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Endigar 1020

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

From Courage to Change of Sep 06:

A writer for a local newspaper recently maintained that most people spend more time planning vacations than they do thinking about what is really important in their lives. Of course a vacation has a certain importance, but as our slogan asks, “How Important Is It?”

In my case, the main focus of my mental activity usually is whatever problem, grievance, or irritation I am entertaining at the moment. “Now,” I tell myself, “I’m concentrating on what’s really important!” But, how important is it? When I look back on this two years from now, or next month, will it matter?

Al-Anon helps me to address the larger concerns in my life. For example, how can I make better contact with my Higher Power? Am I taking time to enjoy the present moment? Am I becoming the person I want to be? What can I give thanks for today?

Today’s Reminder

Are my priorities in order? Am I so busy with smaller, less meaningful concerns that I run out of time for the really important considerations? Today I will make room to think about what really matters.

“Today I’ll use the slogan, ‘How Important Is It?’ It will help me think things through before I act and it will give me a better picture of just what is important in my life.” – Alateen—a day at a time

END OF QUOTE—————————————

NOTE TO SELF THAT YOU MIGHT BENEFIT FROM: Reread Covey’s Seven Habits of Highly Effective People

One of the things I learned when I was first learning to use a firearm was that human beings have a natural instinct to flinch into retreat or freeze in place at the sound of the sudden loud noise or something moving very quickly toward the face. The sound of the shot and the push of the recoil tend to activate this reaction. It takes frequent, consistent exposure to overwrite this natural survival instinct and use the weapon with confidence.

Life has a way of filtering the frivolous by continuously challenging a chosen activity with easy escapism. This is yet another fear response to help survive the demands of my environment. Life asks “How important is your choice. Do you really want it?” If I answer yes, life laughs in my face. If I answer no, it haunts me with the truth. “I don’t believe you.” I must answer “Hell yeah!” to the important things of my life. Then the spiritual atmosphere seems to reinforce my choice.

And here’s the hard-won truth: not everything deserves my “Hell yeah.”

This program taught me the cost of my yes is measured in attention, time, surrender, and service. That makes my no sacred, too. It’s not selfish to say no—it’s spiritual clarity. Because if I say yes to every loud thing, I miss the still, small voice.

So today, I ask:

– What am I flinching from?
– What have I been whispering “maybe” to when my soul already knows the answer?
– Where is my “Hell yeah” waiting, buried under fear?

I don’t have to bulldoze over my survival instincts, but I can retrain them. I can honor the inner reflex, even as I outgrow it. And when I choose what truly matters—when I stay with it—I become someone life starts to believe in too.

Because the universe, like recovery, respects commitment. And a heart that says Hell yeah with humility and clarity is a heart that moves mountains.

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Endigar 1019

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

From Courage to Change of Sep 05:

When I began studying the Seventh Step, which says, “Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings,” my list of shortcomings included an extensive catalogue of feelings. I humbly asked God to remove my anger, fear, and guilt. I looked forward to the day when I would never experience any of these emotions again.

Of course, that day never arrived. Instead, I have learned that feelings aren’t shortcomings. The true nature of my problem was my stubborn refusal to acknowledge feelings, to accept them, and to let them go. I have very little power over what feelings arise, but what I choose to do about them is my responsibility.

Today I can accept my feelings, share about them with others, recognize that they are feelings, not facts, and then let them go. I’m no longer stuck in a state of seemingly endless rage or self-pity, for when I give myself permission to feel whatever I feel, the feelings pass. My emotions have not been removed; instead, I have been relieved of shortcomings that blocked my self-acceptance.

Today’s Reminder

When I take the Seventh Step, I pray that whatever interferes with my Higher Power’s will for me may be removed. I don’t have to have all the answers. I need only be willing.

