Admitting

With a new sponsor comes new homework assignments.   Since the 12 Steps aren’t ever actually complete in the “check them off and forget them” sense, my sponsor decided we would start at Step One and work them all again.  Totally cool.  Most folks work the steps in their entirety every year anyway.

Step 1: We admitted we were powerless over alcohol,  that our lives had become unmanageable. (See why folks joke that the first step is admitting that you have a problem?  Because it IS actually the First Step!  Clever, no?)

Last night, at the behest of Senorita Sponsor, I wrote out at timeline of my drinking career as part of my First Step homework.  Somehow, I underestimated how depressing revisiting the First Step would be.

I mean, doesn’t it sound fun?

Starting with your first drink, list the ways in which drinking has negatively impacted your life and the ways in which you strove to protect your addiction.

Exploring the chaos and destruction that I left in my wake as a result of drinking… a virtual party, right?  Guaranteed to pull up some rather wicked memories, memories that I apparently had worked pretty hard to compartmentalize and push way to the back of my mind.

Regardless how difficult it can be to dredge through some of my past actions, the behaviors that these memories bring to light serve as a guideline for things I need to cut the hell out.

For instance, after college (but before my drinking had crossed that alcoholic line), I had already developed this self-centered, arrogant attitude that allowed me to continuously justify my behaviors to myself, not matter how atrocious.  And believe me, I spent a lot of time justifying.  In fact, according to the philosophy of me, I didn’t do much wrong.  If people could just understand the position I was in… This attitude aided and abetted my alcoholism later on.  Justification is dangerous for me.  Taking responsibility for my actions–all of my actions–keeps me on the straight and narrow.  No justification here, folks!

As I wrote out incident after incident that showed my drinking progressing to its lethal potential, I remembered that I don’t ever want to be that person again.  Alcoholism had taken me to a point where my actions were eating away at my soul. I couldn’t be who I wanted to be with a drink in my hand.  But I had no idea how to change.

There was a point where I couldn’t imagine not drinking.  I had no idea how people made it through a day without a drink.  Remembering that utter hopelessness makes it real again.

Sometimes it is good to remember, even if it hurts.  The hurt that memories can cause pales in comparison to the havoc that would result if I picked up a drink.

Thank God I don’t ever have to be in that place again.

Advertisements
Explore posts in the same categories: Uncategorized

Tags: ,

You can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: