During last night’s meeting, I was reminded of my number-one character defect. And, the curious thing is, it comes in two distinct flavors.

Step 4: made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.

It’s Pride with a capital “P”. It’s the giant cardboard cut-out that I prop up for all to gather ’round in wide wonder at the greatness of my construction. This is the me I want you to see; never mind the creases, tape and staples. That’s the arrogant, above-it-all, better-than-you person I am at my highest inflation, dropping sandbags of derision on those beneath me. And that elation that comes with self-elevation? Sweet, sweet chocolate.

Now, here comes vanilla. The true me; away from the lights and onlookers. The plain Jane depressive. As the 12 & 12 book says, “We wallow in this messy bog, often getting a misshapen and painful pleasure out of it… we have lost all perspective, and therefore all genuine humility. For this is pride in reverse.”  Exactamundo.

It’s two different approaches trying to accomplish the same result: me, drinking. Either everything’s awesome and I can handle my liquor, or everything’s lost and so what’s the point of sobriety?

Thankfully, there’s an answer that works on both: staying right-sized. Pride preys on the extremes; it craves its head out the window or in a bucket, neither of which is too much fun, after a while.

Today, remember: Pride is the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat inappropriately applied to daily events.

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