Daily Reprieve

So, the Higher Power must be more than a concept.  There has to be a very real interaction with a very real entity of some form that is connected to and at least influences all power and knowledge, and that has an obsession for me that would pass for love.  Without those characteristics, the Higher Power becomes irrelevant.  If I must pick and chose when the Higher Power can be trusted and where I have to step in and make up for His inadequacies, then the Higher Power becomes merely a concept that I give lip service to.  And something my disease will fashion to accomodate a relapse.  He truly is everything or nothing.

If this is too much for you to swallow, as it often is for me, it is quite workable to go at this piecemeal, to test the waters and accumulate your own undeniable experiences.  I have a few that I have to remind myself of.

As far as this blog goes, I will converse with anyone who comments.  But unless I am just overwhelmed with an epiphany, I will not continue writing here.  I will not initiate it.  You the reader, or Gomu Himself will motivate any further contributions on my part. 

Thank-you for the opportunity to share.

After I first came into recovery there was an overshadowing thought that haunted me my 2nd year clean…Will there be enough time to do what I want to do? There is so much left unsaid and undone, how will I accomplish it?
The answer came simply from a friend who reminded me that at some point I will not get a full 24 hours. I will be 42 in July and felt as if time was “running out”. It’s odd, before I got to recovery life seemed to take forever to arrive at that point and now it’s as if time has been speeded up.
I came to the understanding that 12 Step Programs prepare me to face the inevitable with dignity and a sense of self-worth. That the miserable existence I called life before really wasn’t living at all. That I have the full opportunity to live my life they way I was intended to from the very start, with the ability to be a human being.
My approach to a Higher Power is a bit more simplistic. I find it would be arrogant on my part to believe that I am one of 6 billion people living on a rock hurtling through space at 90,000 mph and this is it.
I believe the power we seek comes from both within and from others. I have witnessed far too many things both while in active addiction and while in recovery to believe in coincidences and luck.
I feel that my life has a sense of purpose and I may never know all of the answers to the questions I want to ask, but I have a faith today that what I need to know versus what I want to know is revealed when the time is right.
Take Care….Bob D.

———————————————-

1.  The nature of self-expression: 

After I first came into recovery there was an overshadowing thought that haunted me my 2nd year clean…Will there be enough time to do what I want to do? There is so much left unsaid and undone, how will I accomplish it?
The answer came simply from a friend who reminded me that at some point I will not get a full 24 hours. I will be 42 in July and felt as if time was “running out”. It’s odd, before I got to recovery life seemed to take forever to arrive at that point and now it’s as if time has been speeded up.
I came to the understanding that 12 Step Programs prepare me to face the inevitable with dignity and a sense of self-worth. That the miserable existence I called life before really wasn’t living at all. That I have the full opportunity to live my life they way I was intended to from the very start, with the ability to be a human being.

2.  The nature of spiritual empowerment:

My approach to a Higher Power is a bit more simplistic. I find it would be arrogant on my part to believe that I am one of 6 billion people living on a rock hurtling through space at 90,000 mph and this is it.
I believe the power we seek comes from both within and from others. I have witnessed far too many things both while in active addiction and while in recovery to believe in coincidences and luck.
I feel that my life has a sense of purpose and I may never know all of the answers to the questions I want to ask, but I have a faith today that what I need to know versus what I want to know is revealed when the time is right.

Bob D, thank-you for your response.  I am going to try some active listening to restate what I think you are saying here.  Please feel free to correct me if I am wrong.

1.  In your 2nd year clean, you were haunted by the reality of the limited time of your mortality coupled with the realization that you had much left that was unsaid and undone.  Within you, there was something that identified the unsaid and undone of your life now that you had significant time clean and sober.  The spectre of it not being accomplished was a source of fear for you.   A reality that haunted you.

But you found an answer through a friend, one that resonated with you, provided you with comfort.  The friend pointed to one reality – that at some point, you will not get a full 24 hours.  In the context of recovery, we recognize that all we have is the 24 hours before us.  But this friend said that there will come a time when we will not even be given that in full measure.  There are elements of our life that are beyond our ability to plan.  We cannot even rely on a 24 hour plan to accomplish things.   He was inviting you to an acceptance of things you cannot control, specifically, time.

