Mr. SponsorPants

"As the day goes on..." Life saving (literally) practical advice from the Step Eleven

 

 

As the day goes on, we can pause where situations must be met and decisions made, and renew the simple request: "Thy will, not mine, be done."  If at these points our emotional disturbance happens to be great, we will more surely keep our balance, provided we remember, and repeat to ourselves, a particular prayer or phrase that has appealed to us in our reading or meditation.  Just saying it over and over will often enable us to clear a channel choked up with anger, fear, frustration, or misunderstanding, and permit us to return to the surest help of all -- our search for God's will, not our own, in the moment of stress.  At these critical moments, if we remind ourselves that "it is better to comfort than to be comforted, to understand than to be understood, to love than to be loved," we will be following the intent of Step Eleven.

 

-- "Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions"  (AA's 12 & 12) pg. 103

 

to keep people from seeing

Just

because

you

know

a lot

about

sex

doesn't

mean

you know

anything

about

intimacy.

 

In fact, for me, one of the things I learned in the sexual inventory of my 4th Step was how I used sex to avoid intimacy -- in other words, to keep people from seeing Me.

And to keep me from seeing Me, too.

In my experience, when it comes to how alcoholism takes good, healthy things and twists them to its own service in a never-ending drive to isolate the alcoholic, physical intimacy is not about closeness or truth -- or even fun, really.  It's about walls or masks.

 

 

One of the nicest things about the 10th Step

 

 

One of the nicest things about the 10th Step for me (Step 10: Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it) is that after I learned how to promptly admit when I am, I learned how to not admit when in fact I'm not.

In other words, I used to admit I was wrong to diffuse a situation, or to avoid confrontation, or to placate, or in a passive-aggressive feint to try and manipulate the other person into admitting they're wrong. (twisted!)

But once I began admitting when I was really wrong, the not-reallly-wrong's admission didn't fit me anymore.  Various stressers would occur and the coping mechanism would kick in and I would have the impulse to admit/apologize, but a little voice (that infamous, ubiquitous little voice) would sort of pipe up and go, "Hey! Waitaminute!"

There were -- there are -- plenty of times when I was/still am wrong.

Yet I find that after practicing these principles in all my affairs to the best of my ability, there are now a good number of occasions when I'm not.  At one time it was the easiest thing in the world to take blame and apologize for things I didn't do -- but the funny thing is, after you experience how clean it feels to admit when you're truly in the wrong it actually feels dirty to admit you're wrong when it looks like you're not.

Thanks to inventory work I'm healthier than that today.

(Well, most days.)

We say "work the Steps" and it can sound daunting -- but the experience of many, many people in recovery is that if you stay the course it is worth it in ways you can't see from wherever you're currently standing.

 

Cheers!

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: Part 2 - The Steps seem strange to a logical thinker

 

From J's question yesterday:

"These Steps seem so strange to a logical thinker like myself.  Can you share anything that might help me?"

 

Well J, there's much discussion in Chapter 4 of the Big Book titled "We Agnostics" about logic and faith, but let's address instead the very specific problem you describe:  A rational reluctance to the 12 Steps.

Frankly my friend I suspect, for whatever reason, you're probably over thinking it.

I have found that considering the first 3 Steps with slightly different wording can help people experience them with fewer filters.  I am NOT trying to reinvent the 12 Steps (for me they are perfect as is).  This is simply how I first found a way to embrace Steps 1, 2 and 3:

 There's something wrong with my drinking and it's fucking up my life, and although I keep telling myself I'm going to get it together I just keep... not getting it together. 

And things keep getting worse.

It's actually crazy that on the one hand I want so very badly to get it together and then on the other hand I just... don't care.  Or I just change my mind.  Or I forget. 

But I believe there's something in AA that can help me.

So I'm going to do what AA suggests -- all of it.

 

That's it, basically.  I admit I have a problem I can't solve on my own. It's getting worse.  I think AA can help, so I'll do the AA deal.  Steps 1, 2 and 3.

