the lesser known AA adage, "when in doubt, do nothing" might be the best course for the moment -- so long as that's not an excuse -- and only you can answer that by looking inside.

Regardless, in my experience it is these small, petty, mean-spirited behaviors which I can indulge in that thwart my ongoing spiritual growth -- and that's nothing to be dismissive about since the Big Book suggests -- and I believe -- that people drink because they fail to enlarge their spiritual lives -- and this is exactly the kind of behavior which works against that healthy growth.  I suspect just from your brief email and your understanding of the Steps that you are in general a better person than this, that you have some genuine remorse and some real concern about this behavior.  That's good.  Armed with those things, willingness and some spiritual assistance you can absolutely make the right decision about this particular amends and also work to make a significant change in how you deal with the need to vent.

When the impulse to gossip comes up in me I try to remember the Eleanor Roosevelt quote:

Stings a little, doesn't it.

That's good.  It should.

Pain is the touchstone of our spiritual growth.

Get busy.

Love,

Mr. SponsorPants

 

... I did find myself wanting to shout at the screen for a minute.

 

 

A character on a television show I just watched (thanks, internet!) had gotten sober and gone to AA "offscreen."  (He is a very minor character on the show.) 

The running gag in this episode was his attempt to "do his Step 9" with people at work.  He would apologize with grave sincerity for ridiculously trivial things, or tell people things they didn't need to or want to hear, the apology apparently constituting the sum total of his Step 9: "I need to say I'm sorry for my recovery." (Though to be fair, later in the episode, he briefly mentioned accepting the consequences of his actions).

I will be the very first to admit I am likely a little sensitive to how AA and the 12 Steps are generally portrayed in modern film and television.  Over the course of this show's run 12 Step things have snuck in around the edges, so a producer or head writer or some such is probably in one 12 Step Program or another.

But I did find myself wanting to shout at the screen for a minute.

"It's not about apologizing!  It's about making things right!  It's about restitution!  It's not about forcing your amends process onto anyone who doesn't want it!"

As I said, it was a minor character, and so I understand they had limited time in any given scene to explain what he was doing on the way to setting up a punchline.

And I can even believe that it was a well intentioned inclusion in the story... but dear god that makes me nuts sometimes.  I would wager that, right after the whole "it's a religious program" thing, believing that Step 9 is just about saying "I'm sorry" is the most common misconception regarding all things 12 Step.

It's not just about saying "I'm sorry" -- though certainly that's often one appropriate thing to be done.  It's about righting the wrong, balancing the ledger, owning the damage we did in whatever form and making whatever restitution we can.

And it's not so we can be "good" people -- that's just sort of an accidental, occasional result.  It's so we are relieved of the things like guilt or arrogance or shame or denial which, left inside us, fester and poison us.

An apology can offer relief from a guilty conscience, that's certainly true; but an amends offers freedom from sickness, and heals a tormented spirit.

 

Questions via Email: The amends "script"

Dear Mr. SponsorPants,

Maybe you'll know the origins of this AA suggestion?  I'm referring to the general 'scripting' for making an amends.  I was taught that in making an amends I should ask "what can do to make this right?"  I've looked and not really seen that in the Big Book or the 12 and 12.  Am I not seeing it or what?  Is this how you do it?

Thanks!

J

Dear J.

Thanks for not just this question, but all the wonderful emails you've sent me.

Here's what I was taught to say and how I was told to conduct myself when making an amends:

If appropriate, explain how the amends is related to my staying sober.  The book "Alcoholics Anonymous" -- AA's Big Book -- cautions against emphasizing this element of the amends process, or bringing the "spiritual aspect" into it too soon -- or at all.  Wisely it points out (to paraphrase), that someone we ripped off or abused is going to have little patience with us if we play at being a Blues Brother and declare, "I'm on a mission from God."  An amends, in and of itself, does not require an admission of being in AA -- though certainly sometimes -- even often -- in some form or another it's the right thing to do.