You continue by restating the reality of the limited time of your mortality inspired by the quickly approaching 42nd birthday in July.  But you put the phrase RUNNING OUT in quotations.  It seems you are saying that the feeling of running out of time was not a real concept.  You point to the oddity that before recovery, time appeared to move unbearably slow to arrive at some unknown destination (I do not know how to translate –at that point, for I do not know what point you are referring to- and it may be inconsequential to your primary exploration), but now it has speeded up.  Since we assume that time is a constant, that our coming into recovery did not actually accelerate time around us, this must be an illusion stemming from within you.  I think you are suggesting that this illusion is manufactured by the peculiar mental twist of our disease.  That the tendency of this disease to use our minds to manufacture misery in order to accomodate the return to an alcoholic or drug induced state of oblivion is the actual author of the feeling of running out of time.

You walked through a process that brought you to a certain comfort or reliance on the 12 step program.  The first thing this process did for you is to help you realize that no matter when the inevitable day of your death arrives, you would be able to face it with dignity and a sense of self-worth because of your devotion to this program of recovery. Then you looked back at what you had been able to achieve under the influence of drugs or alcohol, and realized that you could not even say that you were living life at all during that time.  You realized that when you did what was natural for you, you could not live at all, and that without the intervention of the program misery was a way of life for you.  With death faced, and the old way of living discarded, you looked at what you had under the direction of the 12 step program in a new light.   Your discomfort came not from the limits of time and resource, but the reality that for the first time you have the opportunity to live your life the way it was intended from the very start.   The ability to just BE who you were supposed to be was suddenly a possibility and the newness of this reality was what you are adjusting to. 

2.  Your approach to the Higher Power is more simplistic than…?   You value the simplicity of your approach to the Higher Power.  Because when you said that the answer came from your friend, you said it came simply.  If I am correct, you believe that simplicity is an indication of inspiration from the Higher Power. 

The phrase “on my part” identifies this as a personal assertion.  If you were to believe the following, it would be the voice of your arrogance:  I am one of 6 billion people living on a rock hurtling through space at 90,000 mph and this is it.  You are one of 6 billion people makes you small, maybe insignificant.  You are living on a rock, not a planet, hurtling through space,  not in a life-sustaining orbit,  at 90,000 mph.  Since both of those things are facts, but are expressed in a way that strips it of wonder, they could be considered an attempt to diminish yourself and your place in the universe.   It is the assertion that you and your environ are insignificant that is the foundation of this arrogance.  Now merge that expression with the opinion that “this is it,” and the statement of arrogance is complete.  I find this paradoxical because arrogance is defined as the offensive display of superiority or self-importance; overbearing pride.  If I am correct, the resolution of this paradox comes when you observe the universe and claim the ability and right to diminish its workings, and declare yourself and those around you as ultimately insignificant. 

You believe that the spiritual empowerment we all seek is available within us, and through our connections with other people.  You have witnessed things that had nothing to do with you being in recovery or being in addiction that you cannot dismiss as luck or coincidence.  These were events outside of you.  You see them as evidence of the existence of a Higher Power.  

What you have gained from your connection with the Higher Power is a sense of purpose.  This is something that you truly feel. 

What you give in the relationship is a trusting acceptance, a faith, a knowing, that those questions that are left unanswered don’t need to be answered until the time is right. 

*****************

Bob, thank-you again.  I would like to ask you a few questions if life is not keeping you too busy.

1.  When you talked of having things unsaid and undone in the beginning of your missive, could you give some examples?  Have you found a new expression for them or have they been discarded as being of no value in your current life?  Are they apart of what gives you a sense of dignity and self-worth?  If not, what is it that feeds those qualities in you?

2.  You spoke of being able to live your life the way you were intended to from the very start.  Do you specifically know how your were intended to live it?  How did you gain this insight?  Intended by your Higher Power, or by you?

3.  You alluded to events that you do not count as luck or coincidence, and serve as evidence for your spiritual life.  Would you mind sharing some of them?  I will treat them with care, and not attack that which you view as sacred.  I truly am interested. 

4.  What feeds this sense of purpose that you speak of?

Why do I struggle so with living?  Two things seem to come to the forefront for me, at least tonight. 