“We didn’t necessarily get the results we wanted, but somehow we always seemed to get what we needed.” – In All Our Affairs

END OF QUOTE—————————————

I came into recovery with a broken guilt-o-meter. I felt guilty for things like expressing emotions. I felt no guilt for acts of manipulation in relationships. It was difficult in working the moral inventory to try and listen to my twisted conscious. I viewed the power of emotional suppression as a super power. I could do the hard things no one else could. Or so I thought. If I felt emotion, I was sure that something was wrong in me that needed to be fixed immediately so that I could regain the stoicism of a dead heart. I had to remain unshakable – immune to the turbulence of anger, fear, guilt. I thought spiritual growth would eventually mean not feeling so much, or at least not feeling the “bad” stuff. So, like a child with a broken toy, I brought my emotions to God in Step Seven and asked for them to be removed.

But what I’ve come to realize is that I wasn’t broken because I felt—I was broken because I believed I shouldn’t.

The longer I walk this path, the more I see that my emotions aren’t defects—they’re messages. Not always accurate ones, sure, but meaningful. Fear has protected me. Anger has drawn my boundaries. Guilt has whispered truths I wanted to ignore. It was never about removing these feelings, but about unblocking the channels through which grace could move through them.

Step Seven, for me, has become a kind of sacred surrender. Not a plea for numbness, but a prayer for clarity. I ask not to be emptied of emotion, but to be freed from the pride, control, and shame that keep those emotions stuck like stones in my spirit.

Now, when rage rises like fire in my chest, I don’t panic. I don’t condemn myself. I get curious. I breathe. I sometimes even invite it to tea. Because I know it won’t stay. No feeling does. They are travelers on the road of my recovery—not hitchhikers I must carry indefinitely.

I still want answers. I still want certainty. But Step Seven reminds me I don’t have to know—I just have to be willing. Willing to let go. Willing to be changed. Willing to keep feeling my way forward, one honest breath at a time.

And strangely, in surrendering what I thought I needed to get rid of, I found what I truly needed: compassion. For myself. For my process. For this sacred mess I call healing.

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Endigar 1018

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

From Courage to Change of Sep 04:

As we let go of obsession, worry, and focusing on everyone but ourselves, many of us were bewildered by the increasing calmness of our minds. We knew how to live in a state of crisis, but it often took a bit of adjustment to become comfortable with stillness. The price of serenity was the quieting of the constant mental chatter that had taken up so much time; suddenly we had lots of time on our hands and we wondered how to fill it.

Having become more and more serene as a result of working the Al-Anon program, I was surprised to find myself still grabbing for old fears as if I wanted to remain in crisis. I realized that I didn’t know how to feel safe unless I was mentally busy. When I worried, I felt involved — and therefore somewhat in control.

As an exercise, my Sponsor suggested that I try to maintain my inner stillness even when I felt scared or doubtful. As I did so, I reassured myself again and again that I was safely in the care of a Power greater than myself. Today I know that sanity and serenity are the gifts I have received for my efforts and my faith. With practice, I am learning to trust the peace.

Today’s Reminder

Today I will relish my serenity. I know that it is safe to enjoy it.

“Be still and know that I am with you.” – English prayer

END OF QUOTE—————————————

Serenity. Coma. Lethargy. Marijuana Intoxication. Paralysis. Impotence. To me, these were near identical synonyms. The neutrality of vigilance. The rejection of relevance.

“God grant me the Serenity to. . .” Accept.

In the world I came from, serenity felt suspicious.
Stillness was not safety—it was the silence before the next scream, the quiet that meant someone was brooding, using, or gone.
So when I began to heal, when the noise dimmed and the ache lessened, I didn’t feel peace.
I felt… lost.

What do I do when I don’t need to fix anyone?
What do I do when the fire alarm in my nervous system stops blaring?

For so long, obsession and worry were my way of being involved—my illusion of control.
They gave me purpose. They filled the hours.
They made me feel like I mattered.
To let them go felt like floating in open space without a tether.

But serenity, I’ve learned, is not empty.
It is not apathy. It is not ignorance. It is not withdrawal.
It is safety without vigilance, presence without panic.
It is the return of my life to me.

