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Endigar 999 ~ The Shadows that Taught Me

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

From Courage to Change of Aug 17:

Some of us believe that most defects of character are merely traits that we no longer need. Many of us develop clever methods of surviving in an alcoholic situation, such as denial or secrecy. But once we have the support of the Al-Anon program, we may find that our old methods do more harm than good. What once allowed us to function in a nearly impossible situation is now an obstacle to further growth. An asset has become a deficit.

Others define defects of character as assets that have lost proportion. For example, a genuine desire to help a love one can be exaggerated into a desperate need to fix another person.

From this perspective, we aren’t facing the daunting task of rooting our every shred of the defect; we are only turning it over to our Higher Power so that it can be brought into balance or dropped because it is no longer serving our needs.

Today’s Reminder

Instead of condemning myself when I become aware of a defect of character, I can acknowledge my growth. I’ve recognized that a characteristic that once allowed me to survive is no longer necessary, or that an asset that has lost its proportion makes my life unmanageable. Instead of proving sickness, this shows a willingness to face reality and a readiness to choose health.

“Sometimes we must accept ourselves, defects and all, before those defects are removed.” ~ . . . In All Our Affairs

END OF QUOTE—————————————

I have learned that not every flaw is a failing—sometimes it’s just a survival skill that stayed too long at the party. Denial, secrecy, control, hypervigilance… these weren’t signs of weakness back then. They were the armor I forged in the fire of chaos. They helped me survive in environments where tenderness wasn’t safe, where truth could cost too much, where silence felt like the only power I had left.

But now, in this sacred space of recovery, those once-precious tools begin to rust. I don’t live in that battlefield anymore. And when I cling to those old patterns, they no longer protect me—they choke me. What once kept me afloat now keeps me from swimming.

The program gently shows me that defects of character aren’t proof I’m broken. They’re signals that I’ve outgrown something. They are assets that have swelled out of balance, like vines overtaking a garden. A desire to help becomes compulsive fixing. Loyalty becomes martyrdom. Strength becomes stubborn isolation. And instead of tearing these parts of me out by the root, I can turn them over. I can invite my Higher Power to prune and purify, not because I am unworthy, but because I am ready.

This isn’t self-condemnation. This is spiritual maturity.

When I notice a defect rising up again, I no longer need to spiral into shame. I can say, “Ah. I remember why I learned this. I honor its origin. And now, I let it go.” That is grace in action.

To accept myself with all my human contradictions—to sit in the tension between who I was and who I’m becoming—is the essence of healing. It is where mercy meets progress. And I am grateful today not just for the parts of me that shine, but for the shadows that taught me where the light belongs.

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Endigar 997

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

From Courage to Change of Aug 16:

During stressful periods it can be tempting to skip a meal, push ourselves until we are totally exhausted, and generally ignore our basic needs. In the midst of crisis, taking time out for an Al-Anon meeting, a call to a Sponsor, or a breath of fresh air may seem like a waste of all-too-precious moments. There don’t seem to be enough hours in a day, and something has to go. But are we choosing wisely?

At the very time we most need to take good care of ourselves, we are likely to do the opposite. If we decide that our needs are unimportant or that we’re too busy, we sabotage our own best interests. In times of crisis, we need to be at our best. By making an extra effort to get nutritious food, sleep, Al-Anon support, relaxation, and quiet time with our Higher Power, we strengthen ourselves physically, emotionally, and spiritually. This can make a difficult situation a little easier.

Today’s Reminder

I am the only one who can make my well-being my top priority. I owe it to myself to pay attention to the needs of my body, mind, and spirit.

“Putting ‘First Things First’ in troubled times often means finding whatever way I can to set aside my burdens, even if just for a moment, to make time for myself.” ~ . . . In All Our Affairs

END OF QUOTE—————————————

There is a strange cruelty in how I sometimes treat myself in moments of overwhelm. As if the very fire I’m walking through demands I become less human—skip meals, ignore sleep, shut down connection, abandon prayer. And yet, I’ve learned that this reflex is often the voice of my disease dressed up in urgency: “There’s no time for care. You don’t matter right now. Just keep going.”

But I do matter. Especially in crisis.
That’s when the spiritual machinery needs oiling the most.

I’ve come to see my physical body not as separate from my recovery, but as its sacred vessel. A tired mind cannot perceive truth. A hungry soul cannot offer grace. A disconnected heart cannot stay surrendered. If I am to show up with integrity—for myself, for others, for my Higher Power—I must begin by honoring my limits, not defying them.

