Archive for Courage to Change

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Endigar 937

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , on May 7, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Jun 28:

I always felt that my loved one’s drinking was a terrible reflection on me, and I worried about what people thought. One day he told me he wanted to get sober. I was elated for a day, until his next binge. Then I was devastated.

Some months later, my loved one finally did go to AA. Two days later, the drinking began again.

The most important thing I’ve learned in Al-Anon since then is that my well-being cannot depend upon whether or not the alcoholic drinks. His behavior is not a reflection of me, it’s a reflection of his disease. However, my behavior is a reflection of e, and I owe it to myself to pay attention to what it has to tell me. I have to take care of myself. I have to accept that alcoholism is a disease which can be arrested but not cured. Many alcoholics make a number of attempts at sobriety before actually getting sober; others never do. My life is too important to waste waiting for someone else’s choices, even when it’s someone I dearly love.

Today’s Reminder

No matter whether the alcoholic in my life is drunk or sober, the time to put energy into my own recovery is right now.

“Al-Anon helped me to focus my attention on what I could do about my situation, instead of concentrating all my attention on what I thought the alcoholic should do. I was the one who had to take a stand. “ ~ . . . In All Our Affairs

END OF QUOTE—————————————

There was a time when every relapse felt like a personal failure. I didn’t just worry about my loved one drinking again—I worried about what it said about me. What it meant about the life I was trying so hard to hold together. When they said they wanted to get sober, my heart lit up with hope. I thought maybe this time. But when they drank again the soon after, that hope collapsed like a house of cards, and I was left sifting through the debris of my expectations.

That wasn’t the last time I rode the rollercoaster. Each time they tried to quit, I held my breath. Each time they drank again, I felt like the bottom dropped out of my world. I thought if I could just do something differently—love harder, control better, explain more clearly—it would finally stick.

But Al-Anon slowly began to offer me a different way.

It didn’t happen all at once. But little by little, I came to understand that someone else’s drinking or using is not about me. It’s not a verdict on my worth or my effort. It’s not even about love. It’s a disease. And that disease has its own grip, its own voice, and its own timeline.

That realization was painful—but also incredibly freeing.

Because if their behavior is not a reflection of me, then I can stop living as though my life is on pause until they change. I can stop making their sobriety the condition for my peace. I can start paying attention to my behavior. To what I need. To what my own reactions are trying to tell me.

I’ve learned that self-care in this context isn’t negatively selfish. It’s survival. And more than that—it’s a spiritual responsibility. I can’t make him sober. But I can choose, every day, to be sober from the chaos, the obsessing, the waiting, the rescuing.

Recovery is not just for the alcoholic/addict. It’s also for those who love the alcoholic/addict.

And my healing doesn’t have to wait for anything. Not another promise, not another slip, not another “I swear I’ll change.”

The time to recover is now—because my life is too sacred to live in limbo. I am not responsible for another’s sobriety. I am responsible for my serenity. Now I am free to ask, “What in me is asking for care, now that I’m no longer waiting on someone else to change?”

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Endigar 936

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

From Courage to Change of Jun 27:

One day I received a call from a newcomer to Al-Anon. We chatted for a while, and then he asked if I would consider being his Sponsor. I was shocked! I never expected anyone to ask me! I felt deeply humbled and ecstatically grateful at the same time.

But had I grown sufficiently to offer help to someone else? Did I have anything to give? Could I be there for someone else without losing myself? Fear took over for a minute, but then I remembered that he was not asking me to be his savior, only his helper, whose example and experience might lead him to his own recovery.

I know that my Higher Power brings people into my life who can help me to grow. So I said a quick prayer, asking to be worthy, and answered that I would be honored to be his Sponsor.

Today’s Reminder

Being a Sponsor is as much a commitment to myself as it is to someone else. It is not a favor. Sponsorship gives me a chance to share intimately, to care, to practice detaching with love, and to apply the Al-Anon principles more consciously than ever. And, if I listen to my own words, I find that I usually tell those whom I sponsor exactly what I myself need to hear.