The first few moments of that calm were unbearable.
I wanted to reach for an old fear, the way a child grabs a familiar blanket, even if it’s filthy and torn.
Crisis was home.
But healing asked me to make a new home in the quiet.
Not to stop the fear.
But to let it move through me, while staying grounded in a Power greater than my history.

And I learned:
I can be scared and still be sane.
I can be uncertain and still be at peace.

Peace isn’t something I earn.
It’s something I practice receiving.

Today, I’m learning that serenity is not the absence of life.
It’s the presence of me—undistracted, undivided, beloved.

So I light a candle not because I’m scared, but because I am allowed to enjoy the moment.
I breathe deep not because I’m bracing, but because I’m here.
And when the stillness comes again, I won’t flinch.
I’ll embrace.

Because serenity is no longer a stranger.
It’s my inheritance.

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Endigar 1017

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

From Courage to Change of Sep 03:

Before coming to Al-Anon, I had built a lifetime of dreams and promises that were reserved for that one special day called, “Someday.” Someday I’II begin – or end – that project. Someday I’ll call that friend with whom I’ve lost touch. Someday I’ll let them know how I feel. Someday I’II be happy. I’m going to take that trip, find that job, speak my mind. Someday. Just wait and see.

Wait – just as I waited for the alcoholic to come in from a binge, and for inspiration to bring interesting friends and career opportunities to my doorstep, and for everybody else to change. But Al-Anon has helped me to see that today can be the Someday I’ve always wanted. There isn’t enough time in these twenty-four hours to do everything I’ve ever hoped to do, but there is time to start making my dreams come true. By asking my Higher Power for guidance and by taking some small step in the direction of my choice, I will be able to accomplish more than I would ever have thought possible.

Today’s Reminder

Today I will not wait for a blue moon, a rainy day, the 366th day of the year, or Someday to accomplish good things in my life.

“Each indecision brings its own delays and days are lost lamenting over lost days… What you can do or think you can do, begin it. For boldness has Magic, Power, and Genius in it.” – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

END OF QUOTE—————————————

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749–1832) was a towering figure of German literature, philosophy, and science—widely regarded as one of the greatest writers in Western history.

Most Famous Work: Faust, a tragic play in two parts, considered one of the most important works of Western literature. It tells the story of a man who makes a pact with the devil in search of ultimate knowledge and experience.

Other Works: The Sorrows of Young Werther (1774), a landmark of early Romanticism, which sparked a wave of sentimental literature—and even reported suicides among youth trying to emulate the protagonist.

Goethe explored the duality of human nature, the struggle for meaning, and the tension between reason and passion—anticipating thinkers like Nietzsche, Jung, and even Kierkegaard.

A lifelong seeker, he resisted rigid dogma, saying:
“He who possesses science and art also has religion; he who does not possess them needs religion.”

Goethe was also a scientist, particularly in the fields of botany, anatomy, and color theory. He even challenged Newton’s work on optics, proposing his own (controversial) Theory of Colors.

Goethe was deeply interested in alchemy, myth, the unconscious, and the soul’s evolution—themes that appear throughout Faust and his lesser-known esoteric writings.

Carl Jung considered Goethe a proto-depth psychologist and drew heavily from Faust in his ideas about the shadow, individuation, and the Self.

I am afraid of living a potential life. To have potential is to have fear. Only action in the now counters that fear. To achieve failure is better than to protect potential. To risk loss is better than saving for a beautiful coffin. One day at a time. End the day planning for the next. I want to find ways to justify getting out of bed and exhausting myself. The effective and acted on plan is better than the beautifully crafted promise. Someday is a myth that I can carry like a chain around my neck. Life is too sharp, painful, my voice too prone to the hesitant tremble. My grief becomes hardened into a habit. I beat myself to death with promises of someday.

I am free. I am allowed to re-create my life, to begin anew. I want to live boldly, to secure my freedom in quick forgiveness, and not to turn away from being seen.

I filled journals and conversations and fantasies with Someday.