This is where “First Things First” becomes more than a slogan. It becomes a lifeline.

Maybe it means stepping outside for one unhurried breath.
Maybe it means calling someone who knows the terrain I’m in.
Maybe it means whispering “God, help me” with trembling lips over cold coffee.

Whatever the gesture, it’s a reclaiming of dignity.
Not as luxury. As necessity.

I used to think self-care was selfish. But now I know: neglecting myself in the name of service or survival is just another form of spiritual dishonesty. I owe it to this journey, to my Higher Power, to treat the vessel as sacred. Because when the winds rise, I need a soul strong enough to sail.

So today, I will eat. I will breathe. I will ask for help.
I will not mistake exhaustion for virtue.

Because serenity is not the absence of hardship—it is the decision to not abandon myself in the middle of it.

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Endigar 996

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

From Courage to Change of Aug 15:

After living in the chaos of an alcoholic relationship, it can be hard to know the difference between a minor inconvenience and a major crisis. Al-Anon’s slogan, “How Important Is It?” helps many of us to regain some sense of proportion.

When plans fall through, when unexpected bills arrive, when I am disappointed in someone’s response, I can ask myself, “How important is it?” Most of the time I find that what I might have viewed as a disaster is really insignificant. If I try to keep my attention on this day instead of worrying about possible future consequences, I can take my disappointment or irritation at face value and refuse to dramatize it.

Because of this simple slogan, many days that I would once have seen as tragic are now filled with serenity and confidence.

Today’s Reminder

Today, if I encounter an upsetting situation, I will ask myself, “How important is it?” before I react. I may find that it is not important enough to sacrifice my serenity.

“It is almost as important to know what is not serious as to know what is.” ~ John Kenneth Galbraith

END OF QUOTE—————————————

There was a time when the smallest disturbance could spiral me into chaos. A curt reply, a delay in payment, the shifting sands of someone else’s opinion—these things once held the power to unmake my entire day. I mistook urgency for truth, reaction for responsibility.

But this question—“How important is it?”—has become a doorway. It doesn’t dismiss the feeling. It honors it with pause. It interrupts the seduction of drama and lets me breathe.

In recovery, I’ve learned that not every flicker of discomfort is a fire to put out. Some are just shadows passing over the landscape of my day. I don’t have to chase them, name them, or solve them. I can let them pass. Serenity, after all, is not the absence of trouble—it is the refusal to make trouble my home.

I’ve discovered that many of my so-called crises were born from my imagination’s worst-case theater. My mind, left unchecked, writes disaster scripts faster than any screenwriter. But today I have tools. I have choice. I have the right to protect my peace.

So when plans unravel, when someone disappoints me, when life shows up in unexpected clothes, I now ask: How important is it, really?
And often, the answer echoes gently: Not enough to lose myself over.

Today I choose presence over prediction. I release the need to control what has not yet come. I give myself back to the safety of this moment.

Let that be enough.

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Endigar 995

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on July 1, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Aug 14:

Since coming to Al-Anon, I have become aware of certain choices that I never knew I had. If I am uncomfortable about doing something, I have learned that I don’t necessarily have to do it. I can look into my heart and try to discover my true feelings before making that decision. What freedom!

Does this mean that I should never do anything unless I feel comfortable doing it? Of course not. If I waited for inspiration, my taxes might never be paid, my work might not get done, and my teeth might not bet brushed. Sometimes I have to feel the feelings of then act anyway.

I believe that is why our just for today suggests doing two things each day that I don’t want to do, just for practice. To create a balanced life, I must exercise some self-discipline. That way I can pay attention to my feeling without being tyrannized by them.

Today’s Reminder

Today I will do something that is good for me even if it feels uncomfortable.

“Self-discipline is self-caring” ~ M. Scott Peck.

END OF QUOTE—————————————

One of the most revolutionary gifts of this program has been the quiet unveiling of choice. Not the loud, performative kind the world shouts about, but the sacred kind—the one that whispers, “You don’t have to betray yourself today.” Before recovery, I didn’t even realize how many of my actions were driven by fear, people-pleasing, or shame-drenched obligation. I didn’t know that discomfort wasn’t a command. I didn’t know that I could pause.

