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Endigar 972

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on June 10, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Jul 30:

I’ve often heard that happiness is an inside job, and, much of the time, I can be as happy as I diced to be. Yet I have often found happiness fleeting. I know it’s unrealistic to expect to be happy all the time, but I think I might achieve this goal much more often if I made a firmer commitment to my decision to be happy. Instead, I choose happiness and then abandon my choice at the first sign of trouble. How deep can my commitment be if I all eve slight obstacles to rob me of my sense of well-being?

Commitment takes work; it is a discipline. When I make a decision, I must ask myself what I really want and if I am willing to work for it. Old habits are hard to break. If i have a long-standing habit of responding to problems by feeling like a helpless victim, it may not be easy to stand by my decision to be happy. A change of attitude sometimes helps: Perhaps I can look at problems as opportunities to commit more deeply to my choices. In other words, every obstacle can prompt me to assert that I really mean it – I do want to be happy.

Today’s Reminder

When I make a choice and then stick with it, I teach myself that my choices do have meaning and I am worthy of trust. I have an opportunity to make a commitment to one of my choices today.

“Our very life depends on everything’s recurring till we answer from within.” ~ Robert Frost

END OF QUOTE—————————————

Sometimes I think recovery asks me not just to get sober, but to get real—to start telling the truth about what I really want, and how easily I abandon it when life pokes at old wounds.

This realization hits me in the gut, because I have chosen happiness before. I’ve whispered it in prayers, journaled it into affirmations, even tried to fake it till I made it. But under stress, I still default to that familiar old posture: the slumped shoulders of the victim, the inner narrative that says, “See? Nothing good lasts.”

But I don’t want to live like that anymore. That’s why I show up to meetings. That’s why I inventory. That’s why I pray.

Because happiness, for me, isn’t about getting what I want—it’s about learning to want what I’ve got. To bless it. To be in right relationship with my life, even when it’s inconvenient or painful or just plain boring.

And yeah—it takes commitment. Real, grown-ass, spiritual discipline. Not because I’m trying to be perfect, but because I’m trying to be free.

And every time I choose to recommit—to this path, to my recovery, to the decision to live awake—I remind myself:
I am not powerless over my own response.
I am not the victim of every passing emotion.
I am not who I used to be.

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Endigar 971

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on June 6, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Jul 29:

Al-Anon is a spiritual program based on no particular religion, and no religious belief is required. To those of us who have had less than wonderful experiences with religion in the past, this freedom is important. Spirituality doesn’t have to imply a particular philosophy or moral code; it simply means that there is a Power greater than ourselves upon which we can come to rely. Whether we call this a Higher Power, God, good orderly direction, Allah, the universe, or another name, it is vital to our recovery that we come to believe in a Power greater than ourselves (Step Two). Until we do, the rest of the Steps will not make much sense.

This Higher Power might be likened to the electricity that operates the lights and machinery of our recovery. It’s not necessary to understand what electricity actually is to enjoy its use – all we need to do is turn on the switch!

Today’s Reminder

I may be seeking a more loving God in who I can place my trust, or facing a challenge that puts my long-established beliefs to a test, or struggling with the very idea of a Higher Power. Whatever I believe, I can pray for greater faith today. Just that little act of willingness can work miracles.

“When I have at last realized that my problems are too big to solve by myself . . . I need not be alone with them if I am willing to accept help from a Higher Power.” ~ Al-Anon’s Twelve Steps & Twelve Traditions

END OF QUOTE—————————————

When I first walked into the recovery rooms, the mention of a “Higher Power” stirred something unsettled inside me. The wounds I carried from past religious experiences were still fresh in many places, and I didn’t want to trade one dogma for another. But the 12 Step program didn’t ask me to convert, confess, or conform. It asked only that I be willing.

Willing to believe that maybe—just maybe—I wasn’t the highest authority in my life.

The idea that I didn’t have to define my Higher Power in religious terms gave me permission to breathe again. In my darkest moments, I had already exhausted the power of self. I had been trying to fix what was broken using the very mind and habits that were shaped by the chaos. And when that stopped working—when control gave out and my answers failed me—there was space for something else.

Today, I don’t have to understand my Higher Power. I only need to use the switch—to ask, to pause, to listen, to reach beyond myself. My recovery doesn’t require theological precision. It requires honesty, openness, and a flicker of willingness.

