That’s not to say that people who have religion in their lives are saps. Let’s get that notion off the table right now. It’s just that this alcoholic always knew best. Like Robert Young, only slurrier. The more I studied, the more I understood how the world actually worked. And by “studied”, I mean “isolated and drank” and by “understood”, I mean “mentally twisted”.
Step 2: came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.
It can be exhausting, addressing the continual reminders that I had it wrong, or at least overly simplified. My diseased brain needed things nice and tidy and stashed away in their appropriate boxes. It was a requirement that I kept my justifications and rationalizations solidly cemented deep into the ground; these pillars of truth that I constructed, because my alcoholism tended to be messy, and the pillars were hard reminders that everything’s stacked against me, that things will never go my way, and that there’s a secret society of people bent on destroying me from within. They’re called friends and family. There’s an elaborate underground network of all the people in my life, and they’re all making sure that I’m kept in the dark, and that what’s really going on is never known to me. On bad days I assume that the program’s in on it too.
See what I’ve done? I’ve created a Power greater than myself that beats me into submission and messes up my thinking. This Power is also known as alcoholism, and it does its best work hidden in the background, right under my conscious thoughts. That way, I remain in charge, blissfully full of myself and unaware that it’s my worst beliefs and instincts that I’m relying on to get me through. I’m a puppet dictator and I don’t even know it.
What I’m learning lately: Being self-reliant isn’t the greatest thing you can be in this life. Especially when my track record shows a long list of failures that came as direct result of me doing it my way.
Today I try to understand: the less I believe, the more I trust.