“Give what you have. To someone, it may be better than you dare to think.” ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

END OF QUOTE—————————————

By the time someone first asked me to be their Sponsor and truly began to do the work, I’d already been through a few false starts. They didn’t all make it—and I had to learn to accept that. What mattered was: I stayed sober. I stayed the course.

That was a win.

When the request came again, it didn’t shake me. I’ve led before. Taught. Served. I know how to hold a line. But recovery taught me that this line isn’t about command—it’s about presence. I’m not here to drag someone across the finish line. I’m here to walk beside them until they learn to walk on their own.

Sponsorship, for me, isn’t some mountaintop of wisdom. It’s a practice in staying human, honest, and awake. I don’t have to be a savior. I don’t have to fix anything. I just need to show up clean, consistent, and real.

And when I speak from experience, I listen to my own words. Often, I hear what I still need to hear.

It’s a mutual sharpening. A quiet contract between two people trying to live differently.

And even if they fall away again, I stay.
That’s what I can give.

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Endigar 935 ~ The Messenger

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

From Courage to Change of Jun 26:

Forgiveness can be just a change of attitude. I came to Al-Anon full of bitterness toward the alcoholic in my life. When I realized that my bitterness hurt me more than anyone else, I began to search for another way to view my situation.

In time, I came to believe that my alcoholic loved one might be the messenger my Higher Power used to let me know that I needed to get help. It is not fair to shackle her with credit or blame for the amount of time it took for me to pay attention to that message. I chose to tolerate a great deal of unacceptable behavior because I was unwilling to admit that I needed help. I did the best I could with the tools and knowledge I had at hand, and I believe that she did too. Eventually the message got through. I made it to the rooms of Al-Anon, and my life changed in miraculous ways. I don’t deny that hurtful things were said and done along the way, but I refuse to carry the burden of bitterness any further. Instead, I am grateful for what I have learned.

Today’s Reminder

I will not allow resentments to drag me down any longer. I am building a better and more loving life today.

“Forgiving is not forgetting, it’s letting go of the hurt.” ~ Mary McLeod Bethune

END OF QUOTE—————————————

There was a time when I carried bitterness like armor—close to the chest, heavy on the shoulders. I came into recovery with a heart full of accusations, convinced the unfaithful ones in my life were the architect of my pain. But time and grace are strange companions. Somewhere along the journey, I began to see with different eyes.

What if—just what if—she was not my enemy, but a messenger?

Not a perfect one. Not a gentle one. But a necessary one.

I can’t pretend the hurt didn’t happen. I won’t gloss over the words, the nights, the betrayal. But I can choose how long I carry it. I can choose whether to let those memories define the whole story or just a chapter of it.

And here’s the truth: I stayed too long in chaos, not because I was stupid, but because I didn’t know another way. I tolerated more than I should have, not because I liked suffering, but because I hadn’t yet learned to reach for help. That learning came slowly, and painfully—but it did come. And when it did, I walked into the rooms of 12 Step recovery. And my life began to change.

Forgiveness, I’ve found, isn’t always about saying “it’s okay.” Sometimes it’s just about setting the weight down. Seeing the past with clearer eyes. Letting my pain transform into compassion—not for her behavior, but for the brokenness in both of us.

Today, I give thanks not for the damage, but for the awakening it sparked. The messenger delivered the message. I listened. And that listening saved my life.

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Endigar 934

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

From Courage to Change of Jun 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 learned 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 price that is too great to pay for peace . . . One cannot pay the price of self-respect.”

~ Woodrow Wilson

END OF QUOTE—————————————

Self-abandonment is something that many experience when living in codependence. There is a great emotional cost of saying “yes” when the soul longs to say “no.” The biting of the tongue becomes a metaphor not just for silence, but for self-erasure. There was a time when I mistook silence for peace and compliance for love. I said “yes” so many times my tongue began to feel like an artifact—not a tool of truth, but a relic of performance. Behind every forced agreement, a little part of me curled inward, retreating from a world that never asked how I truly felt.

