Endigar 1073
From Courage to Change of Oct 23:
When the alcoholic I loved got sober I was sure that the nightmare was over! But without the tranquilizing effect of alcohol, she became verbally abusive. She accused, attacked, insulted, and I always defended myself. It seemed crucial that she understand. But that didn’t happen, no matter how much I argued, pleaded, or insulted in return. I felt trapped and hopeless.
Sobriety brings change, but it doesn’t take away all the problems. Al-Anon helps me learn that I don’t have to accept the unacceptable, nor do I have to argue back or convince another person that I’m innocent or right. I can begin to recognize when I am dealing with alcoholism’s insanity, and I can detach. I certainly don’t have to respond by doubting myself.
Today’s Reminder
When cruel words fly from the mouth of another person, drunk or sober, Al-Anon helps me remember that I have choices. Perhaps I can say the Serenity Prayer to myself, or refuse to discuss the topic any further. I can listen without taking the words personally; I can leave the room, change the subject, make an Al-Anon call, or explore other alternatives. My Sponsor can help me to discover options that seem right for me.
“We may never have the choices we would have if we were writing the script, but we always have choices.” ~ In All Our Affairs
END OF QUOTE—————————————
When the alcoholic stops drinking, the silence afterward can feel like peace—but it isn’t always peace. It’s the sound of reality returning, unfiltered. For many in recovery, that first period of sobriety is a psychic rawness: every resentment, fear, and unhealed wound begins to speak. And for those who love them, it can feel like betrayal—“Wasn’t I promised relief?”
That disappointment reminds us that the nightmare does not end with the last drink. Sobriety unmasks what alcohol had been tranquilizing: rage, shame, confusion, grief. To love someone through that stage is to realize that serenity cannot be borrowed; it must be grown.
“I always defended myself.”
That line is the hinge of awakening. Reaction feels natural when attacked, but it’s also the trap—the endless replay of trying to be understood by the un-understandable.
Al-Anon’s power lies in this subtle liberation: the discovery that understanding is not required for peace. One can stop arguing not out of defeat, but out of wisdom. One can detach, not to punish, but to preserve sanity.
Detachment is not coldness—it’s clarity. It’s saying: This storm does not have my name on it.
Ultimately theory must shift to muscle memory. Serenity becomes something rehearsed, like breathing techniques in a crisis. A short prayer. A step away. A call to a sponsor. A change of subject.
Recovery becomes visible not in the grand gesture, but in the pause between triggers. That pause—when you remember you have choices—is the quiet resurrection of dignity.
“We may never have the choices we would have if we were writing the script, but we always have choices.” This is spiritual realism. None of us gets to rewrite the first act, but every moment offers an edit to the next line.
In trauma, we were directed by others’ madness. In recovery, we reclaim authorship—sometimes just one line at a time.
Daily Reprieve 
Leave a comment