One of my favorite books growing up was The Three Little Pigs. There’s tons of different versions, the main difference being whether or not the wolf gets boiled in a big pot of water at the end. But my grandparents had a different story, one that continued the tale past the brick house, one in which the wolf lives on and continues to bait the pigs out of their house by inviting them to participate in various activities. There were three events (duh), and I don’t remember them all, but one was apple-picking. The wolf said he’d meet the pigs at the apple orchard at five in the morning. But the pigs showed up at four, picked all their apples and were back home before the wolf arrived.
The point being that the pigs consistently showed up an hour before the agreed-upon time with Mr. Big Bad, and took care of their business beforehand.
Rumination: So, It should be pretty obvious by now that the Big Bad Wolf is alcoholism, but let’s tease it out further. My id, ego, and superego are the three little pigs. And when I first got into the program, I always sought an easier softer way, hence the house of straw, followed by the house of sticks, until I finally came to realize that I needed to fully invest in solid brick and mortar.
But that’s not where the story ends. Just getting into the program isn’t happily ever after. It’s just the beginning, because I’m constantly asked to leave my brick house. It’s called living in the world.
So, to come full circle, the extended version ofThe Three Little Pigs offers me a glimpse into how to deal with the ever lurking-danger of my disease and one way is this: show up early. Get my prep work in. It doesn’t eliminate all of life’s surprises, but at least I’m in a better position to receive, accept, and do the next right thing.