1.  The nature of spiritual empowerment.  This is the centerpiece of the recovery program.  When I was a traditional Christian, the premise of spiritual empowerment for me was the reality of revelation through the scriptures, and the testimony of those who seek direct contact with God based on the authority of Jesus Christ.  Now that I am in recovery, the Agnostos Theos, the Higher Power, is a construct that grows through relationship.  But I am left asking if a deity concept built around my needs for empowerment is anything more than a concept.  The demands of life are larger than I am.  And death mocks my every step forward.  I need a Higher Power who is larger than every element of both life and death.  Who is larger than all my fears.  Am I my own god?  Do my needs and desires for empowerment cause me to forge a deity to support my efforts?  Or is there a deity that created me with needs that would force me to find it?  And if so, why the game of hide and seek?  Is this life a supernatural holographic training scenario?  For me, the pursuit of a deity must provide some hope of knowing, and thus the disciplines of prayer and meditation seeking intuitive guidance make sense.  But I find them ultimately inadequate.   I too often feel the despair of spiritual impotence.

2.  The nature of self-expression.  My life is filled with many passions and pursuits that compete with one another.  In talking with my slave this evening, she was lamenting the part-time expression of who we are, and prior to her contact, I was thrashing about in my own soul over this same issue.  How can I synthesize my life into a perfect whole that allows me to unfold completely as a person?  When I was a traditional Christian, mortification of the flesh, self-sacrifice, and absolute surrender to Jehovah God precluded this concern.  If I got any of my heart’s desires it was because God decided it was safe for me, was of value, fulfilled His ultimate will.  I spent most of my life then in a frustrated suppression of who I am.  I tried to be a vessel for the expression of Jesus.  My misery found solace in my personal life of martyrdom.  Someday, I would be rewarded for a life well lived.  All the things that should exist or that I desired of here and now were safely tucked away in the great here-after.  I have read that religion is the opiate of the masses.  I kept myself well intoxicated with it.  But now that I have given myself permission to be free, what do I do?  And how do I do it?  Is there a way to synchronize all my internal passions into one great symphony of self-expression?  On November 20th, I turn 49 years old.  That is seven squared, or seven sevens completed.  In my reading of the Old Testament, there was something called the year of Jubilee, the 50th year.  If I remember correctly, that was a time of rebirth, when all debts were cancelled and everyone started over.  I feel like I am approaching both an ending and a beginning.  And I do not know how to both mourn or celebrate to usher forth this transition.

On a somber note:  My lungs have always been my bane.  I experience repeated cases of pneumonia growing up that would keep me out of school.  It always affected my athletic participation because I never had the wind for a lot of running.  This has been a constant source of humiliation in my military service, and to this day, may keep me from getting retirement.  My next and possibly final PT Test is on the 5th of December.  When I sleep on my left side, my bronchial tube hurts.  It often hurts slightly to breath deeply.  I am always congested to some degree.  I cannot remember a time when I could breath clearly through both nostrils.  When I work out, I spend the next few hours coughing and in pain.  And I probably work in one of the last places in America where there is smoking in the building.  My mother died of pulmonary fibrosis.  There is some indication that it is genetically transferred.  It really cannot be diagnosed in its early stages, so I’ve heard.  Doctors have done the MRI’s and nothing has been found.  But I feel it.

The gist of what I am saying is that I am facing the reality of the downward drift into the other side.  We are all facing death, I just have a constant reminder with every breath I take.  I want to live the second half of my life better than the first.  And I want to leave behind a legacy of making it easier for others to do the same. 

THIS IS MY REQUEST FROM ANYONE READING THIS:  Consider the nature of spiritual empowerment and self-expression.  And tell me what you do, how you face it all.  I will be very respectful and grateful for your contribution.  I don’t care how religious or loony it may come off.  I may ask questions, but they are real questions, not taunts.  I may restate what I think you are saying, but I will quote you verbatim.  I will not alter your words.  I will do my best not to insult you.  If I do, I will be quick to apologize.  I am open to anything right now.  Please talk to me.

My eyes are set in my head so that I can never see my own face.  That part of my body that I use so much to communicate who I am, I rarely see.  So when pictures and videos allow me to see me from the outside, I am often surprised.  I judge harshly and am rarely pleased. 