Sometimes, I don’t even know what I’m praying to. I just know that the act of reaching outward and upward does something. It opens my clenched fists. It interrupts my spirals. It softens my self-reliance.

And maybe that’s the miracle.

Recovery has taught me that spirituality is not about arriving at certainty. It’s about showing up with humility, again and again, asking for help. And when I do that—even when my faith is the size of a mustard seed—I am not alone. That’s enough for today.

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Endigar 970 ~ The Hundredth Blow

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , on June 5, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Jul 28:

A stonecutter may strike a rock ninety-nine times with no apparent effect, not even a crack on the surface. Yet with the hundredth blow, the rock splits in two. It was not the final blow that did the trick, but all that had gone before.

The same is true of Al-Anon recovery. Perhaps I am working on accepting that alcoholism is a disease, or learning to detach, or struggling with self-pity. I may pursue a goal for months without obvious results and become convinced that I am wasting my time. But if I continue going to meetings, sharing about my struggle, taking it one day at a time, and being patient with myself, I may awaken to find that I have changed, seemingly overnight. Suddenly I have the acceptance, detachment, or serenity I’ve been seeking. The results may have revealed themselves abruptly, but I know that l those months of faith and hard work made the changes possible.

Today’s Reminder

We are often reminded to keep coming back. Today I will remember that this not only applies to meetings, but to learning the new attitudes and behavior that are the long term benefits of Al-Anon recovery. I may not see the results today, but I can trust that I am making progress.

“Try to be patient with yourself and your family. It took a long time for the disease of alcoholism to affect each and every one and it may take a long time for everyone to recover.” ~ Youth and the Alcoholic Parent

END OF QUOTE—————————————

There are days I feel like nothing is changing—like I’m chipping away at stone with bare hands. I say the affirmations, I read the literature, I show up to the meetings, and still… the old instincts return. The rage. The worry. The silence that suffocates instead of soothes.

But then I remember the stonecutter.

Ninety-nine blows with no crack to show for it. Not even a sliver. But on the hundredth—split clean down the middle. It wasn’t magic. It wasn’t luck. It was the accumulation of every attempt before.

That is how my recovery feels. That is what it is.

When trauma rules me, I become stone—frozen, resistant, hard. But recovery hands me the hammer. Every surrender is a strike. Every boundary I set, every time I detach with love, every time I forgive myself for relapsing into old thought patterns—that’s another strike. Quiet. Invisible. Building something I can’t yet see.

Sometimes it feels like nothing’s working. I get tired. I forget why I started. I think maybe I’m just one of those people who doesn’t “get better.” But I’m learning now—“suddenly” is never really sudden. It’s just the first moment I notice how far I’ve come.

This path isn’t linear. It’s circular. It’s layered. It’s sacred. Each day I choose to return—to a meeting, to a principle, to patience—is a day I say yes to healing, even when it doesn’t feel like it. And that’s enough.

So I’ll keep showing up.

I’ll keep striking the stone.

Because one day, without warning, the thing I thought could never shift—will.

And I’ll know: it wasn’t just the final blow. It was all of them.

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Endigar 969

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , on June 4, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Jul 27:

I take to heart the words in the Suggested Closing that say, ” . . . let there be no gossip or criticism of one another.” I try to leave my judgmental attitude at the door. Unfortunately, I pick it up again the instant I get into my car after the meeting.

Nobody drives well enough to suit me. The car ahead of me goes too slowly, and I am forced to get very close and push it along. The driver behind me does the same to me. Not to be intimidated, I swear at him and rive even slower. Don’t they know my rules of the road? In other words, through constant criticism and expectations of others, I isolate myself and act like a victim.

Whatever happened to practicing the Al-Anon principles in all my affairs? D I really think I can fully reap the benefits of the program by practicing unconditional love for a single hour two or three times a week? It may be a start, but only a start.

Today’s Reminder

I can’t keep thoughts from coming into my head, but I have a choice about whether or not to entertain those thoughts for the next hour. Am I making the choices I want to make, or is habit making my choices for me? A change of attitude means a change in my thinking. I will look at the principles I am practicing today.

