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I’m sitting inside a coffeehouse this morning, stumped on what to write about.  And I didn’t center myself this morning, which means that I displace my underlying anger (which is always there) on the people in line; silently judging them for not thanking their server, waiting their turn, getting out of the way, or being mindful of their surroundings.  See, I have an agenda.  I want to crank out this blog and be done with it for the day, because I’ve got a 10:00 meeting this morning, then it’s full-on chores and appointments until 5:00, and I’m getting irritated that something I do to help keep me sober is getting in the way of my serenity.  How’s that for pure alcoholic thinking at its best?

Step Six: were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.

It’s like saying, “As soon as I get the lawn mowed, then I’ll have time to mow the lawn.”  What am I working toward?  If I don’t know what the goal is supposed to look like, how will I know if I ever achieve it?  And I’m not talking about solving my alcoholism here.  The goal I’m shooting for is successfully checking off a number of items on my to-do list before washing up and going out on a date with my wife.  We got a sitter!

But, worst case scenario, let’s say I get nothing accomplishes beyond this blog.  It’s been raining since before dawn, so the mowing’s out.  And maybe no easy solutions come, and everything takes twice as long as I thought, and the list goes largely unchecked for the day.  What’s that leave me with?  A big bowl of failure, that’s what – I didn’t get done what I’d planned.  I didn’t get what I wanted, when or how I wanted it.  Things I tried to control weren’t cooperating.  Which is fine, but if it’s upsetting to me, the lack of results from my own best efforts, that means I’ve taken back my will, and the world isn’t going along with it.

Working myself into a hissy because I’m not meeting my own overblown designs on the day is one of my favorite ways to unbalance my brain.  I create the situation or condition.  Then I get stuck in it.  Then I complain that I can’t get out.  Depression follows – here we go again, and I use the word “we” because I include everyone in the blaming of the ruining of my day.  Since I can’t completely put a finger on what’s got me all buggered up, some of it must be someone else’s fault.  It just stands to reason.

Today:  Turn my list over to God.  What gets done and doesn’t get done doesn’t matter.  Remember: it’s all in the handling.

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