This idea—that I can look into my heart before I move—is a kind of spiritual sovereignty I never knew I had. It doesn’t always mean I’ll choose what’s comfortable. Quite the opposite. Sometimes the act of freedom is brushing my teeth even when the depression drapes like a wet coat across my shoulders. Sometimes it’s writing a hard amends letter, or showing up to the meeting when everything in me wants to stay hidden in bed. But what’s different now is this: I can discern. I can tell the difference between the discomfort that signals harm and the discomfort that signals growth.

Feelings are sacred data—but they’re not dictators. I can feel resistance and still move forward. I can be scared and still say yes. That’s the nuance recovery gives me: I am no longer ruled by a binary of comfort or collapse. Instead, I’m developing the muscle to act from principle, not panic.

I get to honor my feelings without handing them the steering wheel. I can check in with my inner world, acknowledge what’s there, and still make adult, loving decisions that move my life forward. I don’t need to wait to feel holy or whole to take action. I just need to be honest.

This is what spiritual maturity looks like in my life: not perfection, but participation. A lived willingness to show up for both the sacred and the mundane. To listen deeply and brush my damn teeth.

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Endigar 992

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

From Courage to Change of Aug 13:

I put my Sponsor on a pedestal. I looked to her for all the answers and saw her as my mother, friend, mentor – a goddess. She appeared to be more than I could ever be; she was perfect.

One day she made a mistake and fell from the pedestal on which I had placed her. How could she be so human? How dare she display such imperfection? At first I felt frightened and abandoned. But my Sponsor’s slide from grace led me to see that I was responsible for my own Al-Anon program.

I found that the “answers” she had given me were simply her own experience, strength, and hope, along with her understanding of the Twelve Steps of recovery. I learned that the tools of the program are available to me too. And I learned that , although she was my Sponsor, we were both changing, stumbling, growing members of Al-Anon. Most importantly, I learned that setting a human being up to be perfect creates inevitable failure.

Today’s Reminder

Have I put someone on a pedestal? Am I encouraging anyone to have an exaggerated view of me? Al-Anon helps me see that while we offer mutual support, we must learn to rely on ourselves. Today I will remember that my answers lie within me.

Sponsorship is a friendship made up of two members learning from one another, . . . two people learning a new way to live – one day at a time.

END OF QUOTE—————————————

There was a time when I needed Her to be perfect.

I carved Her image from the ache of my unmet needs—my longing for a parent who would never abandon, a friend who would never misunderstand, a mentor who always knew what to say. She was everything I had ever lacked. I placed Her on a pedestal I had constructed from desperation and awe. She shone there, impossibly radiant. A goddess not of myth, but of survival.

And then She slipped.

She didn’t answer a prayer. She didn’t show up in the way I expected. She made a mistake—at least, that’s how I saw it. The pedestal cracked. And with it, something in me did too. I felt a familiar terror—abandonment’s sharp wind blowing through my soul. How could She fail me? How could the only perfect thing I had ever trusted reveal Her own humanness—or worse, my projections?

But in the echo of that fall, I heard a deeper invitation: to grow up.

My recovery began anew that day. Not in the grand illusion of divinity projected onto another, but in the ordinary grace of shared humanity. I turned to my Sponsor, not for commandments from on high, but for shared stories, real struggles, and the compass of the Steps. He did not rescue me. He walked beside me.

That walk continues. I am no longer chasing perfection—in God, in others, or in myself. I am learning that the sacred lives in imperfection. In missteps. In misunderstandings that become doorways to deeper truth.

The pedestal had to fall because it was never built to hold truth—only illusion. I don’t want to put anyone there anymore, and I don’t want to sit on one myself. I want to stand, bare and unpolished, in the messy middle with others who are doing the same.

Sponsorship isn’t sainthood. It’s shared light in a dark wood. Two wounded souls exchanging lanterns as they move forward, one trembling day at a time.

Today, I will resist the urge to exalt or diminish. I will honor the divine within by staying grounded in truth. And I will remember that no one else has the answers I must discover for myself.

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Endigar 991

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

From Courage to Change of Aug 12:

A particular incident reminds me of the sense of surrender that I feel when I truly take the Third Step and turn my will and my life over to God’s care. Some years ago my sister discovered that she had a brain tumor. Her initial diagnosis was dire – also, fortunately, inaccurate. When I heard about my sister’s choices for treatment, I felt that she should pursue certain avenues that she had ruled out. I grew increasingly impatient with her choices until I read a commentary by a person I respect, suggesting that the avenues I had been championing could do more harm than good.