Actually, if you want to deconstruct the Steps from a logic standpoint -- and the Big Book too, for that matter -- that's pretty much the rhythm of the whole thing:  Problem.  Solution.  Plan of Action.  Lather, rinse, repeat.

(And as far as the above is concerned, I could define "wrong" pretty clinically, but I think if you're really a problem drinker you get how right the word "wrong" is. )

As for the rest of the 12 Steps, I'm going to suggest to you, J, something that I heard in maybe my first week of sobriety, and it served me well:

Balk at the Step you're on.

Don't get your kippers in a clip about all the rest.  If you have had a problem getting and staying sober, then in my humble opinion you are best served by focusing on the first three steps, and the timing for the others will fall into place pretty gracefully after that.

As I said before, I can tell from your email you have a great attitude and you're willing -- keep those fires stoked, keep an open mind, and keep coming back.

 

Mr. SponsorPants

If I stay resentful at someone then I've defined them

 

 Is it possible that sometimes we cling to a resentment so we can keep someone neatly labeled, rather than consider them from another point of view?

If I stay resentful at someone then I've defined them -- as the villain or the perpetrator or the bully or the thief or whatever -- and I can avoid the hard work of having an open mind, of considering what their illness or issue might have been (or might still be).

And then I can subtly minimize my part in the equation, postpone or avoid taking the full responsibility for my proverbial side of the street when I have one (as I so often, often do).  In my heart I can slow the inventory-driven recovery process down, quietly whispering in my head "yes but they blah blah blah" every time I consider my part in something.

 

It's much less work to stay closed off in anger rather than open myself to seeing those who wronged me as fellow sufferers, or even, with Divine help, see them through eyes of love.

That's why I try to remember that the first thing the Big Book suggests I do in writing an inventory (the dreaded 4th Step) is not to pick up the pen and make a list of the people, institutions, etc. I resent -- no, the first thing I'm instructed to do is try to view those who I believe have wronged me as spiritually sick themselves.

Letting go of resentment is not just about taking responsibility for our part in things -- though that is essential -- it is about compassion, too.

and that is a role, in fact, I feel it is a privilege to have

ring

ring

ring

ME:  Hello?

SPONSEE:  hi.

ME:  Well that sounds a bit subdued.  What's up?

SPONSEE:  I'm kind of freaking out about tomorrow.

"Tomorrow" was when they were going to do their 5th Step with me -- for the new kids, this means that they had written an inventory of their resentments, sex conduct and fears, and that inventory was their 4th Step.  Reading the inventory to another person is the 5th Step.  They had done one 4th and 5th Step before, with a previous sponsor, and they had been quite thorough -- but as is often the case, "more will be revealed" and their reports of how the inventory writing was going this time around indicated a lot of deep dark stuff was being dredged from the depths.

SPONSEE:  Freaking out and... and I'm... I'm arguing with you in my head.

ME:  You are?  Cool!  How am I doing?  Am I winning?

They laughed a little, then sighed.

SPONSEE:  Actually, you're kind of mean.

ME:  Mean?  Wow.  That's a little out of character, I think... I hope, anyway.

SPONSEE:  I'm just ... I'm just really freaking out about reading you this stuff.  I'm just imagining you saying all kinds of...

ME:  Okay, stop.  Listen.  I am not there to endorse or condemn.  I am there to witness, and offer my experience if you want it and some insight if you feel its needed.  That's it.  I'm a witness to your process -- and that is a role, in fact, I feel it is a privilege to have.  The 5th Step says, "Admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being..." it does not say "... another human being who will, like that one unfair judge at the Olympics, always give you a bad score even though everyone agrees you totally stuck the dismount."

They laughed.

SPONSEE:  Okay.  Okay.  That... that helps.

ME:  Good.  Honestly, remember, whatever you read me will always stay between you and me, and for the most part I am just there to witness.  If I can and it's needful, maybe I'll offer some thoughts or help you fill in some blanks.  NO judgment.  Just tell the mean me in your head to shut up.  No, wait.  Tell him I might need him some time when I'm negotiating a good deal on a car, but he needs to just shut the hell up when it comes to the Steps.  Okay?

SPONSEE:  Okay.

ME:  See you tomorrow?

SPONSEE:  See you tomorrow.

And they did.

 

Questions via Email: Quickies

Didn't want to fall too far behind with emails, hence these "Quickies" from the inbox.  For those of you who recognize your question in my brief summary of what you wrote, but feel I did not grasp the heart of what you were asking, please accept my apologies and write again so I can get it right.  Cheers!

__________________________________________________

Dear Mr. SponsorPants,

I am very new to AA, and when people share about their sponsor sometimes it sounds like everything from a therapist to a life coach.  What does a sponsor actually do?

A sponsor should take you through the 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous and in general help you apply AA's principles to your life on a daily basis -- not because it makes you a "good" moral person -- but because when we don't live that way we tend to snap, and drink again.  A sponsor is most definitely NOT a therapist or a life coach although I understand why you might draw those comparisons.  A sponsor is a sounding board, a person to check in with when life hands you the inevitable forks in the road, a resource for AA experience and direction.  (AA's direction, not their personal brainstorm, exactly.)  By sponsoring people the sponsor stays sober, so you are helping them as much -- if not more -- than they may be helping you, so please remember that.  There is no debt incurred on the part of a sponsee towards their sponsor in any way, although often gratitude and real affection develop over time. But that's not a debt.  A sponsor is not qualified to give medical advice or financial counsel outside of how AA suggests one approach those issues -- which boils down to seeking the appropriate professionals and being honest with them about whatever issues you may have which brought you to them in the first place.  Ideally a sponsor shares their sober experience and support over time, hopefully setting an example, not "giving instructions."  As there is no debt, you can change sponsors at any time.

In the book "Living Sober" there is a whole chapter which talks about sponsorship, and there is a (free!) brochure called "Questions and Answers on Sponsorship" which you should be able to find at most AA meetings, or if not at your AA Central Office, the location of which you should be able to find online if no one you ask can give you clear directions as to how to find it.  No doubt you could contact any number of AA resources online and someone would send it to you, too.  I STRONGLY suggest that you read those to get more clarification on sponsorship.

____________________________________________________________

Dear Mr. SponsorPants,

The other day [Mr. SP edit: this post] you talked about "partnering" with God to help get rid of character defects, as in Steps 6 & 7.  I'm a little confused by that.  I thought in Step 7 the point was that we were asking God to remove our defects/shortcomings.  Can you explain what you mean about "partnering"?

The 12 Steps are a process, the primary result of which is a spiritual experience which allows alcoholics and addicts to remain clean and sober in a state of Grace, without the kind of clenched mental anguish and gritted teeth which most would call "white knuckling it" -- and which does not have a great track record among real alcoholics when it comes to staying sober for the long haul.  (There is, of course, much more to be said about what a spiritual experience is and can achieve, but let's keep it to basics for a moment.) 

Back when we took Step 3 ("Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.") we agreed that from that point forward, God was the Boss, we were the gopher ("... God was going to be our Director.  He is the Principal; we are His agents...").  So while I ask God to remove my character defects, I don't get to sit back and not do anything (I wish!) simply waiting for God to magically make me defect-free.  I am a part of the process -- on my better days, a willing part, on my worser days, a grudging part -- but part of it nonetheless. 

_______________________________________________

Dear Mr. SponsorPants,

What's the deal with 13th Stepping newcomers?

13th Stepping?  I vote No.  (A brief definition of 13th Stepping would be using AA as a way to hit on people, newcomers in particular.  There's nothing wrong with hitting on people, it's the deceit  and/or the potentially taking advantage of those who are not entirely "on their game" -- vulnerable -- that is the "wrong" part.)

More on sex and newcomers to AA here.  

__________________________________________________

Hope some of that is helpful!

Once again, cheers!

sucker

I guess the reason they call it a sucker punch is because you have to be kind of a sucker to fall for it.