“We must alter our lives in order to alter our hearts, for it is impossible to live one way and pray another.” ~ William Law

END OF QUOTE—————————————

Sometimes, ritualized words become mental wallpaper. “Let there be no gossip or criticism of one another.” Is it possible that these words or more than protective role playing to make the meetings a safe place, a v training ground of vulnerability? Could this actually be a spiritual invitation? A compass of sorts. Can the connective words in this circle of overcomers be transformed into daily living? I indeed have difficulty with those who hinder my momentum while I seek to become one with my vehicle’s internal combustion engine. The machine mind pushes me forward. The oracle that is sensitive to the spiritual quest is tucked away. Death becomes my god. The merciless clock becomes an angelic enforcer of “productive” isolation.

The truth is, these aren’t random acts of frustration—they’re patterns of isolation disguised as righteousness. They’re me choosing indignation over serenity. They’re me handing the steering wheel over to habit instead of principle. I say I want recovery. But how do I expect to receive the promises if I only practice the program when it’s easy—inside a meeting room, for a single protected hour? This work isn’t about performance; it’s about transformation. And transformation requires more than nodding along when the readings are comforting. It requires gut-level honesty when my defects show up at 45 mph with the blinker still on.

I can pause and intelligently ask: Am I willing to grow past the hour-long serenity? Can I bring the same grace I show a trembling newcomer into my interactions with strangers who don’t follow “my rules”? My mind will think what it thinks—but I have agency over what I dwell on, what I feed, and what I choose to let go.

I wish to release my apish grunts. I pause. I look at my thoughts. I ask if they’re rooted in love or in fear, in connection or in control. And if they’re not the thoughts I want to live by, I don’t have to follow them down the road.

Recovery is available in every lane—if I’m willing to yield to it.

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Endigar 968

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on June 3, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Jul 26:

I am learning to identify illusions that make my life unmanageable. For example, I wanted to stop controlling people and situations, but the harder I tried, the more I felt as if I were knocking my head against a wall. Then someone mentioned that I couldn’t give up something I didn’t have. Perhaps I could try giving up the illusion of control. Once I saw that my attempts to exercise power were based on illusions, it was easier to let go and let God.

Another illusion is that I have a big hole inside and I must fill it with something from outside myself. Compulsively shopping, obsessing about relationships, trying to fix everyone else’s problems – these are some of the ways I’ve tried to fill this hole. Yet the problem is spiritual emptiness and must be filled from within. It wasn’t until I saw through the illusion that I was deficient and needed to look outside myself for wholeness, that I began to heal.


Today’s Reminder

Today, if I hear myself thinking that I am not good enough or that I need something outside myself to make me whole, I’ll know that I am listening to illusions. Today I can call an Al-Anon friend and come back to reality.

“. . . human beings, by changing the inner attitudes of their minds, can change the outer aspects of their lives.” ~ William James

END OF QUOTE—————————————

My work in recovery is not just a story of struggle—but a series of quiet turning points, points where I take a breath between battles. I take time to recognize the significance of genuine expression. I realized that any of us, myself especially, when subjected to prolonged periods of internal abuse, like the alcoholic written about in The Doctor’s Opinion, soon find that they “cannot after a time differentiate the true from the false.”

There’s a sacred power in beginning to name illusions. In early recovery, the lines between illusion and reality often blur, and the pain feels real enough to confuse the two. That’s why this moment—this realization—is profound: I couldn’t give up control because I never truly had it. That kind of truth doesn’t just land in the mind—it softens the fists we’ve kept clenched for years.

And then there’s the hole—the aching, familiar void we all try to outrun or out-buy or out-fix. I know that urge, to chase wholeness in others, in things, in saving or seducing or pleasing. But this realization reminds me that spiritual emptiness is not a flaw—it’s a calling. A whisper that we are ready to return to ourselves. Not to fill the hole with something else, but to meet the space within with light, attention, and care.

When I hear the old voices whisper: You’re not enough. You need more. Fix it fast.—I will pause. I will know this is illusion speaking. And I will return to what is real: connection. Friendship. God. And the quiet truth that I am already whole, even as I heal.

This is not the end of the work. But it is the end of the lie.

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Endigar 967 ~ From the Disease to the Blade of Grass

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , on June 2, 2025 by endigar

My disease made me a fortress. My recovery made me a field.