By the time I found Al-Anon, I was brimming with what I thought was anger toward others, but it was really the grief of self-abandonment. Resentment was the smoke; guilt was the ash. I had made a habit of swallowing my truth, hoping it would earn me a place in someone else’s peace. It never did.

Working the program taught me something both terrifying and liberating: I wasn’t lacking love—I was lacking courage. Not the kind of courage that roars, but the kind that whispers, “No,” when my soul knows that “yes” would be betrayal. The Serenity Prayer didn’t just soothe me—it instructed me. Courage is granted, yes—but only to those who ask for it, who receive it, and who dare to wield it.

The turning point wasn’t dramatic. It was a simple moment, sacred in its clarity. I realized I could stop volunteering for mistreatment. I could stop mistaking martyrdom for virtue. I stood up—not against someone else, but for myself. That was the moment I began to recover—not just from the effects of someone else’s drinking, but from the long habit of abandoning my own spirit.

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Endigar 933

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

From Courage to Change of Jun 24:

A farmer found a magical flute. Hoping to charm his hens into laying extra eggs, he played the flute to them all day, but at nightfall he had no more eggs than usual. Later, when asked if he’d had any success, the farmer replied, “I sure did. It wasn’t much of a day for egg-laying, but it was a great day for music!”

In Al-Anon, as in this fable, we learn that success and failure are a matter of perspective. Before coming to Al-Anon, many of us had known great disappointment because we couldn’t cure alcoholism in someone we loved. In time, we began to doubt our ability to take any effective action. We didn’t realize that we achieve many successes every day.

Our program helps us to recognize how much we have accomplished simply by being willing to walk through the doors of an Al-Anon meeting to ask for help. In spite of difficult circumstances, we now have the opportunity to change long-held behavior and beliefs. That is a great achievement.

Today’s Reminder

The finest gift I can give to ensure my continued recovery is willingness. Each demonstration of willingness, each meeting attended, each Al-Anon tool used, is a mark of my success.

“Every good thought you think is contributing its share of the ultimate result of your life”

~ Greenville Kleiser

END OF QUOTE—————————————

There’s something tender and freeing about the farmer’s flute—his shift from expectation to appreciation. He set out hoping for eggs and got music instead. That would have felt like failure to the old me: results-driven, desperate to fix, tangled in the illusion that I could force growth, healing, or peace in someone else.

But recovery has taught me a new kind of listening. I hear the music now, even when the eggs don’t come. I show up to meetings not because I know what I’ll get, but because I’m willing to be surprised by grace. That willingness—that simple openness—is a seed of real change. And sometimes, it takes the shape of laughter, insight, rest, or just the quiet comfort of not being alone.

Walking through the door the first time wasn’t small. It was sacred. It was me choosing to respond to pain rather than collapse into it. That choice is a success. Every tool I pick up, every new behavior I try, even every failure I sit with instead of run from—these are my contributions to the life I’m building.

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Endigar 932

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

From Courage to Change of Jun 23:

The courage to be honest with ourselves is one quality we can cultivate to help our spiritual growth. It takes a commitment to honesty to admit that someone we love has a drinking problem, that alcoholism and many other things are beyond our control, that there is a source of help greater than ourselves, and that we need the care of that Higher Power.

Honesty allows us to look at ourselves, to share our discoveries with God and others, to admit that we need spiritual help in moving forward, and to free ourselves by making amends for past wrongs.

We need to be truthful with ourselves as we continue to review our attitudes and actions each day. This allows us to be humble enough to reach out to others as equals, and to continue to grow in every area of our lives. Where do we find the courage to be so honest with ourselves? The courage to change the things we can is found in our continuously-developing relationship with a Power greater than ourselves.

Today’s Reminder

I know that honesty is an essential part of the Twelve Steps. I am willing to be more honest with myself today.