But in the shadows of that promise, I postponed my own resurrection.
Because waiting—especially in families ruled by addiction—feels like love at first.
We wait for sobriety.
We wait for peace.
We wait for someone to choose us, change, or come home.

Recovery has shown me something strange and stunning:
There is no Someday. There is only Today, and the grace to be awake inside it.

Today is not a consolation prize.
Today is the only ground on which miracles grow.

And I don’t need to finish the novel, heal the wound, or reconcile every relationship today.
But I can make the call.
I can take the walk.
I can say the words: “I’m ready.”
I can set the boundary, speak the truth, write the page, wash the dish, light the candle.
That’s all it takes to betray the myth of Someday and let magic leak into this moment.

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Endigar 1016

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

From Courage to Change of Sep 02:

During my years in Al-Anon I have done lots of thinking about the First Step; lately I have done lots of feeling about it, too. The feeling work can be described mostly in one word: Grief. Recalling a friend’s rapid progression through alcoholism, from reasonable health and apparent happiness to cirrhosis and death, I feel grief.

I don’t necessarily hate this disease today, but I do feel fiercely its crippling, powerful presence in my life. I have memories of the damage done to my family, my friends, and myself. I grieve for the loss of love and life that alcoholism has caused. I grieve for the lost years I have spent jumping through the hoops of this disease. I admit that I am powerless over alcohol and that my life has been utterly unmanageable whenever I have grappled with it.

Today’s Reminder

I have suffered many losses as the result of alcoholism. Part of admitting the effects of this disease in my life is admitting my grief. By facing alcoholism’s impact on my life, I begin to move out of its grip and into a life of great promise and hope.

It’s not easy to admit defeat and give in to that powerful foe, alcoholism. Yet, this surrender is absolutely necessary if we are ever to have sane, happy lives again.

END OF QUOTE—————————————

NOTE: I gave AI a free hand with this one. It was difficult to write. Maybe that is cowardly. I do have people who have lived out the tragic end of Step One. My stepson is one of them. So, I cannot…

There are seasons in recovery when the mind must grow silent, and the heart, long buried under slogans and solutions, begins to speak. This reading is one such moment—where understanding gives way to feeling, and feeling leads me through the smoke of memory into the fire of grief.

For so long I thought Step One was an intellectual milestone. A declaration. A banner I could wave to mark the beginning of a new life: “We admitted we were powerless over alcohol—that our lives had become unmanageable.” I could recite it, share about it, even teach it.

But now I live it.

And living it means grieving.

Grieving not just what I lost, but what I was. The version of me who couldn’t stop trying. Who begged love to stay by becoming small. Who tried to fix the unfixable. Who danced for approval while my soul bled in private. Who kept showing up with a smile when the house inside was crumbling.

I grieve the hope I kept in others who were circling the drain.

I grieve the way addiction distorted love until it became bargaining.

I grieve the time.

The years.

The endless contortions of spirit.

And yet, this grief is not my enemy. It is the veil I must walk through. It is the sacred tearing, the blood-bound lament that says: You tried. You loved. You lost. And now… you can stop fighting.

Surrender is not failure. It is an act of sacred bravery.

To say, “I cannot do this anymore,” is to whisper a spell of resurrection.

Because from that whisper rises the first fragile breath of sanity. The tremble of hope not yet named. The promise that a power greater than myself might still hold me, even now, in this crumpled and unmanageable state.

So I grieve. And in that grief, I do not collapse—I arrive.

At the beginning.

At Step One.

At the aching threshold of healing.

And I hear it again, not as dogma, but as an invocation:

“We admitted…”

Yes. That is how the miracle always begins.

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Endigar 1015

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

From Courage to Change of Sep 01:

After taking a good look within itself, our very small home group discovered we had gotten into a rut without realizing it. It had been a long time since we’d had new members, new input. And all of our meetings, which were either round-table discussions, or based solely on the One Day at a Time in Al-Anon book, seemed to cover the same ground with little change.