Next I apologize for what I did, that is, I own my part, "my side of the street."  (Much time is given in the AA literature to determining if you should make amends to someone at all, and while it is a worthwhile discussion it is also a lengthy one, so to keep to the spirit of your question here I will only quote the 9th Step in part and say "Made direct amends ... except when to do so would injure them or others" is the bottom line we always work from.)

I then offer whatever restitution might be appropriate or that I am capable of.  (In the Big Book the example used is a man behind on his alimony sending a payment with a letter of apology, rather than just a letter.)

Then I ask if there's anything else I can do to make it right, and (here's the hard part), I shut up and let the other person have their day in court.  This can be difficult and scary, but I have found it's the most powerful element, as it takes real humility and willingness to make such an offer, even when we're nervous or reluctant to do so.  It's the actions that count.  And it makes certain that if my recollection of what I did is incomplete I will have fully cleaned my side of the street by allowing the person I wronged to add whatever they might recall that I (accidentally! I swear!) forgot.

And at this juncture immediately of course the "what if's" start.  "What if they say to make it right I have to [insert ridiculous, impossible or inappropriate thing here]?"  Each case is different, but I have almost never heard of someone facing the ridiculous or impossible this way.  The 9th Step is also where the literature describes that we aren't "servile or scraping" and "as God's people we bow before no one."  If that were to happen I believe you would recognize it as such -- we know in our hearts when, however difficult, what someone says is an appropriate request to make something right, versus someone taking advantage of our offer.  If you're truly afraid you'll be confused or bamboozled, then bring someone with you -- your sponsor even.  Nothing says we have to walk through this (or anything in our sobriety) alone.  But such a situation is, again, rare, and unlikely for most amends.  You can "what if" yourself into a panic -- that's why it's a great idea to consult with either your sponsor or any other AA's you feel might offer good experience on this before even contacting the person you are going to make amends to.  No doubt just because I haven't heard of it happening doesn't mean it's never happened, but in general I have found that the people we screwed over, while maybe never numbered among our greatest fans, are more about restitution than revenge.

So now that we've got that all outlined, I can address the heart of your question, and that is, no, I don't know of anyplace in the literature that the "what can I do to make it right" is specifically stated.  For me that suggestion comes from the general, collected wisdom of the fellowship of AA -- the distillation of people's sober experience, passed along via shares and sponsors through the years; a channel of helpful information I value as much as I do anything we have in print.

I hasten to add, even if the 9th Step process, with a "what can I do to make it right?" was very specifically scripted someplace in the literature, I am certain it would be balanced by reason.  People can be dogmatic and rigid.  AA literature is not.  All of the suggestions AA makes in writing are mitigated with things like, "the wording was, of course, quite optional, so long as we expressed the idea" (from the 3rd Step in the Big Book) or "... there is no pat answer which can fit all such dilemmas." (from Step 9 in the 12&12).  So even if it were specifically scripted in such a fashion, the spirit of AA literature, no matter what the topic, always leaves room for common sense and for differences in what is right for each situation.

Two things I always remember when it comes to amends:

1. "A remorseful mumbling that we are sorry won't fill the bill at all."  (Big Book, pg. 83, in the discussion about Step 9.)  Prior to AA my life was a long, pathetic litany of "sorry sorry sorry."  An amends is much bigger than an apology.  It is about restitution.  It's about making things right.  It's about changing our behavior so that we don't repeat the offenses we're cleaning up.

2.  You don't have to make any amends you're not willing to make.  Of course, if you're not willing, then you're not on Step 9 anyway.

You're on Step 8.

Hope that helped.

Cheers!

My 3rd Least Favorite Paragraph in The Big Book

For a book I credit with laying out a road map which transformed my life, there are a few paragraphs that, for whatever reason, drive me nuts.

