There’s never been any trouble recognizing when I’m not working the program. People’s faces change.
Step Three: Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God, as we understood Him.
When the program’s working, I try to leave it alone and not bother it. Like a pitcher in the middle of a no-hitter, it’s best left alone. Don’t want to jinx it. But that’s the absolute worse time to leave it be, because I’m ignoring the miracle and taking my sobriety for granted. No kudos are given for maintaining civility among the normals. No pats on the back made for stepping up and helping others. I needn’t get too worried about over-inflating my ego; my depressive side always wins that game of paper rock scissors.
Action One: Drove to work without indecent. That’s huge. No finger-flipping, no muttering, no gunning the gas nor slamming the brakes. No anger at the mergers and non-mergers. No quick lane changes to save five seconds.
Action Two: When I sit in my office chair, my Microsoft Outlook Reminder dings out a message on my screen: “Morning Meditation: Sobriety, wife, daughter.” I close my eyes and breathe in and out, those names repeated along with the acknowledgement of my need for these centering moments.
It’s bringing the program out in front of me every few hours, and see it for what it truly is: a lifesaver.