That’s when I realized the limits of my own understanding. I saw that my sense of urgency stemmed not from certainty but from fear. I discovered that my only honest course of action was to turn my fear and my love over to the care of my Higher Power. I could no longer pretend to know what was best.

Today’s Reminder

I am not a rocket scientist, a philosopher, or a wizard. Even if I were all three, I would still find myself looking off the edge of my understanding into a vast unknown. As I recognize my own limitations, I am more grateful than ever for a Higher Power who is free from such restrictions.

” . . . time will change and even reverse many of your present opinions. Refrain, therefore, awhile from setting yourself up as a judge of the highest matters.” ~ Plato

END OF QUOTE—————————————

There comes a moment—sometimes gentle, sometimes shattering—when I am reminded that I do not see the whole picture. I might dress my fear in the robes of urgency, convincing myself that I must act, must decide, must fix. But beneath that frantic energy is often a frightened child, scrambling for control in a universe too vast to tame.

I once believed that if I just knew more, if I read enough, meditated enough, mapped enough of the darkness, I could avoid suffering. But the truth is, I will never outgrow my need for surrender. My most honest prayer is not a request for answers, but a yielding of both my fear and my love into the care of a Higher Power who knows—and is not bound by—my limitations.

There is a sacred hush in realizing: I do not have to be the judge of the highest matters. I can lay down my gavel. My opinions will change. What feels urgent today may become irrelevant tomorrow. But the quiet, consistent grace of my Higher Power remains—unchanged by time, untouched by ego, undiminished by my doubt.

And so, I pause. I breathe. I release. Not because I have the answers, but because I no longer need them to keep going.

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Endigar 988

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on June 25, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Aug 11:

When I feel I just can’t face the world and want nothing more than to bury my head under the covers and hide, I know I need an Al-Anon meeting! I may have to push myself out the door, but I always feel better – and saner – when I break the isolation and reach out for help, I usually feel relief the minute I walk into an Al-Anon room, even if it’s a meeting I’ve never attended before. I find a healing, comforting Power in these rooms, a Power greater than myself. And because my Higher Power speaks through other people, I often hear exactly what I need.

We all go through periods of sadness, lethargy, and grief – that’s part of life. But depression can become a habit that perpetuates itself, unless I intercede by acting on my own behalf. Al-Anon cannot solve every problem, and if depression lingers, I may want to consider seeking professional help. But more often than not, what I need to do is bring my body to an Al-Anon meeting. I know that no matter how I feel, when I take an action to get some help, I make myself available to the Higher Power in these rooms.

Today’s Reminder

When in doubt, I will go to an Al-Anon meeting and invite my Higher Power to do for me what I cannot do for myself.

“There are times when I have to hurt through a situation and when this happens, the choice is not whether to hurt or not to hurt, but what to do while I am hurting.” ~ . . . In All Our Affairs

END OF QUOTE—————————————

There are mornings when the very idea of existence feels unbearable. I wake up heavy—not always with sorrow, sometimes with nothing at all, just a kind of gray emptiness that clings to my bones. The thought of facing the day feels like too much. My bed becomes not just a place of rest, but a cave, a hiding place, an invisible tomb. That is when I know—this is not where I’m meant to stay.

When I feel the pull to disappear, it is often a whisper from the part of me that remembers what it’s like to be alone too long. I used to think I needed to feel better before I could go to a meeting. Now I know better: I go because I don’t feel better.

Dragging my body to a recovery room—sometimes that is the miracle. I don’t have to be wise. I don’t have to be inspired. I just have to show up. The healing begins with presence. My heart may still feel numb, my thoughts may still swirl with shame or resistance, but something always shifts the moment I walk through the door. Even when the faces are unfamiliar, the spiritual gravity is the same: I am not alone.

I would like to say that I have stopped expecting thunder and lightning when I seek divine guidance. More often, my Higher Power sounds like a shaky voice across a circle. A soft laugh during a break. That is the voice that meets me in my pain—not to erase it, but to sit with me while I hurt. And somehow, that shared pain becomes bearable.

I suppose there is a difference between feeling grief and becoming it. Depression can become a rhythm, a posture. Left unchecked, it convinces me that it’s just who I am. But I’ve learned that while I can’t always choose whether I hurt, I can choose what to do while I’m hurting. I can choose to reach for light even if I’m not sure I’ll feel its warmth right away.

