I need to believe and believe again.  The twelve steps must serve as a foundation for my spiritual growth.  For me, they need to become given truths.  They need to be one-hundred percent believed.  I need something bigger than myself.

Step Two:  came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.

I’m not saying most steps are one-and-dones.  That’s not it at all.  But I need to accept them as fact in order for me to let go long enough to maybe, possibly, learn something.  When I take back control, when I get in my own way, that’s when the program seems to be a bunch of mumbo-jumbo that only works on the weak-minded.  I’m better than this.  Don’t worry about me, God.  I know you’re busy.  Go take care of all the mouth-breathing head-bobbers; I can handle it myself.  It’s like I’m sucking up to the teacher for extra credit.  That’s me in the clouds, clapping erasers.

Remember, I’m the one who scoffs at standardized testing.  I’m the one who knows all the rules of social etiquette and proper behavior.  I also happen to be the only one who follows them.  On good days, I keep this knowledge to myself and do not share it with the rule-breaking public in general.  On bad days I huff and puff; I let out loud exclamations of disbelief and storm out of situations that are going counter-intuitive to the way things should be.  If you’re in line ahead of me, and you’re on your cell phone, and you don’t notice that the cashier is waiting for you to recognize that she’s open, you’re gonna get a great big, “Wake Up!” out of me.  Sorry.  That’s just the way it is now.  And even though I’m sober and I know it’s wrong, it’s light years better than what I used to say and do.  So, you know, growth.

And even that’s getting better.  There are now days when I’ll lightly tap your shoulder to let you know it’s your turn to go; and when you continue talking throughout the entire transaction, digging through your purse for correct change while cradling your phone against your shoulder so it can take as long as humanly possible, you time-hogging, selfish blankety-blank, you’ll get nothing but a world-weary chuckle out of me.  On my right-sized days, that’s all you rate.  I don’t have to love it.  I just no longer need to actively hate it.

Understand today:  God doesn’t need me to show off.  He’s not impressed when I make myself miserable.  He’s already got one martyr in the family.

One thought on “i can help the next person.

  1. A counselor once described the twelve steps as a wisdom tradition, that is a way of living in the world as it is as well as seeing how it could be. The concept always helped me.

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