“….We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it….. No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others. That feeling of uselessness and self-pity will disappear.”
I read the promises and smiled. I really could not bring myself to believe them. What I was missing was the opening phrase “If we are painstaking about this phase of our development we will be amazed before we are half-way through. We are going to know….”
I was too busy trying to impress those in the meeting, and, more importantly, my boss and my counselor, with just how good I was doing. I let them know how many meetings I was attending, doing 12step calls, chairing meeting, and, at meetings, I was quoting the Big Book as much as possible, that is, until one day I was told to “shut your mouth and take the cotton out of your ears. You have two ears to listen twice as much as you talk.”
I was like the proverbial cat on a hot tin roof. I was running from myself in a dry drunk as fast as I was running from myself under the influence of alcohol and other drugs. I didn’t like myself when I was drinking and I still did not like myself. I desperately wanted to please people and make myself look good. That’s hard to do with people who can see through you and care enough to tell you to listen more than talk.
“We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it.” I regretted the past and I wanted to close not just any door but a steel door on it. I wanted to look back just enough to write a fourth step and then close that door for good.
When I finally got serious about sobriety, I discovered the importance of keeping the door to my past open. As I looked back at my life while under the influence of mood-altering chemicals, I realized just how far down the scale I had fallen. I was holding on to what I had not lost as ‘proof’ that I was not really an alcoholic. However, as soon as I opened the door and took a good look at my past, I realized that the emptiness I felt was due to the fact I was not living up to the values I proclaimed to hold.
When I got the courage to share my past, I realized that I am human, that I was not rejected for what I had done. And then I did not want to forget it because that remembrance was my ticket to sobriety. I did not want to be in a situation where I would not remember the next morning.
“No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others.” I never thought of my story as being of any benefit to others until the night I received a telephone call and learned just how my story had encouraged someone to go into treatment. It is fascinating how different we all are and yet just how alike we are.
Step by step my head began to clear. Slowly I began to deal with my emotions as I confronted my past and the thought of my past helping another strengthened my commitment to sobriety. “That feeling of uselessness and self-pity...” began to disintegrate.
“If we are painstaking about this phase of our development we will be amazed before we are half-way through. We are going to know….” Amazed for sure. As I became more serious about working the steps and living the program on a daily basis, knowing that I am powerless over people, places and things, was a tremendous sense of freedom and I was still working my way through the steps.
“Painstaking” is the correct work for this phase of our development. It is painful to look in the mirror and be honest with oneself. It is painful to reflect on how my words and actions hurt others. It is painful to think that, because of alcohol and drugs, I do not remember so much of the life I have lived.
“We are going to know a new happiness…” the promises came true for me, and I have been able to face my past, confront my past, let go of my past and live in the present with peace and serenity. For this fellowship, for forty-seven years of serenity and sobriety, I am truly grateful, and for all those who walked this path with me.
Séamus D
Séamus D is a retired Episcopal priest in the Diocese of Louisiana.
