Sometimes a little shaking is required to get the person I’m making amends to, to appreciate my sincerity. I mean, for the people in my life who just don’t want to f’ing hear it, that’s one thing. But for those of my friends who want to downplay or brush off my alcoholism as no big deal, I have to let them know: it’s a very, very, very big deal.
Step 9: Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.
My friends go easy on me. Because it’s awkward, and they’re embarrassed for me. A number of them try to minimize my alcoholism, which used to piss me off, but now I understand. If I told them I had cancer, they wouldn’t say, “have the wife call me when you’re cold.” They would offer words of encouragement, including statements to the effect that the cancer isn’t like it was, it’s beatable, caught it early, and so forth.
See, I would take the lightening of the severity of my problem from my friends as an affront. And for me, to bite at that pride apple serves one purpose: big-size myself. So I remember sincerity and the sin. I remember to act with sincerity, and use the sin for the only thing it’s good for: a reminder.
It might not have seemed that bad to everyone else, but I was noticing a pattern that was turning into something I felt I needed to deal with. That’s the PG version I give them, if that’s what’s called for. If they want more, I’ll step up my language, but I don’t retell my multiple bottoms in gory detail to make my point.
If backed into a corner for confirmation, I take it straight to peeing the bed. Shuts the inquiries right down.