We took a group conscience and decided to try some meetings using other Al-Anon literature. We began a series of speaker exchanges with other local groups. It was not long before things began improving. Our membership tripled within a year. We soon had so many newcomers that we set up a series of beginners meetings as an extension of our group. Each of us has personally benefited because of our willingness to take an inventory as a group.

Today’s Reminder

Each group, like each individual, goes through changes. But we don’t have to face those changes alone. The Second Tradition reminds us that a loving God expresses himself through our group conscience. When each of us is willing to grow, we all benefit.

“There is a comfortable feeling in knowing that guidance for the group comes not through individuals, but from the willingness of the group to follow whatever wisdom may be expressed through the membership.” – Al-Anon Faces Alcoholism

END OF QUOTE—————————————

“Al-Anon Faces Alcoholism” is a public outreach publication distributed by Al-Anon Family Groups. It’s not core program literature like How Al-Anon Works or One Day at a Time, but instead functions as an introductory and informational magazine. Here’s what you might want to know about it:

Purpose and Audience

  • Outreach Tool: It’s specifically designed to introduce non-members—especially professionals, newcomers, and the general public—to Al-Anon’s message of hope for families and friends of alcoholics.
  • First Encounter: For many people, this booklet is their first contact with Al-Anon literature. It helps explain what Al-Anon is (and is not), what the program offers, and how it differs from therapy or religious counseling.

Content and Structure

  • Real Member Stories: It often features short personal stories from members describing how they were affected by someone else’s drinking and how Al-Anon helped.
  • Basic Program Info: It includes explanations of the 12 Steps, what to expect at a meeting, and the foundational concept that Al-Anon is for the families and friends of alcoholics—not the drinkers themselves.
  • Clarifying Misconceptions: Many editions address common misunderstandings, like:
    • “I don’t belong in Al-Anon—they are the ones with the problem.”
    • “I didn’t grow up in an alcoholic home, so this doesn’t apply to me.”

There comes a time—both in my personal walk and in group life—when the stillness is no longer serenity but stagnation.

At first, sameness can feel like safety. Familiar readings, familiar faces, familiar phrases: they comfort me when the world feels uncertain. But over time, if I’m not careful, comfort becomes complacency. And the soil of recovery—once so rich with willingness—can begin to harden beneath the surface.

Inventory is not just for individuals. Just as I take a personal moral inventory in Step Four and revisit it often through Steps Ten and Eleven, so too can a group pause and ask: Are we growing, or simply repeating? Are we thriving, or just surviving?

“For our group purpose there is but one authority—a loving God as He may express Himself in our group conscience.” That phrase means we don’t lead with ego, nor do we follow passivly. We come together, each voice a thread, to weave something larger than the sum of us.

So today I ask myself:

  • Has my recovery fallen into a rut disguised as routine?
  • Am I open to letting new perspectives shake loose what no longer serves?
  • And when the group shifts, do I fear it—or do I listen for the God of our understanding whispering in the change?

A spiritually awake group, like a spiritually awake soul, makes room for new growth—even when it means stepping outside the comfortable repetition of yesterday’s answers.

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Endigar 1014

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

From Courage to Change of Aug 31:

I have often tried to change other people to suit my own desires. I knew what I needed, and if those needs weren’t met, the problem was with the other person. I was looking for someone who would always be there for me but would not impose on me very much. Looking back, it’s almost as if I were looking for a pet rather than a human being. Naturally, this outlook put a strain on my relationships. In Al-Anon I have learned there is a difference between what I expect and what I need. No one person can be all things to me.

Once again I’m faced with examining my own attitudes. What do I expect, and is that expectation realistic? Do I respect other people’s individuality — or only the parts that suit my fancy? Do I appreciate what I do receive?

Today’s Reminder

Trying to change other people is futile, foolish, and certainly not loving. Today, instead of assuming that they are the problem, I can look at myself to see what needs changing within.

“The beginning of love is to let those we love be perfectly themselves and not to twist them to fit our own image.” – Thomas Merton

END OF QUOTE—————————————

Thomas Merton (1915–1968) was a Trappist monk, writer, mystic, and social critic who became one of the most influential spiritual voices of the 20th century. Born in France and raised in Europe and the United States, Merton led a bohemian life as a young man before converting to Catholicism. In 1941, he entered the Abbey of Gethsemani, a Trappist monastery in Kentucky, where he lived for most of his life.

