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Do I need a reason to be miserable?  No, not really.  Which is strange, because it sometimes feels like there needs to be an act of Congress in order for me to be happy, like I need to be allowed, or given permission.

Step 3: made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God, as we understood Him.

It’s the serenity prayer from Bizarro World.  I get depressed about things I cannot change, angry that changing the things I can requires effort, and confused when it comes to knowing the difference.  So I simplify it: everyone change or I’m upset.

Guess who’s always upset lately?

And I’m back to playing this game:  There’s a feeling in my chest of unrest and sadness.  So my brain goes looking for what might be the cause.  And I have always assumed that whatever pops into my head is what’s really bothering me.  But nothing could be further from the truth.  Most times, I grab something from my insanity bag that I want to chew on, because I know it offers zero resolution.  Just sour, hard taffy that cements my molars and throbs my jaw line.

Displacement goes great with any type of malaise, and I am especially good at packing it in-between two thick slices of self-pity.

Which goes back to one thing: not working the steps, not working the program, not calling my sponsor, not getting out of my own way.  Not letting go, not letting God.  When I stop preemptively striking my bad moods and crazy thoughts, when I’m just sitting back and waiting for them to come at me, I’m doomed.  I always go in empty-handed with the hope that I’ll be able to handle them as they appear.  But that’s not how this program works. I’m supposed to be filling sandbags and building an emotional buffer that can at least slow down the waves of goofy that sometimes batters at my reality.

Today:  Remember that it’s all in the preparation.

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