“Where is there dignity unless there is honesty?” ~ Marcus Tullius Cicero

END OF QUOTE—————————————

I feel the quiet, persistent tug of recovery calling me back—not to perfection, but to truth. Not the glamorous kind, not the kind that wins applause or brings immediate peace. The kind of truth that stings a little when I speak it. The kind that demands I put aside my pride, my polished story, and look at what is, not just what I wish were true.

Honesty in recovery isn’t just about admitting someone else has a problem—it’s about facing where I still struggle, even now. It’s about telling the truth that maybe I’m scared, or tired, or resentful. That sometimes I still want to control the uncontrollable, and that I forget—again—that there’s a Power greater than me whose care is always available.

But when I am honest, something shifts. A weight lifts. There’s a dignity in standing bare before that Higher Power and saying, “Here I am. This is what I’ve got today.” Whether that’s strength or shame, hope or heavy grief—it’s all welcome in that sacred space.

This honesty frees me to keep growing. It opens the door to humility, and with that, real connection—where I can meet others not from a place of superiority or shame, but shoulder to shoulder. And I remember that honesty is not a once-and-done declaration. It’s a practice. A willingness. A daily return.

So today, I say yes again. Yes, to truth. Yes, to courage. Yes, to a Power greater than myself, who teaches me that even when I feel weak, this willingness to be honest is, in fact, my greatest strength.

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Endigar 931

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

From Courage to Change of Jun 22:

My sharing at early Al-Anon meetings went something like this: “She makes me so mad,” and “I’m a nervous wreck because of him.” Thank God for a Sponsor who always brought the focus back to me and encouraged me to look at what my words really said. When I blamed others for how I felt, I was giving them power over my feelings, power that rightly belonged to me. Nobody can make me feel anything without my consent. I had a lot of attitude-changing to do.

Today, by being aware of the words I use, I am learning a more straight forward manner, but I also argue in a healthier way. There are better ways to express myself than to say, “You did such and such to me.” I can talk about myself and my feelings. I can explain the way I experienced something rather than telling the other person how he or she made me feel. I can talk about what I want. I am no longer a victim.

Today’s Reminder

What do my words communicate? Do they express what I am trying to say? Today I will listen more closely to what my words have to say.

“We learn in time that it is not subjects which are controversial, but the manner in which we communicate about them and the elements of personal blame we add to them in anger.” ~ The Dilemma of the Alcoholic Marriage

END OF QUOTE—————————————

I didn’t blame others for making me feel anything. That was never my vocabulary. If anything, my words were steeped in sorrow, not accusation. Despair wasn’t a mood—it was a kind of integrity. I didn’t dress my grief in the disguise of anger or blame; I let it speak for itself. And when I shared, it wasn’t about assigning fault—it was about expressing the aching helplessness of watching someone I cared about spiral, and the futility I felt trying to reach them.

My Sponsor didn’t shower me with affection or “love” as it’s often portrayed. What I received was a form of clarity, perhaps a kind of austere compassion. What helped was not warmth, but witnessing. Having someone who stayed steady while I didn’t flinch from the tragic dimension of my truth—that’s what kept me coming back.

Even now, I’m wary of joy that feels like theater. Of spiritual platitudes that skate over the dark water. I’ve trained myself to speak with a reverence for pain because that’s where my honesty has lived. When I feel most myself, it’s often in the shadows—not because I haven’t healed, but because I refuse to fake a light that hasn’t truly dawned.

So when I ask myself whether I’ve “improved” by learning to wear this cloak of restored joy and spiritual confidence—I feel the edges of that question cut deep. If healing means smiling more, I don’t know. But if healing means learning to carry tragedy without letting it erase me, then maybe, yes. If it means staying true to the solemnity that shaped me, while still finding the strength to show up—then I think that’s progress, even if it’s not pretty.

Because the truth is: sometimes the most sacred thing I can offer is not a polished testimony, but a quiet presence that refuses to lie.

