If I know that most of my thoughts and strongly held beliefs are nothing more than constructs used by my disease to keep me miserable, isolated and alone, waiting for the day when everything’s finally been torn down for good, so that I may spend the rest of my days in a self-made prison, then why do I give it so much credence?
Step 4: made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.
I’ve clung to the idea of “constitutionally incapable of being honest with themselves” since I first heard it read in a meeting. If there was ever a sentence that could set me apart, separate me from the rest and therefore keep me special, this was it. It’s the one time where the program itself shrugs its shoulders at the lost causes. Hey, some people are just fundamentally broken. Tough love from the Dust Bowl era.
I’m not talking about the normal Step 4, where a list is involved. I mean, just take my old list and swap out the names where appropriate and it’s my same old shortcomings in a slightly different setting. I’m talking about the overall willingness to work on myself and get my head right, not just live in the day-to-day world of not drinking. That alone isn’t getting it done. It’s just freeing my schedule to spend more time fixating, isolating, and resenting those who aren’t sweating it. I’m getting everything wrong-sized in my head, then taking that attitude into everyday situations. I’m literally walking through the door with a mind full of judgement and anger and betrayal, considering the days when I’m able to stuff it all down and swallow hard, as victories.
And that just might be the hang-up: Between Steps 3 and 4, there needs to be more than decisions made. Action needs to be taken. Positive, healing, releasing action.