I’ve heard it said that faith is a verb. In my darkest moments, faith looks like keys in my hand and shoes on my feet. It looks like driving to a meeting even while the voice in my head insists I won’t be welcome, or I won’t be helped, or I’m too broken this time. Especially then, I go. Because those voices are not God. They are the residue of old survival patterns trying to masquerade as truth.

I’ve learned to walk anyway.

Today, I don’t have to wait to feel good to do good for myself.
I can hurt and still walk.
I can doubt and still show up.
I can fall into silence and still be heard.

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Endigar 986

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , on June 24, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Aug 10:

At an Al-Anon meeting we discussed the way our housekeeping habits reflected the effects of alcoholism. One person shared that his life felt completely unmanageable unless his house was perfectly neat. Tidiness gave him an illusion of control.

Others, including me, spoke of floors so strewn with clothes, books, and papers that we could not cross the room without stepping on, or tripping over, something. I had always considered this just a bad habit until I heard someone share that this clutter was her way of keeping people at a distance – isolating.

Then I remembered that in the house where I grew up, clutter had served just this function: I was always afraid to invite friends over because everything was too messy. It was uncomfortable to realize that I was doing the same thing in adulthood that had kept me isolated as a child.

Today’s Reminder

By taking a fresh look at what I thought of as just a bad habit, I can free my life of some clutter today. I can consider hidden motives for that habit without condemning myself or my family. Clutter doesn’t have to be physical; I may also find areas of my mental, spiritual, or emotional life that are in disarray. I can heal without making moral judgements about myself or others.

“. . . the Al-Anon program can give me a new view of my world by helping me to see myself more clearly . . .” ~ One Day at a Time in Al-Anon

END OF QUOTE—————————————

I used to think clutter was just a sign of laziness, a failure of discipline, a weakness I hadn’t yet whipped into submission. But recovery has taught me to look again—gently, curiously. The way I kept my space, or failed to, wasn’t a matter of housekeeping. It was a kind of self-portrait. Not the kind you hang on a wall, but the kind you live inside of without even knowing you’re painting it.

Some of us chased perfect order—tidying as if the world depended on it. And in a way, it did. Because if the house was clean, maybe the chaos wouldn’t get in. Maybe the shame would stay behind closed drawers and scrubbed countertops.

Others of us let the mess grow like weeds after the rain. Not because we didn’t care, but because something in us feared being seen. The piles of clothes, the stacks of books, the avalanche of unopened mail—each piece a little “No Trespassing” sign. Keep out. I’m not ready. I don’t feel safe.

Clutter isn’t always physical. Sometimes it’s the noise in my head, the resentment I haven’t released, the outdated beliefs I keep folded in the back of my spiritual closet. Just like the piles on the floor, these inner tangles keep me stuck, keep me disconnected.

But step by step, I can clear space. Not just for company, but for connection. For light. For my Higher Power to sit with me in the openness I once feared.

And so today, I might pick up the socks. Or I might sit still in the middle of the mess and ask: What am I afraid of? What am I protecting? And am I ready to lay it down—not perfectly, but peacefully?

I can heal, not by judging the past, but by listening to it. And in that sacred pause, I clear not just the floor—but the path forward.

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Endigar 983

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , on June 21, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Aug 08:

In Step Six I contemplate my life undergoing change – tremendous change. The great fear is this: If I shed many characteristics that stand in my way, what will be left? It is as though I face a great void, a terrifying unknown. Yet when I acknowledge how far I have come, I can see how much I want to change. The desire to grow and to heal has brought me to this uncomfortable point, because I am tired of the way I have been. My Higher Power is there to guide me when I am ready.

I find solace in the fact that in Step Six I need not change anything: I must simply prepare myself for change. I can take all the time I need. Such manageability is what I set out to find in the first place. Now it is a part of my life.

Today’s Reminder

I need not judge the rate at which I change old habits or ways of thinking. If I am uncomfortable with old behavior, then on some level I am already moving toward changing it. Change will not be effective unless I am ready for it. I need only trust that, when the time comes to move forward, I will know it.

“Remind me each day that the race is not always to the swift; that there is more to life than increasing its speed. Let me look upward into the towering oak and know that it grew great and strong because it grew slowly and well.” ~ Orin L. Crain

END OF QUOTE—————————————

NOTE: Orin L. Crain was an American writer of a well-loved inspirational prayer and poem known as “Slow Me Down, Lord”, penned around 1957. It’s a meditative plea for calm in a hurried world, including memorable lines like the one quoted above in Courage to Change.