I've already written about my Least Favorite Paragraph, and about my 2nd Least Favorite Paragraph ... so now it's time for my 3rd:

"The alcoholic is like a tornado roaring his way through the lives of others.  Hearts are broken.  Sweet relationships are dead.   Affections have been uprooted.  Selfish and inconsiderate habits have kept the home in turmoil.  We feel a man is unthinking when he says that sobriety is enough.  He is like the farmer who came up out of his cyclone cellar to find his home ruined.  To his wife, he remarked, "Don't see anything the matter here, Ma.  Ain't it grand the wind stopped blowin'?"  --  "Alcoholics Anonymous" (AA's Big Book) Chapter 6, 'Into Action,' pg. 82

Oh, if only they hadn't said the word "Ma" in talking to his wife.  That, followed so closely by "ain't," is just ... most modern readers get lost in either eye rolling or giggles.

I'm not being critical of the Big Book for using language which was commonplace in their region and their time.  That's like judging Shakespeare for not having Hamlet say "Should I chill, or should I just kill myself?  That's what I'm obsessing over." instead of "To be, or not to be.  That is the question."  Language changes.  And there are many places where I find the way the Big Book puts something to be not just illustrative, but moving.

For example, I will always love:

"It is plain that a life which includes deep resentment leads only to futility and unhappiness.  To the precise extent that we permit these, do we squander the hours that might have been worth while."  --  Big Book, Ch. 5, 'How it Works' pg. 66

How evocative, how apt, how brilliant is both the point and the way it's made.  Truly, "squander" in this context gives one pause to think back on all the times when we could have been enjoying life, but instead were lost in our heads, gnashing our teeth and rehashing old fights, or worse, making speeches during imaginary new ones.  (A personal favorite of mine.  I always know I'm not on the beam when I am in the middle of a huge fight -- that never happened.)

There's nothing "wrong" with the way The Big Book is written, but the point in my 3rd least favorite paragraph on pg. 82 is so important, so critical, and the storm analogy is so perfect (not like in my least favorite paragraph, where the analogy really hijacks the point they're trying to make), that it's a damn shame the antiquated phrases in use here have the double whammy of being particularly old/hokey.

Take the corn-pone dialog away for a moment and (maybe when they were writing this they'd just come back from seeing "The Wizard of Oz" and had Uncle Henry and Auntie Em in their heads -- if I'm not mistaken, the timing lines up on that.  But I've already done a Wizard of Oz rant) what this paragraph is really talking about is amends -- and in my humble opinion is the jumping off point for the idea of Living Amends.

"We feel a man is unthinking when he says that sobriety is enough."

Ya think?

I believe that what the Big Book is expressing here is that just getting sober, just not drinking, does not even come close to balancing the scales for all the horrible toxic behavior we pulled when we drank.  The people close to us may be so relieved that we've finally stopped getting worse that we may get a bit of a pass from them on things past -- but if we do, we can't take it.  We have to make the rest of it right -- not just because it's the right thing to do -- and it is -- but because if we don't we'll drink again.

(Some alcoholics will use newfound sobriety as a way to subtly blackmail people into not holding them accountable, since if we get too upset we might drink again -- which is bullshit, in this context.  Kind of like the resentment fueled con:  "I'll show you!  I'll hurt me!  Then you'll be sorry!" Using someone's love for us as a way to punish them is one of the oldest alcoholic tricks.  We're not bad people getting good, we're sick people getting well... but that's a very fine distinction, on occasion.)

Just because the storm of our active alcoholism has passed -- just because those winds have stopped blowing (and there's a full-of-hot-air joke in there somewhere) -- that's only the start of making things right.  In no way is it enough on its own.

To me, that's what the paragraph is suggesting, "aint's" and "Ma's" and all.

You would think I'd learn...

One AA meeting I go to during the week starts about half an hour later than the usual kick-off, and because of that, those thirty minutes are a friendly, warm, fellowshipful kind of time, where people drift in the door, get some coffee, and socialize.  We refer to it loosely as the meeting-before-the-meeting.  I think sometimes more people get more help during that half hour than during the meeting proper.

Just recently I wandered in extra early, and consequently there were only a few people in the room.  One of them is a gentleman I had occasion to make amends to a few months ago.