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Endigar 930 ~ The Quiet Strength of Meditation

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

From Courage to Change of Jun 21:

What exactly is meditation? Is it something hypnotic, strange, and beyond my capabilities? The dictionary tells me it means, “to think contemplatively.” When I look up “contemplate” it says, “to view thoughtfully.”

In every quiet moment I can find to calm my mind and think through the day ahead of me, I am meditating. During these moments, by clearing my mind and asking my Higher Power to guide me, I find answers to my concerns. I don’t always expect or enjoy the answers I get, but to turn away from them causes even greater turmoil.

I have spent too much of the past working against my better instincts. God gave me instincts as a help, not a hindrance. The more I am quiet enough to discover and follow these instincts, the stronger they become.

Today’s Reminder

I will take time to clear my mind and focus on what is essential for today. I will release any unimportant thoughts. I will then allow myself to be guided toward the best action I can take for today. Regardless of how simple the answers my seem, I will listen without judgment. I will not take my thoughts for granted, for they may be my only guide.

“Go to your bosom: Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know.” ~ William Shakespeare

END OF QUOTE—————————————

Before recovery, I thought meditation was for other people — the enlightened, the peaceful, the ones who lit incense and floated above pain. I didn’t trust stillness back then; it felt like a trap. I needed chaos to feel alive.

But somewhere along the way, as I kept showing up for my regular practice — simple, imperfect, mostly just sitting and breathing — something started to shift. I began to notice that silence didn’t mean absence. It meant space. Spaciousness. A room inside myself where my Higher Power could speak in the only language the soul understands: quiet.

This reflection reminds me that meditation isn’t a performance — it’s permission. Permission to stop trying to figure everything out. Permission to be empty, just for a few minutes, and listen without fixing. Sometimes I receive insight. Sometimes just presence. Sometimes, like today, I realize how deeply it has shaped me — not because I’m “doing it right,” but because I no longer lose myself in every loud moment that comes.

When I had an automobile accident today, my body was hit — but I wasn’t. And maybe that’s what meditation has given me: a self that’s no longer tied to every external storm. I don’t have to panic. I don’t even have to react. I just breathe, ask for guidance, and wait.

I don’t always like the answers. But I’ve lived long enough to know that running from the truth hurts worse than facing it. I’ve fought my own spiritual instincts for years, called them inconvenient, too soft, too slow. But now I see — they were never the problem. They were the compass I didn’t know how to read.

Today, I’ll keep clearing a little space. Not for perfection — for direction. Even the gentlest nudge from within is enough to move mountains when I’m willing to trust it.

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Endigar 929

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

From Courage to Change of Jun 20:

Fear was a daily part of my experience of alcoholism, and I learned certain ways to cope with it. I often catch myself reacting to my fears in the same way today, even though my circumstances have changed. For example, I often keep quiet when confronted, instead of speaking my mind. This might be a legitimate response, except that I don’t consciously make the choice. This is not responding, it’s reacting, giving up my self-respect out of fear and out of habit.

My best alternative is to admit that I have a problem, accept my reactions, and turn them over to my Higher Power. I’ve often heard that courage is fear that has said its prayers. I must recognize my fear, I must say those prayers, and I must have faith as I wait for healing.

In the meantime, there are important ways in which I can help myself. The first step in learning to respond more effectively to others is to learn to respond more effectively to myself. I can learn to respond with love, caring, and respect for myself, even for those parts of me that experience fear, confusion, and anger.

Today’s Reminder

Today I’ll try to become more aware of alternatives that I haven’t yet recognized.

“. . . Al-Anon helped me to accept the fact that, although I have no control over other people’s reactions or thoughts, I can change the way I react.” ~ . . . In All Our Affairs

END OF QUOTE—————————————

Fear used to be the water I swam in — so constant I didn’t even know it had a name. It shaped everything: the way I spoke (or stayed silent), the way I moved through relationships, the way I tried to survive. I learned to shrink, to please, to disappear. It wasn’t a conscious decision — it was instinct. It was armor. It was all I knew.