Mirrors have been used for a long time.  Our self-awareness as a species makes it so vital to us to catch a glimpse of our own face.  Even there, the image is inverted.  It never perfectly reveals to us that intimate element of our being that everyone else can so casually inspect. 

So I depend on the secondary interpretation of their reaction to what they see when they truly look at me.  I hunger to know the mystery of who I am through their eyes.  What I see when I look at this most ancient of human mirrors, the eyes of those who care to look my way, is sometimes pleasing, satisfying, but most of the time it is disturbing and disappointing.

I did not choose this face or body.  Some hidden power in an intimate dance of chaos and order deposited me here.  The Creator God?  The Web of the Universe?  A genetic crap shoot?  I don’t know. 

I am tired of what I see in their eyes.  I understand the program to say that I am as powerless over my shortcomings as I am over alcohol.  Being able to connect and make good use of the eyes of other sufferers is where I found relief from alcohol. 

What do I say to apologize, not to God, but to those out there who do love him, who trust deeply in this Being of old.  I guess that the program teaches that it is easy enough to apologize, but it is the ability to make amends that truly helps.  In this context, is that possible? 

Let me say this.  I do not hate God.  I spoke from the pain in my heart, not the convictions of my life.  I am growing in my relationship to the Higher Power.  How many intimate relationships have you had that have not excited your passions, from the highs of ecstasy to the baptisms in absolute despair.  

I do not know what to say to you, my beloved sister, about all this.  I love you.  I am much less certain about the identity and manifestation of God, while being more certain of a very real presence that loves me in spite of my inability to know the right words to say. 

[http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Unknown_God]

In addition to the twelve main gods and the innumerable lesser deities, ancient Greeks worshiped a deity they called Agnostos Theos, that is: the Unknown god. In Athens, there was a temple specifically dedicated to that god and very often Athenians would swear “in the name of the Unknown god”  Apollodorus, Philostratus and Pausanias wrote about the Unknown god as well.  The Unknown god was not so much a specific deity, but a placeholder, for whatever god or gods actually existed but whose name and nature were not revealed to the Athenians or the Hellenized world at large.

There is a chapter written in the Big Book, Alcoholics Anonymous, called “We Agnostics.”  Why was it not entitled We Christians, We Jews, We Muslims, … We Believers.  No, from my perspective, and my understanding of the spiritual path offered in recovery, for me, there is only one concept of deity that has the hope of not pitting man against his brother or sister.  Agnostos Theos.  Gomu – God of my understanding.

So I turn to the Unknown God, walk the path where it is alright not to know the right answer, where moving forward and unfolding as a person makes me the right answer.  Perfection connected through flaws.

I would like very much to have something better to say than the previous entry.  I really have nothing to complain about, every reason to be thankful.  I am tired.  My apologies to the Higher Power.

I was doing alright at the beginning of this day.  Then I went to a meeting.  I managed to talk, to “share.”  I wanted to connect.  But I left feeling more distant.  Something came out in this vain attempt.  Seven days ago, I went to an H and I meeting at Bradford.  I got to lead the topic.  I did it.  And it was definitely some rambling regurgitation.  I really hate hearing me talk for the most part. 

The room was packed with desperate souls.  After I set the ball to rolling, I noticed that a lady had been looking at me.  I thought she was smiling, or maybe it was a grimace.  Then she introduced herself to the group and stood up, “I have to stand because I am so short.”  Bullshit.  Then she began to testify about her faith in Jesus and how she had been married for 3900 years and how wonderful and powerful the love of her god was.  Her jaw was fixed.  She was testifying, defending her faith.  I was her satan.  I had told the blind men and elephant story.  I had mentioned my own problems with religion, and my difficulty in swallowing Dr. Bob’s writing. 

After she took her stand, she acted as if she was coughing, and left the meeting.

I had played it down, and didn’t realize that this was still bothering me.  I thought that I had come so far in developing tolerance.  Is it because I wear dark clothing or maybe I just look dangerous?  I don’t know. 

Sometimes I just absolutely hate god.  I hate the concept of him, the social psychosis that some refer to as faith.  I hate it all.  So burn me at the stake.  Please.  Quit pretending that you give a damn about me and just do what it is in your nature to do.  Wipe me out.  Humiliate and destroy your critics.  Perform the genocide necessary to build a beloved promised land of blithering idiots.  Flood the earth.  Consume another Sodom.  Kill the Canaanites, men, women, and children.  And build an eternal hell for the majority of the people you created.