You would think I'd learn...

I walk up and stand next to him, facing the same direction, putting us shoulder to shoulder.  We're looking out over the room together, sort of generally watching people drift in the door.

ME:  Hey there.

HIM:  Hey.

ME:  How's it going?  How are you doing tonight?

HIM: Good. Good thanks. I'm good.

We stand there, next to each other. He says nothing further. We watch the door.  The silence plays out ...

...

...

...

After a too long minute or two, I lean in and lower my voice, conspiratorially.

ME:  I'm good too.

He seems startled, then a small smile, slightly sheepish.

HIM:  Oh! Oh, right, of course. Heh.  Right.  Right.  Good.

What can I say?  My side of the street is clean.

 

 

I tried walking my talk, but I'm afraid I wound up limping it instead.

Me:  Hey, thank you for meeting me for coffee.

Him:  Sure, sure.

Awkward minute of silence

Me:  So ... I believe I owe you an amends.

I wait a moment, half expecting some sort of response.  All I get is more silence.  I think to myself, "Well, maybe he's not going to make this any harder than it has to be, but obviously he's not going to make it any easier, either."

Me:  When you and I ran into each a couple of weeks ago, you know, I think ... you made a very neutral, even helpful statement, and I just kind of bit your head off.  I'm sorry, that's ... that's not cool, I don't like to be that way.  So I apologize.  I want to make amends.  If there's anything I can do to make that up to you ...

Him (sharply):  That's what this is about?  That's why you called me and asked me to meet you?

Me (taken aback):  Well ... yes.  I wanted to make a face-to-face...

Him:  You don't think you could have just said this on the phone?

Me:  I ... no.  I mean, yes, I guess.  But I just always think in terms of making amends, you know, face-to-face whenever ...

Him:  You know, you're supposed to wear the program like a loose blanket.  You don't have to be such a...

Me:  Oh please.  Who the hell came up with that loose blanket thing, anyway?  I think people just say that when they want to make excuses for not doing the deal.

He looks at me sharply but I'm on a roll.  Righteous indignation and guilt and grief and more resentment against this guy in a messy tangle in my gut.

Me:  You know what else is a loose blanket?  A fucking shroud.  Did you hear about ...

I name someone in AA who just died -- possibly OD'd -- earlier this week.

Him:  Yeah.  I did. 

The cafe is by a fairly busy street.  We're at a table on the sidewalk, and a truck roars by, silencing us both for a minute, like God ringing the bell signaling an end to Round 1 and sending us back to our neutral corners.

Him:  You sponsored him for a while, didn't you.

Me:  Yeah.  Yeah, I did.  At the beginning.  For a while.  Like, 3 years, actually.

Silence.  We drink our coffee for another minute or two.

Me:  What were you going to say?  I don't have to be such a what?

Him:  Nothing. Skip it.

Me (getting a little louder):  No. What? Say it.  Say what you were going to say.

Him (matching my escalating volume):  No. Never mind.  Skip it.  Look. Fine, fine. Apology accepted.

I open my mouth to say something, and close it.  He looks at me, looks away, takes a deep breath and stares into space.  We drink our coffee for a couple of minutes.  Someone we know from meetings walks by, waves.  We wave back and smile as if we've been having a lovely chat. 

Me:  Great. Well.  This has been fun.

Him:  Right. Yeah.

Me: Let's do this again next time I snap at you.

Him: No, that's ok.  Just call me and ... whatever.  Leave a message or something.

Me:  Right.  Yeah. Whatever.

He stands up, puts his cell phone in his pocket, picks up his keys and his coffee.  Hesitates for a moment.  Sticks out his hand.  I half stand up and shake it.  He walks away.

I think to myself, "I swear to God, if I could do this stuff any better, I would."  Then I sit there a bit longer, and laugh a little, because I realize if that's true for me then it has to be true for him, too.

I finish my coffee and leave, feeling, with that thought, somehow a little better about the whole thing.