There’s almost never an occasion where waiting a minute, taking a second, holding on for half a mo, doesn’t help. I say “almost never” because I’m allowing for accidents and gunfights.
Before this program, I plunged ahead with little to no regard for those around me; anxiously waiting for you to quit talking so that I could explain everything. I’m not even listening anymore; I’m simply keeping watch over your moving lips and readying myself. It’s not about communication; it’s about being heard. It’s about being validated. It’s about belching forth every insecurity, fear, envy, and resentment. Conversations become volleying monologues.
Step 1: We admitted we were powerless over alcohol – that our lives had become unmanageable.
What it was like: Forever plowing ahead, head down. Onto the next thing to get through. My theory: If I move through the world with a scowl and a huff, like I’m on my way to the hospital to perform a triple-bypass, well, then everyone should get out of my way, correct?
That’s all unmanageable. I’m not allowed to do this stuff anymore. I need to learn to wait my turn. Even if all those in front of me have stupid errands to run, or lesser concerns, or minor problems, that’s no excuse. None of the above makes me superior to my surroundings. I just makes me an arrogant, selfish jerk that likes throwing grown-up tantrums over childish wants.
Many times in retail stores items have been dumped unceremoniously onto the nearest shelf as protest for my perceived social contract slights. Isn’t anyone following the rules anymore? Am I the only one who received the handbook and studied?
I’ve heard “ego” describes as “Edging God Out”. For today, I understand that she could be standing next to me, someone’s grandma. Or he’s the crying sibling who’s not getting both toys today.
Worst case scenario: They’re just people worthy of my love.