And then call me satan. 

How do I overcome this resentment for god and religion?  Why am I so angry?

I will hate myself in the morning for this dribble.  It is where I have landed tonight.  10th Step.  If I am disturbed it’s because I am a pile of shit, not the other person. 

Time for bed.

I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

I am sitting in a meeting, and I hear another version of the “the boy whistling in the dark,”  another sally of false confidence in the face of past failures.  Someone who has relapsed speaks up and says that they understand that they should have been working this program harder.  The week before he was talking about a new sponsee he had just picked up, and how the Higher Power had made it possible, and the magic of self-sacrifice, and the triumph of prayer over insecurity.  He was saying all the right things then.  He struggled to just keep saying them now.  I touched him on the shoulder after the meeting and said, “glad you’re back.”  But he was in too much of a controlled panic, a mode of forced socialization, to even acknowledge my attempt to connect.  It appears to me that he is on the edge and he is trying to say the right things, trying to assure himself that he is actually back among the living.  But I see the fear in his eyes.  I have felt this before.  And unless he finds something of more substance, the right words will be read over the corpse of his tragic end.  I turned away and went home.

Was the meeting helpful to me or him?  I don’t know.  For me, it definitely lacked genuineness, and I could not put my finger on it.  Everyone was saying the right things, speaking highly of spirituality and encouraging desperate ones to do the work, follow the clear lead of the twelve steps.  They talked about how they came into recovery as selfish bastards and now their greatest joy in life is in serving others.  It saves them when nothing else will.  It was perfectly delivered to fidgeting legs, applauded by yawns of disdain.

If I am disturbed, there is something wrong within me.  And I have had something wrong with me in my response to helping others.  I am experiencing the inverse of what is supposed to be happening.  Helping other is depressing me.  If I do well sharing at a meeting and everyone is patting me on the back, or if I overcome my personal aversion to the telephone and give myself to connect with a co-sufferer of this disease, I spend the next three days recovering.  I drop into a pit of minor self-loathing.  I hunger for something filthy to wash away the sticky religious molasses goo of becoming good and learning to enjoy martyrdom.  I fear that this way of thinking makes me radioactive to new-comers, to those who are struggling.  Maybe even you, my reader.  But if I stay isolated, I will surrender to a tragic end.  So I share, not to help you, but to help me.  And there lies my freedom.  And maybe yours.

Trinity said to Neo in the Matrix, “you’ve been down that road before. You know exactly where it ends.”

I have spent the last four decades of my life trying to be good and say the right things.  The great failure of my life was that I was so successful building an image of what I should become, according religious doctrines and family pride and personal fear of being vulnerable to ridicule.  That image took on a life of its own, and become my chief critic and task master.  And I was filled with secret hurt and resentment because I believed that my Higher Power was disinterested in me, and was only near me when I was near that damn image.  He loved it more than me, maybe even instead of me.  I performed faith gymnastics to appease Him.  Yet I was filled with a lust that I sought to strangle out of me, and promised the Lord God a life of celibacy.  That is what the image would do.  “They have made themselves eunuchs for the kingdom of God.”  “If you even think it, you have already done it.”  “If your hand or eye offends you, cut it off.  Better to enter the kingdom of God maimed then to enter hell with your body whole.”  “I wish you were hot or cold, but because you are lukewarm I will spew you out of my mouth.”  “I wish you all were as strong as I am, but because of your weakness, God has allowed you to marry.” 

That image I built was always compassionate, self-sacrificing, disciplined, devoted to the faith, and never had any thoughts of self.  That image loves God over everything.  But it was only an image.  It helped make me powerless and unmanageable, not useful. 

A chaos storm blew into my life in 2003 and I could not understand why God had allowed it.  As it began to pass over, I saw that the major casualty was that icon of perfection.  And you know what, I don’t think that my Higher Power ever really liked it anyway.  I don’t think Gomu (God of my understanding) liked the distance between us.  I was trapped by my success at being good.  I am extremely grateful for the freedom I gained through that failure.  I don’t want to enter the rooms to reconstruct another image, another task-master. 