The Life of My Disease vs. The Life of Recovery

1. From Isolated Hyper-Awareness to Collective Awareness

In the disease:
I was hyper-aware of everything—especially myself. How I looked, how I was perceived, what I was owed, who wronged me. I lived in my own head like a sniper in a tower. Always scanning. Always separate. I didn’t want connection—I wanted control.
In recovery:
I am just one of many. I can come down from the tower. I find healing in being part of something larger. When I share honestly and listen openly, I become we, not just I. I learn that my pain is not unique—and neither is my hope.

“You are no longer alone.” And thank God for that.

2. From Parasitically Opportunistic to Humble and Replaceable

In the disease:
I used people. I watched for weaknesses. I took what I could and twisted what I had to. Everything and everyone was a means to an end. Even when I showed up, it was often to get something—attention, pity, money, forgiveness I hadn’t earned.
In recovery:
I learn to give without needing return. I’m not here to feed off the group—I’m here to nourish it. Like a blade of grass, I don’t demand applause. I serve because I’m grateful. If I disappear tomorrow, the grass keeps growing. That’s not sad—that’s spiritual.

“Self-seeking will slip away.” And it does, if I stay willing.

3. From Dominance of Personality to Principles Before Personalities

In the disease:
I was the center of the universe. Loud or quiet, charming or angry—it was all about me. My story. My pain. My rules. Even when I hated myself, I needed to be the star.
In recovery:
I learn to step back. Principles lead, not personalities. I don’t need to be right to be okay. I don’t need to be liked to belong. The message is stronger than the messenger. I follow spiritual laws now—not my moods, not my ego.

“We are not a glum lot,” but we are not a cult of personality either.

4. From Rigid Embrace of the System to Teachable Simplicity

In the disease:
I clung to systems that justified my brokenness—mental labels, excuses, patterns, even self-pity. I would rather be right in dysfunction than wrong and changing. I was rigid. I called it identity, but it was really fear.
In recovery:
I become teachable. Like grass bending in the wind, I can change without breaking. I listen. I try new ways. I stop pretending I know what’s best. I start asking what’s true.
It’s not weakness—it’s wisdom.

“Some of us tried to hold on to our old ideas, and the result was nil.” I don’t want nil anymore. I want growth.

It seems then, that recovery isn’t about becoming the strongest, smartest, or most spiritual.
It’s about becoming a blade of grass—rooted, connected, growing together.
And it starts by surrendering the lonely, hardened, parasitic life of the disease.

Am I able to choose simplicity over spectacle? Connection over control?
Can I become the field of We?

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Endigar 966

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on June 2, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Jul 25:

After years of letting people take advantage of me, I had built up quite a store of anger, resentment, and guilt by the time I found Al-Anon. So many times I wanted to bite off my tongue after saying, “Yes,” when I really wanted to say, “No.” Why did I continue to deny my own feelings just to gain someone’s approval?

As I worked the Al-Anon program, the answer became apparent: What I lacked was courage. In the Serenity Prayer I lean that courage is granted by my higher Power, so that is where I turned first. Then it was up to me to do my part. Was I willing to try to learn to say, “No,” when I meant no? Was I willing to accept that not everyone would be thrilled with this change? Was I willing to face the real me behind the people-pleasing image? Fed up with volunteering to be treated like a doormat, I squared my shoulders and answered, “Yes.”

Today’s Reminder

It is not always appropriate to reveal my every thought, especially when dealing with an active alcoholic. But do I make a conscious choice about what I say? And when it is appropriate, do I say what I mean and mean what I say? If not, why not? All I have to offer anyone is my own experience of the truth.

“There is a prince that is too great to pay for peace . . . One cannot pay the price of self-respect.” ~ Woodrow Wilson

END OF QUOTE—————————————

I know what it’s like to say “yes” when everything in me is screaming “no,” and then carry the weight of that quiet betrayal inside myself. The approval I was chasing always came at too high a price: my peace, my boundaries, my dignity.

Recovery taught me that this pattern wasn’t just about weakness—it was about survival. Somewhere along the line, I had internalized the idea that my value came from being agreeable, accommodating, small. But underneath that surface compliance, I was stockpiling rage and shame. I was afraid to be honest, because honesty might have made me look unlovable, or even worse—disposable.

When I started practicing the program, the word courage hit differently. It wasn’t a grand, dramatic thing. It was quiet. Steady. A spiritual muscle I had to learn to flex. Turning to a Higher Power helped me realize I didn’t have to conjure that courage on my own. It was something I could receive—if I was willing.