Even now, in recovery, I sometimes catch myself slipping back into those old patterns — not because I’m failing, but because the body remembers. I still find myself going quiet when I’m afraid, even if I have something important to say. I freeze, I retreat, I abandon myself, not because I want to, but because I forget I have another choice.

That’s the difference recovery is teaching me — between reacting and responding. Reaction is old wiring. Response is healing.

And the path to response starts with awareness. It starts with pausing long enough to say, Oh. I’m scared right now. And then instead of pushing it away or letting it run the show, I bring it to prayer. I offer it to my Higher Power — not to be instantly fixed, but to be held.

I’ve always loved that phrase: “Courage is fear that has said its prayers.” It doesn’t mean the fear disappears. It means it no longer has the final word.

One of the most important things I’ve learned is that I cannot respond lovingly to others if I don’t first learn how to respond lovingly to myself. That includes the parts of me that still feel scared, confused, or angry. They’re not signs of failure — they’re signs of being human. And they’re worthy of compassion.

Today, I don’t have to control anyone else’s thoughts, feelings, or reactions. That’s not my job. My job is to become more aware of myself — and to gently, steadily, practice choosing love over fear.
Especially when it comes to the way I treat me.

Courage is armor
A blind man wears;
That calloused scar
Of outlived despairs;
Courage is Fear
That has said its prayers.

~ Karle Wilson Baker

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Endigar 927

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on April 27, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Jun 19:

When I’m troubled by another person’s behavior, a complicated situation, or a disappointing turn of events, Al-Anon reminds me that I don’t have to take it personally. I’m not a victim of everything that happens unless I choose to see myself that way. Though things don’t always go my way, I can accept what I cannot change, and change what I can.

Perhaps I can take a different view of my problems. If I accept them at face value without taking them personally, I may find that they are not problems at all, only things that have not gone as I would have liked. This change of attitude can help free me to evaluate the situation realistically and move forward constructively.

Today’s Reminder

Blaming my discomfort on outside events can be a way to avoid facing the real cause – my own attitudes. I can see myself as a victim, or I can accept what is happening in my life and take responsibility for my response. I may be guided to take action or to sit still, but when I listen to the guidance of my Higher Power I will no longer be the victim of my circumstances.

“God asks no man whether he will accept life. That is not the choice. You must take it. The only choice is how.” ~ Henry Ward Beecher

END OF QUOTE—————————————

My mind often wants to go to war with life. It’s as if, when something hurts, I instinctively look for someone or something to blame — God, the betrayal, my internal cognitive dissonance. Blame used to feel like protection. If it was an identifiable fault, maybe I could stay safe, or at least feel justified in my anger or withdrawal.

But recovery has been slowly, patiently teaching me another way: that my peace does not depend on the world behaving the way I want it to. My peace depends on the choices I make about how to see and respond to the world.

When I read, “I’m not a victim of everything that happens unless I choose to see myself that way,” I felt a quiet tap on my shoulder. How often do I still cling to a story of being wronged? How often do I use discomfort as proof that life has betrayed me, rather than seeing it as life simply being life — unpredictable, imperfect, alive?

Today I’m reminded that much of my pain is not caused by the events themselves, but by the way I wrap myself around them, the way I resist them or try to demand that they be different. I have always had acceptance issues.

There is so much freedom in learning to accept things at face value. To feel disappointment without turning it into resentment. To experience loss without turning it into a judgment against myself or others. To see an unmet desire not as a cosmic injustice, but simply as what is.

I think this is the heart of the matter: when I blame outside events, I’m usually avoiding a harder truth — that my real suffering comes from my own fearful, grasping, controlling attitudes. It’s humbling. And liberating. Because if the problem isn’t “out there,” then the solution doesn’t have to wait for anything to change. It’s already within me.

I’m learning — slowly, imperfectly — to listen to the quiet, steady voice of my Higher Power. Sometimes that voice says “Act.” Sometimes it says “Wait.” But it always says, “You are not a victim. You are loved. You are free.”

I don’t always hear it right away. But today, I’m willing to listen.

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