Daily Reprieve

From Courage to Change of Aug 09:

Before coming to Al-Anon, I never felt I could be myself around other people. I was too busy trying to be what I thought others wanted me to be, afraid people wouldn’t accept me the way I am.

But with my first Al-Anon meeting I felt at ease. Members talked about common characteristics that I recognized in myself. “They’re talking about themselves, but they’re describing me!” I thought. “I’m not crazy after all!” Meetings helped me to realize that there were many people in this world like me – people who had been affected by another’s alcoholism. I didn’t have to lie to people in these meetings, and eventually I learned that I didn’t have to lie to anyone anywhere. I came to see that I can live my life for inner peace and not for outward appearances.

Today’s Reminder

Living with joys and problems affirms my membership in the human race. What sets me apart is the path on which I have been placed to walk. No one can walk it for me, nor can I change my path to suit anyone else.

“The shell that had enclosed my life, that had prevented me from living and loving, has cracked, and the power of the Al-Anon program is filling the void that for years kept me at a distance from life.” ~ As We Understood …

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NOTE: Title: As We Understood… This book is a collection of writings from Al-Anon members sharing their personal and diverse understandings of spirituality and a Higher Power.

Published by: Al-Anon Family Groups
First Published: 1985
Length: ~250 pages
Purpose: Spiritual exploration and personal understanding of a Higher Power.

Rather than presenting a fixed doctrine or theology, the book emphasizes:

• Personal experiences with spirituality
• Cultural and religious diversity in understanding a Higher Power
• Evolution of spiritual awareness through the Twelve Steps
• Meditations, reflections, and essays from individual members

Before I found recovery, I was a shapeshifter—not the mythical kind, but the wounded kind. I wore masks so well that I began to forget there was a face beneath them. I measured my value in terms of acceptance from others, crafting versions of myself like armor. But it was never about love—it was about fear. Fear that the raw, unpolished truth of who I was would repel the world. So I adjusted, adapted, and appeased.

And then, one day, I walked into a 12 Step room. I didn’t know what I was expecting—maybe judgment, maybe silence—but instead I heard people speak my soul aloud. They were describing themselves, but every word mirrored something hidden inside me. Shame melted a little. I laughed when they laughed. I cried before I even knew why. “I’m not crazy after all.” That realization didn’t come like a lightning bolt—it came like a warm light, quiet and steady, touching places long frozen over.

These rooms gave me more than just recognition. They gave me permission. Permission to stop lying. To stop managing perceptions. To stop living as an echo of someone else’s approval. I started to learn that truth isn’t a weapon—it’s a salve. And honesty, the kind I feared would exile me, became the bridge to connection. That bridge didn’t lead to performance—it led to peace.

The journey inward is one no one can walk for me. My pain may not be unique, but my path is. And when I accepted that—when I stopped editing myself for the sake of belonging—I discovered that I had always belonged. I just hadn’t yet arrived.

There’s something sacred about breaking open. Like a shell cracked by divine timing, the fracture isn’t a failure—it’s a threshold. I didn’t just let go of control. I let go of loneliness. That empty space I carried for so long wasn’t a flaw—it was a womb, waiting to be filled by something real. The Al-Anon program didn’t just hand me tools. It breathed into that emptiness, and what grew there was life. Messy, beautiful, human life.

Now I understand that I don’t walk this road to be seen—I walk it to see. Myself. Others. My Higher Power. And I walk it honestly. That means sometimes with a limp. Sometimes off course. But always, always toward the truth. And that’s the gift I protect most fiercely: I no longer abandon myself just to be loved. I love myself enough not to abandon who I am becoming.