It was boxing week at The Academy Day Camp.  This was not an ordinary after school day camp, but one for boys who were a little out of step with their peers.  Each week we were given some basic athletic instruction and then thrust into various sports -- the idea being (I presume) that with a little macho nurturing some latent native ability stored in our Y chromosomes would manifest and we would, if not shine, then at least not come home from school with a shiner, as so often some of my camp mates had. (In general I fared a little better, socially.  Early on I had learned the power of funny-mean, so while I was definitely out of step with my peers, I didn't have quite the bully bullseye painted on my forehead that some of my companions seemed to).

Thus I stood, maybe 12 years old, in one corner of the ring, the boxing gloves on my hands feeling like over-achieving oven mitts, nervously eying my opponent across the canvas (thinking for the umpteenth time that I'd rather be at the library).  My opponent made me nervous not because he was bigger than I was, but because he was smaller, and I was afraid I would hurt him.  I was not a particularly physically aggressive child, so this fear was an unfamiliar one.

The counselor gave a little lecture about fair play and good sportsmanship.  I looked over the other boys standing outside the ring, with expressions ranging from boredom to relief that they weren't one of the ones about to box.

In our shadow boxing session earlier that afternoon it turned out that I had a quick left jab and what promised to be an excellent right hook, and so, plucked from the chorus line of boys listlessly flailing at their shadows on the wall, I was thrust center stage and about to make my big boxing debut -- against a boy somewhat smaller than I.

I kept waiting for someone to point that out, or during the portion of the counselor's little speech about fair play for someone to say, "hey, wait, what about ...?"  but no one did.  My mind was already blown by standing in a boxing ring with gloves on and mere seconds from a fight, so there was no way I could summon the wherewithal to bring it up myself.

They rang a little bell, and I remember it sounded like the ring of every cliche boxing bell you've heard in every movie ever made:  Ding!

And we just stood there.

"Go on!" the counselor yelled.

We moved towards the middle and began jabbing at each other. 

"Cheer them on!" the counselor hectored our fellow campers, who, somewhat unsure as to what constituted a boxing "cheer" exactly, fell back on that old school yard stand-by, "Fight!"

"Fight!  Fight!  Fight!" was what they were aiming for, but it was not a rousing chorus, as no doubt some of them were suffering mild post traumatic flashback episodes of being roughed up at recess while a gang shouted that very thing, so try as they might to get a good chant going, it came out more like "Fi... fi ... fi..." the word dying on their lips after each fresh utterance.  "Fi ... fi ... fi..." it was like Jack's giant but with a sad stutter.

I hit him a good one, and he stepped back and bent over, holding his gloves over his face as if he were hurt.

I freaked out.  The boys stopped chanting.  I waited for the counselor to go over to him ... and waited ... and waited ... I looked from the counselor to the boy, back and forth... the counselor stood there, watching.  Impassive.  Making no move at all.

So I went over to my opponent, worry making my voice tight and high:  "Hey, are you ...?"

And he popped up and clocked me  He'd been faking.  Playing possum to draw me in.

My memory of this next part is crystal clear:

The counselor thought this was hilarious.  He roared with laughter.

I thought we were done, but the counselor urged us back to it.

Jab-jab-jab-jab-jab Pow!  I connected again.

And again he backed off, holding himself and acting hurt. 

This time I wouldn't be fooled.  I waited... and the boy stayed in his "I'm hurt" posture.

The counselor still didn't do anything.  He stood there watching, again impassive, making no move to help, and the other boy remained hunched.

I waited.

And waited.

"What if he was really hurt this time?" I thought  "What if I really hurt him?  What if he really needed help and everyone was thinking he was faking but we were all wrong and now he ..."

I'll end your misery:  I am a sucker.  I am the sucker the punch was named for.

He out-waited me, and I finally grew more worried than cautious, and he repeated his pop-and-clock move, met with even greater hilarity from the counselor.

The rest of the afternoon has faded in my memory over time, but that incident ... I've been ashamed of that for years.   What a dupe.  What a fool.  What a rube. What a stupid, stupid sucker.  How weak, right?  After all, the old saying is a good one, "Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me."  Shame on me, in me and dogging me.

And the fact that it happened when I was a child just made the memory more painful as an adult, as if it revealed some deep-seated flaw in my manhood, in my intelligence, in my ability to judge and survive.