Learning to say “no” with love—not defiance, not bitterness, just clarity—has been one of the most sacred disciplines of my recovery. And letting go of the fantasy that I could please everyone freed me to meet the real version of myself. Not the one polished up for applause, but the one who breathes deeply, speaks truth, and trusts that that’s enough.

Today, I ask myself—not out of judgment, but out of care—Why am I saying this? Who is it serving? Am I betraying myself to stay in someone else’s good graces? And I remember: the truth I’ve lived through, the healing I’ve done, the boundary I draw—that’s all I have to give. That is my offering. And it’s enough.

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Endigar 965 ~ A Simple Gesture

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , on May 31, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Jul 24:

Every day I pray for knowledge of God’s will and the power to carry it out (Step Eleven). Then I try to trust that my prayer has been heard and will be answered. In others words, I trust that at some point in my day I will do God’s will.

To me, doing God’s will doesn’t mean that I perform heroic acts on a daily basis; it means that, at any given time smelling a rose or emptying waste baskets or washing the car may be exactly what is needed.

I have a Higher Power that loves me as I am. When I learn to love myself as my Higher Power loves me, I believe I am doing God’s will.

Today’s Reminder

What loving action can I take today? Maybe I will make some time for nothing more practical than simple pleasure – a movie, a good book, or a breath of fresh air. Or perhaps I’ll deal with paper work that I’ve been avoiding. I could make a commitment to eat well and get the rest I need, or make amends for something that’s been on my mind. A simple gesture can be the beginning of a lifelong habit of self-love.

“God alone knows the secret plan of things he will do for the world using my hand.” ~ Toyohiko Kagawa

END OF QUOTE—————————————

In my experience, doing God’s will isn’t usually about grand gestures or public acts of virtue. It’s in the small, often invisible spaces—where no applause is expected and none is needed. That’s where my recovery lives, too. In the quiet choices. In the willingness to pause.

When I pray for knowledge of God’s will and the power to carry it out, I’m not asking for a cosmic assignment. I’m asking for alignment. I’m asking for presence. And most days, that presence reveals itself in simple ways: in the way I treat my body, in the way I speak to myself, in the grace I offer others when they cross my path.

It’s powerful to remember that changing kitty litter or mopping the floor can be enough. These are not distractions from a spiritual life—they are the spiritual life, when I let them be. I remember that line from the Karate Kid so many years ago; “Wax on, wax off.” It seems appropriate here.

Loving myself as my Higher Power loves me—that’s a lifelong re-learning. Some days it looks like resting. Some days it looks like keeping a small promise. Some days, it looks like forgiving myself for not being more productive.

Today, I can take a loving action. It doesn’t have to change the world. It just needs to come from a place that honors my dignity, my healing, my connection to something greater.

Maybe I’ll choose to rest. Maybe I’ll face something I’ve been avoiding. Either way, I’ll know: I am walking in the will of a loving God—not because I’m accomplishing something, but because I’m showing up with an open heart.

Isn’t that more than enough?

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Endigar 964 ~ Comic Relief

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on May 30, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Jul 23:

A miraculous change has come about because of my commitment to the Al-Anon program: I have discovered that I have sense of humor. When I came to these rooms, I never cracked a smile and resented anyone who did. I couldn’t understand all the laughter during meetings; I didn’t hear anything funny! Life was tragic and serious.

Recently, I was sharing about a series of events that I had found extremely difficult. It had been one of those weeks in which everything seemed to go wrong. The odd part was that now that it was over, I found my traumatic tale incredibly funny, and so did most of the others at the meeting.

More than any other change I have observed in myself, I find this the most glorious. It tells me that I see myself and my life in a more realistic way. I am no longer a victim, full of self-pity and bent on control of every aspect of my life. Today I can take myself and my circumstances more lightly. I can even allow joy and laughter to be a part of a difficult experience.

Today’s Reminder

If I take a step back and look at this day as if I were watching a movie, I am sure to find at least a moment where I can enjoy some comic relief.

“You grow up the day you have the first real laugh – at yourself.” ~ Ethel Barrymore

END OF QUOTE—————————————

When I first came into the rooms, I had a private equation — a sort of socio-mathematic formula etched into my worldview:
Laughter = frivolous stupidity.
Darkness + tragedy = courageous intelligence.

