The fact that I don’t greet each day with a sneer anymore is a spiritual awakening. My days use to be ruined before I fully woke up. I’d stir in bed until I remembered last night’s anger. Pissed before feet hit the floor. Let’s make sure everyone knows how serious I was yesterday by making today a resent-filled slow-burn of bad vibes.

Step Twelve: Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.

I never had a choice. I had to drink. There was no option. I prayed that I could control it. And by controlling it, I mean drinking just to the level where people don’t know. Stopping was altogether out. I knew I wasn’t going to win that one. My alcoholic life had become all about damage control. Hence, the isolation. I’d argue that alcoholism is the mother of invention. At least mental invention. There wasn’t anything I couldn’t pretzel into a reason to drink.

For today and the foreseeable future: What if I put spiritual awakening into a literal practice? When I awaken in the morning, make it spiritual. Roll out of bed onto my knees. Have a pillow down there waiting. As I come into consciousness, I slowly make contact with my higher power and ask for my tools to be sharp and at the ready.

Practice makes habit. I’m already familiar with rolling out of bed. Now it needs to count for something.

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