Over the Christmas break, I went to see Spider-Man: No Way Home. As a big comic book nerd, I had followed all the leaks, teases and news leading up to this new movie’s release. As a teen in the 1970s and 1980s, I remember how I related to Peter Parker. No matter what he did, it always backfired. Peter was a good-hearted guy but, he was ever the outsider.

The plot of the movie revolves around the world learning Spider-Man’s secret identity as Peter Parker. Its response is a mirror of the current state of our culture where we idolize or demonize people and divide into camps of love or hate. There is no gray space in which we may process, breathe, or come into our own truth. As Peter and his friends wrestle with their newfound fame, they must reckon with its fall out. Peter’s girlfriend and best buddy both receive death threats. The final straw for Peter is when all three amigos are rejected by every college for which they applied.

As Peter wrestles with the consequences of being exposed he realizes that he can ask his super-hero buddy, Dr. Strange, to go back in time and change the event that led to his big reveal. As I watched this unfold on the screen, I realized that as a recovering addict, I often imagine a similar scenario. Maybe it’s because it is the end of 2021 and I am looking back, but the temptation to fixate on the ghost of my past feels urgent. I can relate to Peter Parker in his desire to change his past.

The problem is that the past cannot be changed, forgotten, edited, or erased. As I recover, I surrender to the truth that the past must only be accepted.

I do not possess godlike powers to change the past. When I fixate on the past, I pretend to be god. I play the role of a supreme being who can reach back through the past, finesse the mistakes I have made, and in general, make the world a better place. Regretfully, such thoughts are fantasy rooted in selfishness and self-will. Ego run amok.  

Like so many people, this past year was a challenge. I started the year with so much hope for a return to normal. I longed for the time when the pandemic was just an afterthought. I dreamt of returning to in-person meetings, being able to worship without a mask and receive the Eucharist. Those dreams were slowly diminished and dismissed as we saw a series of COVID surges and the isolation continued.

Don’t get me wrong, there were incredible moments in this past year. I welcomed a new grandchild into my family and discovered my son and daughter-in-law are expecting my first grandson (the granddaughters still have him out numbered) due in May. There were glimpses of grace, mercy, and love in conversations with dear friends and loved ones. I have so very much for which to be thankful.

I have the wisdom of the steps to address these restless spirits of the past, be they familiar or mournful. In my step work, I try to honestly look at my past. I realize my addiction and co-dependency limited my ability to fully be present in my own body. I denied the very best of myself to those I loved most. I know that sobriety is far better than the illusion of a life which hides powerlessness.

This gift of working the steps sets me free from humiliations of my past failures and the unbearable pressures of achievements. In that space, I am free to give back to others what was so freely given to me. Step Twelve work expects us to lean into that calling. I do it because the community of recovery is stronger by doing so, not out of obligation. It takes the focus off me and puts it on the newcomer. I can’t help but think about paraphrasing Peter Parker’s Uncle Ben, “With great recovery comes great responsibility.” That responsibility is a burden I am willing to bear going into 2022. The good news is that I share that burden with my recovering brothers and sisters.

Thanks for helping share the load.

By Shane M