His spiritual autobiography The Seven Storey Mountain (1948) became an unexpected bestseller and is still considered a modern spiritual classic. It details his early life, conversion, and monastic calling.

He went on to write over 70 books covering Christian mysticism, contemplation, interfaith dialogue, and social justice.

A Trappist monk is someone who has surrendered to silence, who seeks daily spiritual clarity not through dogma but through disciplined reflection and holy routine. Their life is a metaphor for Step Eleven: “Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God…”

There was a time when I mistook control for connection. I would extend my heart like a leash—expecting those around me to conform, comply, and complete the parts of me I didn’t want to face alone. If they disappointed me, I blamed them. If they didn’t anticipate my emotional hunger or accommodate my fragility, My reflex might be to see it as betrayal. I didn’t realize that my coping instincts was to turn people into projects, lovers into lifeboats, and friends into mirrors who I expected to reflect back only what I liked.

The 12 Step recovery program taught me to pause long enough to ask: Am I loving this person—or managing them? Am I present to their reality—or editing their soul to make myself more comfortable?

In my desperation for safety, I had unknowingly tried to create emotional pets—warm, quiet, predictable companions who would never challenge me, never need me too much, never step outside the lines of what I could handle. But people aren’t pets. They’re sacred, stormy, living mysteries. And love isn’t domestication.

Through Step work, I’ve begun to see how my expectations—often rooted in fear, fantasy, or unmet childhood needs—distort my view of others. What I wanted from someone wasn’t always what I needed. And what I needed wasn’t always theirs to give. No one person can carry the full weight of my healing. That’s Higher Power territory.

So now, when I feel the itch to fix someone, I know to turn inward. The irritation may be revealing a part of me that still aches, still fears, still craves control disguised as care.

Recovery has not made me immune to longing—but it’s made me more honest about it. I can want closeness without suffocation. I can desire intimacy without rewriting someone’s script. I can love without needing to be worshipped.

Today, I remember:
The beginning of love is not to shape but to see.
To meet another soul not with conditions, but with presence.
To give the grace I crave.
To surrender the illusion of control.
To let people be.

And in that letting go—I become freer too.

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Endigar 1013

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on July 23, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Aug 30:

Normally my Sponsor would recommend a gratitude list when I felt low, but one day, when I complained about a family situation, he suggested that I list all the things I was unhappy about. Several days later my depression had passed, and when I told my Sponsor about the terrific day I was having, he suggested a gratitude list. He thought it might help me to refer to it the next time I felt blue. That made sense to me, so I complied.

When I went to put this new list in the drawer where I keep my papers, I noticed the earlier list and read it once more. To my surprise, my list of grievances was almost identical to my gratitude list — the same people, same house, same life. Nothing about my circumstances had changed except the way I felt about them. For the first time I truly understood how much my attitude dictates the way I experience the world.

Today’s Reminder

Today I recognize how powerful my mind can be. I can’t always feel good, and I have no interest in whitewashing my difficulties by pasting a smile on my face. But I can recognize that I am constantly making choices about how I perceive my world. With the help of Al- Anon and my friends in the fellowship, I can make those choices more consciously and more actively than ever before.

“Change your thoughts and you change your world.” – Norman Vincent Peale

END OF QUOTE—————————————

Norman Vincent Peale (1898–1993) was a Christian minister, author, and influential figure in American religious life, best known for popularizing the concept of “positive thinking” through his landmark 1952 book, The Power of Positive Thinking. A Methodist-turned-Reformed pastor, Peale served for more than half a century at Marble Collegiate Church in New York City.

There was a time in my life when the storm inside me felt louder than any peace I could muster. I’d sit with my Sponsor and bring him the scraps of my spirit—my grief, my discontent, my twisted thoughts—and he’d thoughtfully hand me back a tool. Sometimes it was a gratitude list, sometimes a question, and once—he told me that in my observations, my journaling, look for the patterns in my pain and resentment.