Today I don’t have everything figured out.  The answers don’t vanquish every question.  They are just hints to push me forward as I  seek connection with the Unknown God.  And We, yes dammit, WE, that Mysterious Entity that the voice of religion would inadvertently declare as the universe’s greatest failure for creating the likes of me, We walk a path where I am alright with Not Knowing.  My Higher Power is not trying to make me a better person.  What I am is what I am supposed to be.  I beleive he desires the perfection of my freedom. 

I help others because the unfolding of your personal mythology strengthens mine.  The program utilizes my self-preservation.  It is not useful for me to hate myself.  I am lustful, but today, my lust is sacred.  Its expression is fulfilling.  Not damming. 

I am still up and down, second-guessing at times, powerfully confident at others.  But I am recovering from years of a life lived under self-condemnation.  I am not a good guy.  I am a free man.  I am more useful to you, and you are more valuable to me.  I think one of the side effects of no longer harshly judging myself, is that you are no longer a threat to me.  I don’t fear that your life will trip me up and cause me to miss the mark.  You are no longer a potential carrier of my destruction.  I don’t have to live in social quarantine because you don’t say the right things. 

If you find anything I said offensive, understand that was not my intent.  But I am not your Higher Power, your sponsor, your anything.   I am just me, and I hope something I said here is useful.  If not, thank-you for reading anyway.  It was useful for me.  It helped me understand an obstacle I was facing in my own participation in the recovery process.  And I love living in spiritual freedom and empowerment. 

“The fairest thing we can experience is the mysterious.  It is the fundamental emotion which stands at the cradle of art and science.  He who knows it not, or can no longer wonder, no longer feel amazement, is as good as dead, a snuffed-out candle.” ~ Albert Einstein.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I can see magic in the mundane, and dance like a child inside knowing that I have a very real place in the unfolding drama of the universe. When I first arrived at my apartment, there was a toad that would come to my front door in the evenings. Frogs are symbolic of healing spirits to me, and boy did I need some healing. I actually began to talk with the frog, to recognize him, to say hello. I had the rather odd feeling that we were giving significance to one another. Several times he would come right up to me and stand between my legs, as if the child of earthly elements trusted me. They quit coming around, shortly after the apartment began spraying to ward off an invasion of ants. Invading ants have been symbolic of the alcoholic – addictive disease for me. Subtle, cunning, baffling and powerful in persistance.

Not too long ago I was lamenting the empty concrete outside my front door in the evenings. I was in need of healing once again. I opened my front door and there was a tree frog sticking to my door frame, looking at me. Looking right into my face. I could not help but stop and welcome him. Then I saw a perfect web in the corner with a medium spider, beautiful…

“can see Beauty even when it is not pretty”

When is beauty not pretty?  Paradoxical statements demand a deeper thought.  They act as a red light in the busy traffic of my mind. 

So what is this hidden beauty?  Is it the kind that can only be recognized if you quit living life in a controlled panic.  Is it only seen when you refuse to start off the day skimming across the surface, moving by force of habit.  Thus it is seen “every day” because you see it in the moment you live in.

And seeing this hidden beauty of life is neither frivolous or insignificant, but is the source of your entire being.  In my morning meditation I can gratefully whisper to the universe, into the listening ear of a Higher Power, that is where I come from, that is what I am about.  Hidden beauty unfolding.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

This is my favorite part of the poem.  I have a few other quotes that go with this for me:

”This above all: to thine ownself be true,
 And it must follow, as the night the day,
 Thou canst not then be false to any man.”
                         -Shakespeare-Hamlet

I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge,
That myth is more potent than history,
That dreams are more powerful than facts,
That hope always triumphs over experience,
That laughter is the only cure for grief,
And I believe that love is stronger than death.

~Robert Fulghum, The Storyteller’s Creed

I love the paradoxical statement “If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.” 

I can take this thought down so many streets and alleyways.  But if I were to limit it to recovery, I would have to see that if I am to ever learn to be truthful with others, if I am to ever have anything of substance to offer, I must be true to who I am.  And that is a big part of the process, digging out the clutter of co-dependant shoulds and fearful pretense to find the best version of me.  I think most of what I would say in the company of these quotes would be distractive ramblings.  I just like to breath in the reality these words express.  Freedom.

I finally finished that 8th step today. And I picked up my 90 day.