I had built an identity around this formula. It made sense of the pain I carried and justified the heavy way I moved through life. In that worldview, those who laughed too easily were shallow, blind to the depth and cruelty of the world. People who found joy in the mundane? Fools. I believed most people preferred stupid lives lived simply — and so my mask adjusted accordingly. Outwardly social, inwardly superior, I wore cynicism like armor. Humor had no place in my seriousness.

When I entered recovery, I brought that formula with me like a rotten offering — clutching it as if it were truth. I sat in meetings and watched people laugh, and I resented them. Didn’t they understand the depth of what was happening here? Didn’t they know the cost of pain?

But over time, through the gentle persistence of the program, the formula began to dissolve. I listened. I spoke. I stayed. And in those rooms, something astonishing happened: I laughed. Not just once — but freely. Uncontrollably. I laughed at myself. I laughed with others. I laughed at stories that, a year earlier, I would have hoarded as evidence of life’s unfairness. And I wasn’t ashamed.

It felt like a crack in the foundation — in the best way. Because through that laughter, I realized I was no longer a victim of my pain, nor the hero of my suffering. I had started to heal.

When I can laugh at my week, at the chaos, at my own old reactions, it means I’ve stepped out of the role I thought I had to play. I’m not trapped in the narrative. I have perspective now. What used to be a dramatic monologue is now part of a much broader story — and yes, there’s comic relief.

This change in me — this reclaiming of humor — feels like one of the most sacred milestones of my recovery. It’s not frivolous. It’s not stupid. It’s freedom. It means I see life more clearly. That I take myself more lightly. That I can let go of the need to control everything. And that joy is no longer the enemy of depth — it’s the evidence that I’ve survived it.

So today, when life feels heavy, I try to step back and see the day like a film. Not to escape it, but to witness it. And if I look closely, there’s almost always a scene I can laugh at. That’s not a betrayal of the pain — it’s a celebration of the fact that I’m still here, and I’m no longer ruled by it.

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Endigar 963

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on May 29, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Jul 22:

Al-Anon’s Suggested Closing says that “though you may not like all of us, you’ll love us in a very special way – the same way we already love you.” In other words, every Al-Anon meeting can be an opportunity to practice placing principles above personalities. Most of us are highly aware of the personalities of people around us. Instead of getting lost in petty likes and dislikes, it is important to remember why we come to meetings. We all need each other in order to recover.

I don’t have to like everybody, but I want to look deeper to find the sprit that we share in common. Perhaps I can find peace with each person by reminding myself of those things that draw us together – a common interest, a common belief, a common goal. I will then have a resource for strength rather than a target for negative thinking. I will have placed principles about personalities.

Today’s Reminder

I will keep an open mind toward each person I encounter today. If I am ready to learn, anyone can be my teacher.

“The open door to helpful answers is communication based on love. Such communication depends on awareness of and respect for each other’s well-being and willingness to accept in another what may not measure up to our own standards and expectations.” ~ The Dilemma of the Alcoholic Marriage

END OF QUOTE—————————————

How easy it is for my mind to fixate on personalities—on judgments, reactions, stories I tell myself about others. Especially in recovery, where emotions can run high and vulnerability is the norm, it’s tempting to let certain voices, faces, or tones distract me from why I show up. But the principles of the Twelve Steps offer me a different path—a reminder that I don’t have to like everyone, but I can still choose to love them in that deeper, spiritual sense. The same way I hope to be loved when I’m not at my best.

Love in these recovery rooms isn’t sentimental or selective. It’s a principle. It’s a practice. And it’s one I can lean on when my instincts pull me toward criticism or distance. When I shift from judging to seeking connection, everything changes. When I look for the spirit in others—not the surface—I find something in common: pain, hope, courage, a willingness to heal. And when I choose to see that, I’m not just giving someone else grace. I’m giving myself peace. I’m reminding myself that I’m not alone. That we all came here for healing, and we need each other to find it.

Even the ones I struggle with can become teachers, if I let them. That’s humbling. And liberating. I’ll try to keep the door open. I’ll try to place principles above personalities—not because it’s easy, but because it frees me. It roots me in love instead of fear. And that’s where I want to live.

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