I have indeed found that my gratitude lists and my painful patterns dance in the same neighborhoods. It is true that sometimes, it is a matter of perspective.

This is where the real work of the program lives for me: not just in inventorying my defects, but in inventorying my perceptions. My attitude isn’t just the lens through which I see the world—it’s often the author of my experience. The same facts can tell wildly different stories depending on whether I’m rooted in fear or in faith.

I no longer see gratitude as a forced smile or a way to gaslight myself into feeling better. I see it as a recalibration of my spiritual compass. It reminds me that the story isn’t over, and I get to choose the tone of the next chapter. I still allow space for grief, anger, confusion—but I don’t build my home there. I let those feelings pass through like weather. And when I forget, my lists are there. Both of them. To remind me how much power I truly hold—not over people or outcomes, but over my own way of seeing.

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Endigar 1012

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 22, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Aug 29:

Since childhood I have been nagged by those moments when I said or did something that brought pain to another person. These are ugly memories that I never believed would go away. With Step Eight, however, I discover a means to release myself from unrelenting guilt.

This Step says to make a list of all people I have harmed and to become willing to make amends to them all. Finally, I can put down in words all the memories and all the pain. When I see them written in front of me, they seem almost manageable, and I feel hopeful about freeing myself from their weight as I become willing to make amends. I need not take any further action at this point. All I am concerned with now is the harm I have caused others, the guilt I have brought on myself, and the desire to do what I can to clear it all away.

Today’s Reminder

Guilt is a burden that keeps me from giving myself fully and freely to the present. I can begin to rid my mind of guilt by quietly admitting where and when I have done wrong to people, including myself.

“Al-Anon has shown me another way of living, and I like it. Life can either be a burden and a chore or a challenge and a joy. One day at a time I can meet the challenges of life head-on instead of head-down.” ~ As We Understood

END OF QUOTE—————————————

What As We Understood Is:

Full Title: As We Understood: More Talks on Al-Anon Principles

  • Published by: Al-Anon Family Group Headquarters, Inc.
  • First published: 1985
  • Format: A collection of essays and reflections written by Al-Anon members

This book explores spirituality from a wide range of personal experiences—without prescribing a single religious belief or dogma.

There are memories that trail us like smoke—thin, acrid, persistent. For me, it began in childhood: the sharp moments when my words cut, or my silence wounded, or I simply didn’t know better—but the damage still landed. Those memories carved themselves into my mind as shame-stained markers. I thought they were permanent. I thought they defined me.

And then came Step Eight.

It didn’t ask me to fix it all overnight.
It didn’t demand atonement before I was ready.
It simply asked me to look honestly and become willing.

To write the names.
To acknowledge the harm.
To open the door—however slightly—to the possibility of amends.

There is something powerful about naming. Something holy about writing it down. It takes the swirling shame out of abstraction and lays it flat on the page where it can be seen—not as a life sentence, but as a spiritual inventory. A map of where I’ve been untrue to myself and to others. A beginning.

I don’t have to make the amends yet. Step Eight reminds me: willingness is the work for now.
This is a step of preparation, of spiritual stretching.
It’s less about action and more about alignment.

And in that space, I find relief. I find dignity. I find hope.

Because guilt—unspoken, unexamined—has a way of locking us out of the present moment. It dims the light of connection. It whispers that we’re imposters in our own recovery. But when I begin to name the harm, the fog lifts. I can feel my heart begin to loosen its grip on the past. I can turn, gently, toward the living now.

Sometimes the first person I need to put on that list is me.

Because I have harmed myself too—with harsh words, impossible standards, addictive spirals, and the refusal to believe I was worth saving. I must be willing to make amends inward as well—to forgive the scared version of me who only knew how to survive.

The Steps have shown me that life isn’t just endurance. It’s discovery.
That the past isn’t just a burden. It’s compost for a freer soul.
And that isolated self-castigation isn’t living—it’s hiding.

