As long as I look at the Steps as chores, my results will vary, and the promises will mutate. I find I can become just as amazed in the opposite direction, even though I’m not at the halfway-through point yet. I’m sure that doesn’t make much sense, but that’s as close as I’m going to get making heads or tails out of why some days are nothing but a series of struggles with myself and my serenity.
Step 1: we admitted we were powerless over alcohol – that our lives had become unmanageable.
Doing the next right thing can’t be the only thing I do. And the thought of daily prayers and meditations and readings shouldn’t evoke the same reaction as taking out the trash or washing the dishes. Ugh, I’ve got to go get centered so I don’t return to the life I hated. This sucks. I’ll put it off and wait until I’m a little less stable and a little more unglued. Actually, now that I think about it, I get more immediate and positive satisfaction out of the trash and the dishes: there’s an immediacy and a finality and a sense of accomplishment which can be easily measured, looked at, and pointed to for approval.
When will I understand that the absence of an aggravation in no way equals serenity? Why must I always wait until the boat is taking on water before rationalizing and justifying my inertia? Is it because I enjoy the immediate rush that comes with the drama of boiling over? I’ll take those intense feelings wherever I find them, and the easiest way to access them is through anger at myself and at my own actions or lack thereof.
But that’s no way to go through life; waiting for the worst and when the worst doesn’t come, creating it.
For today: Do what’s important first and always: Admit, then ask. Sobriety and serenity isn’t all about not doing. Quite the opposite.