I will continue wearing shorts long past the point of practicality. It’s 52° right now, and I’m sporting sandals, shorts, and a T-shirt. Actually, I double-layered the T-shirt, so I guess that’s growth.
Step 6: were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.
If it was 52° in March, there’s no way I’d be wearing anything less than blue jeans, socks and shoes, plus a sweater.
My brain’s like that: slow to react. I will find myself in a mentally untenable situation, and instead of coming to a resolution, I’ll simply sit in it. I’ll talk myself up and I’ll talk myself down. I’ll get wrong-sized on both ends. However, the tendency is to sink into the negative, and wallow and sulk and isolate and wonder if anything’s truly, honestly working, or have I simply been fooling myself for however long the number on the coin says? I need to not let it get to that point, which can only be achieved by going in the opposite direction of my deeply ingrained natural reactions. And that’s usually scary.
Scarier than being sober? Scarier now because I’m sober? Yes and of course. Different is always scary to me; that’s why I avoided change like the plague for as long as I could. I avoided it until the pain became too great.
What the program’s teaching me: not to wait. Nobody cares how long I suffer. They just wonder why.