Today, I lift my head.
Not because I’m proud of everything I’ve done—but because I’m becoming someone I’m no longer ashamed to be.

One name at a time.
One truth at a time.
One willingness at a time.

And that, I’ve learned, is more than enough to begin.

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Endigar 1011

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

From Courage to Change of Aug 28:

I had never dared to trust another person the way I trusted my first Al-Anon Sponsor. With faltering self-confidence I had asked her to sponsor me: I was a mess, would she have me? I was sure she would turn me down because I thought I was not worth saving. Her positive response really took me by surprise.

Gently, she guided me through the Steps. I was so desperate to feel better that I was willing to try whatever Al-Anon tool or idea she suggested. I lived, breathed, and ate Al-Anon.

One lonely day I phoned her, crying out in despair that I’d never get the hang of feeling better. What she said at that critical time was, “I don’t know anyone who is as willing to work the program as you are.” My spirits soared! She had said to me what I couldn’t say to myself, but I knew that it was true — I was very willing. In that moment of acknowledgment I knew I’d be okay, because I had what it took. In time, her example helped me learn to give that kind of acknowledg- ment to myself.

I had taken a chance. I had trusted. And as a result, I learned that I was worth saving!

Today’s Reminder

Learning to value myself can begin by having the courage to find, and use, a Sponsor.

“Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone; therefore, we are saved by love.” ~ Reinhold Niebuhr

END OF QUOTE—————————————

NOTE: Reinhold Niebuhr (1892–1971) was a prominent American theologian, ethicist, and public intellectual best known for his work in Christian realism—a philosophy that acknowledged the persistent reality of human sin and the limits of human perfectibility, especially in politics and social life. Niebuhr is widely credited with writing the Serenity Prayer, famously used in 12-Step programs like Alcoholics Anonymous:

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can,
And wisdom to know the difference.”

I’m currently working with my fourth sponsor in a journey that has unfolded over 18 years. Each one marked a significant layer of trust—not just in another person, but in the recovery process itself.

My first sponsor, David H., met the panicked, wild-eyed version of me—the confused soul who stumbled into the rooms with more fear than faith.
The second, Tim C., offered a place where I could be broken-hearted without shame. He helped me learn how to laugh at myself, to take things seriously but not personally. Both of these men walked with me through Cocaine Anonymous.

I’d never used cocaine, but I qualified for CA because their First Step reads, “We were powerless over cocaine and all other mind-altering substances.” Their meetings were open, raw, and felt freer—less bound by religious overtones than AA. It was the right space for me in those early years.

After years riding the relapse rodeo, I began to release some of my resentments toward organized religion. That shift made room for me to return to Alcoholics Anonymous, where I found my first AA sponsor, Happy Jack.

I still remember him saying, “Get off that cross—we need the wood.”
It was sharp. It was funny. It stuck.

Then he stopped returning my calls. I assumed I’d worn him out, that I was too much. It wasn’t until years later that I learned the truth: he had died. It had never been about me.

I tried going it alone for a while. That old lone-wolf pattern. But eventually, I reached again. My next sponsor, Charles N., is an artist. There’s something in that shared creative current, the way we both know the shadows and the dark wells—it’s made walking this road together deeply healing. Thank you, Charles.

Since then, I’ve settled more fully into recovery. I walked through Al-Anon with yet another sponsor, Paul, and completed the Steps. Then I joined Adult Children of Alcoholics (ACA) and am now being sponsored by Scott K. in that fellowship.

I’ve become thoroughly inundated with recovery.
And now—I sponsor others.

My point in sharing this history is simple:
The path isn’t always clear or easy. Connection doesn’t always come quickly.

But if the desire to live freely burns even slightly, it’s enough.
Enough to keep coming back.
Enough to fall seven times and get up eight.
Enough to turn away from morbid reflection—and recreate life.

Because in the end, sponsorship isn’t just about guidance.
It’s about being seen, walked with, and reminded:
You are never too far gone to begin again.

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