And you know what?  Maybe it does.  After all, there is no point in this story where I can tell you that I don't think what happened in the ring that afternoon doesn't show me as a true sucker.

Some "old ideas" about ourselves are old.  Deeply entrenched. 

"You're a sucker, Mr. SponsorPants."

Yes, I am.  But suddenly it means something very different to me.

Here is how prayer and service heal me:

I have been praying for fresh eyes to see myself more clearly, to understand my character defects more deeply and be relieved of them more fully.  And I've been praying hard.

And recently I was talking with a sponsee about something from their childhood which deeply shamed them.  Unbidden, this memory of what a sucker I was from so long ago came to me, and I shared it with my sponsee.  Our conversation went on, we felt the camaraderie of people working to let go of old hurts, we looked at how the tools AA offers can help do that.

My sponsee went on their way, and later that night, there I was, praying hard.

"My Creator, I am now willing that you should have all of me, good and bad.  I pray that you now remove from me every single defect of character which stands in the way of my usefulness to You and my fellows.  Grant me strength, as I go out from here, to do Your bidding, Amen."

(For the new kids, that's the 7th Step Prayer from the book "Alcoholics Anonymous,"  AA's Big Book, and you can find it on pg. 76.)

The next morning, in the shower, I was thinking about that old boxing match, and all that it meant to me, and how in the back of my mind it had always been a symbol of what a stupid sucker I can be.

And out of nowhere, ripping this old idea to shreds and casting it away, came this thought:

"Okay.  Fine.  You're a sucker.  But maybe that doesn't mean you're stupid.  Maybe it means that you care more about not hurting people than you do about your own ego.  Maybe instead of revealing a fundamental bad thing about yourself, it actually reveals a fundamental good?"

I was thunderstruck at this revolutionary idea.

Now, if you don't believe in God, that's fine, you don't have to to get sober, and you might just think this:

"Huh, well Mr. SponsorPants, it seems to me that your subconscious and your desire to see yourself differently partnered in your sleep to come up with a new idea which was a salve to your ego after all these years."  Okay, maybe that's true.  I'll take my relief and insights however I might come to them.

If you do believe in God, then may I offer that you might think this:

"Wow.  A completely new thought -- practically alien to your old thinking, really -- coming as it did with such a profoundly different viewpoint, particularly against the backdrop of this very deeply grooved -- lifelong even -- belief system.  Mr. SponsorPants, you might consider that Divinely inspired, and perhaps an answer to some of that hard hard praying you've been doing."

I work diligently at my faith, but you don't have to poke around the blog too much to see that some days it is rich and alive and a buoyant force keeping me aloft, and other days the prayers are like sand in my mouth and I am overcome with grim despair and a sharp antipathy towards any idea of a Higher Power.

So some days I'll probably think the former about this, and other days (quite a bit more of the Faith Days, I suspect for a while) I'll think the latter.

But regardless, what has happened to me is that through service, prayer and reflection (which is just what meditation calls itself on Casual Fridays) an old wound has healed, and an old shame has alchemized into something very different.  I look at that boy in the boxing ring and I am actually proud to have been him -- proud to have been that kind of sucker. 

To have but a few profoundly new and fresh thoughts in mere moments wash away the rotten bile of almost a lifetime's self loathing ... well, some miracles are quiet ones, and no one else need be convinced of them but you, yourself.  Today I feel touched by a small miracle.  Very small, but no less miraculous.

We are transformed through Alcoholics Anonymous in ongoing, unexpected ways.

From the book "Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions" pg. 79:

"Very deep, sometimes quite forgotten, damaging emotional conflicts persist below the level of consciousness.  At the time of these occurrences, they may actually have given our emotions violent twists which have since discolored our personalities and altered our lives for the worse."

My experience is that in AA I continue to discover these things and be healed.

It still works if I still work it.

And this healing, this ongoing miracle of relief and recovery, is available to anyone reading this, anyone who wants it, if they but follow AA's very simple path.

If this sucker can keep doing it, then I wager pretty much anyone can.