There is a sacred pause between willingness and transformation—and that pause is Step Six. I stand here, on the trembling edge of change, not with a to-do list, but with a heart cracking open. I am not being asked to leap, only to want to leap. To prepare. To say, “Yes, I am willing… eventually.”

It’s humbling to realize how much fear still clings to the familiar—even when that familiarity is toxic. I’ve worn some of these defects like armor, others like masks. To set them down feels like disarming in a battlefield I’ve lived in for so long. Who will I be without them? There’s a void waiting, and it whispers not of death, but of birth.

That void is sacred. It’s not empty—it’s fertile. It’s where my Higher Power does the deep work.

I remember: I’ve come this far not by force, but by grace. Not by fixing, but by surrendering. It was my pain that brought me here, but it is my hope that keeps me here. Step Six asks me to trust the alchemy of readiness. That just noticing the discomfort in my old ways is already a sign that the new way is being born in me.

And I don’t have to rush it.

My pace is not a problem. My discomfort is not a failure. It is evidence. Proof that healing has begun.

I asked for manageability. Here it is: a Power greater than myself will carry the weight of change. All I must do is loosen my grip.

When I am ready, I will know.

And when I don’t know—I’ll wait.

That, too, is progress.

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Endigar 982

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on June 20, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Aug 07:

I’ve heard my Al-Anon friends refer to Steps Ten, Eleven, and Twelve as “maintenance” Steps. But I don’t want to merely maintain where I was when I completed Step Nine. This is not time to stagnate! Instead, I call them “growth” Steps. No matter how old I get, these last three Steps let me continue to challenge myself.

I tested this theory of mine when my spouse and I retired. I have more time now to meddle in others’ affairs, worry about our health, worry about finances, worry about world conditions, or to put it bluntly, just more time to go back to my old “stinking thing.” But with the help of these Steps, I find I also have more time to be aware of the extraordinary benefits of personal growth, with my Higher Power ever there to guide me and give me strength. Only with this increasing conscious contact with my God, can I live as I want to today.

The icing on the cake has been that I have more time to carry the message of this beautiful way of life. Some of my most pleasant memories, not to mention the times of greater growth, have come from this sharing with others and in giving service to my group and to Al-Anon as a whole.

Today’s Reminder

With the help of the Steps, I need never be stuck again.

“Be not afraid of growing slowly, Be afraid only of standing still.” ~ Chinese Proverb

END OF QUOTE—————————————

There was a time when the word maintenance felt like a settling—a quiet surrender to inertia. But I have learned, as the light of recovery grows steadier, that what some call maintenance, I experience as movement. Steps Ten, Eleven, and Twelve are not the end of the journey, nor are they merely a way to keep my spiritual tires inflated—they are the path of transformation itself. They are the rhythm of continued becoming.

When I first completed Step Nine, I felt something shift. A burden lifted, yes—but more than that, a space opened up inside me. And it didn’t ask for preservation. It asked for filling. For deeper honesty, deeper communion with my Higher Power, and deeper service. If I had stopped then, I might have become polished on the outside but hollow within. Instead, the invitation came clear: Grow.

Retirement brought unexpected challenges—more time to think, to meddle, to worry. The old fears found room again to rehearse their monologues. But I had tools now. I had the quiet daily practices of Steps Ten and Eleven—the gentle review of my inner world and the simple, sacred reaching toward God. These Steps became a compass when I felt adrift, a grounding when the old chaos tried to disguise itself as productivity.

And then there’s Step Twelve. The one that reminds me: this isn’t just for me. Carrying the message—whether in a quiet word over coffee or chairing a meeting—expands the gifts of recovery beyond my small life. It opens the windows again and again. It reminds me that joy doesn’t come from perfect circumstances, but from shared truth. I’ve been lifted more in giving than in receiving. Some of the most unexpected grace has shown up when I thought I was the one doing the helping.

Today, I don’t want to maintain—I want to be renewed. I want to be surprised by my own willingness to grow. That’s the miracle: this way of life doesn’t grow old, even as I do. It keeps inviting me, day after day, into the better version of myself—one that walks in humility, serves in love, and listens for the voice of God in every small moment.

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