My wishes aren’t of the genie-just-popped-from-the-bottle variety. I’m not dreaming about mansions on hills or jets made of solid gold. My wishes normally are concerned with stopping something bad or making something slightly better.
I just wish I made 25% more money. I just wish we’d get along better. I just wish I’d quit diving into the deep end of the negative pool of emotions. I just want things to run a little smoother, a little easier. I feel I’m making responsible wishes; doable ones, ones that are well within the realm of possibilities. I’m not being greedy. I’m not hoping to smite my enemies. I don’t want to win the lottery. And since I see my wishes as humble ones, I get all bent out of shape when they fail to materialize. Mainly because I’m not sure where I should be placing the blame.
Step 3: Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood him.
The pink cloud of early sobriety doesn’t last forever, and once it went away, so did my gratefulness. I’d been playing by the rules, following the program, keeping my nose to the grindstone and all that jazz. However, when I stopped and looked up, all I had to show for my efforts was a nose severely out of joint. Where’s my pot of gold, the one everyone else seemed to receive just for showing up? I needed a win and soon. Something tangible. Something I could rub in other people’s faces. I was no longer satisfied with the silent knowledge that I was no longer losing at an alarming rate.
I was attempting to apply backwards control. And what that amounted to was this: I had confused God with Santa Claus. Sure, they looked similar and both lived way up north, but that’s where the similarities ended. Expecting rewards for doing the next right thing meant that I was no longer doing the next right thing for the right reasons.
I needed to quit expecting God to spent each night wrapping a present for me to open first thing in the morning. I needed to let go of that warped thinking and let God take control. I gotta stop worrying about the end result, because there isn’t one. That’s the truth that I didn’t want to accept, and can struggle with for as long as I wish to remain miserable.
For today: Be thankful for my gift of sobriety. As long I accept it in the spirit in which it was given, there’s a fresh one waiting for me tomorrow, as long as I’m willing to put in the effort.