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Endigar 1040 ~ Familiar Storms

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on September 12, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Sep 21:

In living with the disease of alcoholism, I became a fearful person who dreaded change. Although my life was full of chaos, it was familiar chaos, which gave me the feeling that I had some control over it. This was an illusion. I have learned in Al-Anon that I am powerless over alcoholism and many other things. I’ve also learned that change is inevitable.

I no longer have to assume that change is bad because I can look back at changes that have had a very positive effect on me, such as coming into Al-Anon.

I still have many fears, but the Al-Anon program has shown me that my Higher Power will help me walk through them. I believe that there is a Power greater than myself, and I choose to trust this Power to know exactly what I need and when I need it.

Today’s Reminder

Today I can accept the changes occurring in my life and live more comfortably with them. I will trust in the God of my understanding, and my fears will diminish. I relax in this knowledge, knowing that I am always taken care of when I listen to my inner voice.

“We may wonder how we are going to get through all the stages and phases, the levels of growth and recovery… Knowing we are not alone often quiets our fears and helps us gain perspective.” ~ Living with Sobriety

END OF QUOTE—————————————

Living with alcoholism trained me to believe that chaos was safer than change. The storms were familiar, and I told myself that familiarity meant control. But the truth Al-Anon taught me is that this was only an illusion. I was powerless not only over alcohol, but also over the constant shifting ground beneath me. Change comes whether I resist it or not.

I used to believe every change was a threat, another disaster waiting to unfold. But when I look back, I see that some of the most life-giving transformations—like walking through the doors of 12 Step Recovery—began as changes I once feared. Fear said, “Don’t move.” Hope whispered, “Step forward.” And in time, I learned that my fear could coexist with faith until faith grew stronger.

I admit I still fear change, but I choose not to be ruled by it. Each time I walk through fear, I prove to myself that I can. I ask, What gift might this change hold? I hear in others’ stories the same tremors of fear, and I walk with them as they walk with me. I pause to see how far I’ve already come. I share my fear honestly in meetings, and it becomes less heavy. Change is no longer just loss—it is a doorway into the yet-unlived.

Instead of treating fear as a verdict, I now see it as a signal. It tells me I am stepping into new territory. The principles of this program—prayer, inventory, fellowship—equip me to take those steps with more serenity. The same program that once helped me simply survive chaos now helps me welcome change as a teacher.

I trust that my Higher Power knows what I need and when I need it. My fears don’t vanish, but they soften when I let myself rest in the care of Something greater than me. I don’t have to see the whole map; I only need to listen for the next right step. My inner voice, when tuned to the divine frequency, assures me I am never walking alone.

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Endigar 1035

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

From Courage to Change of Sep 18:

When I am troubled about what lies ahead, I look back to see where I’ve been. When I was very new to the program, I would say, “I’m better off now than I was before I came to Al-Anon. I’ll keep coming back.” When I grew frustrated because of all the changes I wanted to make in myself, I said, “At least I’m aware of the problems. Now I know what I’m dealing with.” And recently I found myself saying, “If someone had told me a year ago that I would be where I am today, I wouldn’t have believed it possible.”

Time offers me evidence that the Al-Anon program works — I can see the growth in my life. The longer I live by these principles, the more evidence I have. This reinforcement provides strong support in times of doubt and helps boost my courage in times of fear.

Today’s Reminder

When I feel unable to move, or when I am filled with fear, I have a wonderful gift to help clear my way – the gift of memory. Too often my memory has given me sadness, bringing back past hurt and shame. But now I can use my memory to see the progress I have made and to know the joy of gratitude. My own experience is teaching me to trust this wonderful recovery process. All I have to do is pay attention.

“God gave us memories so that we might have roses in December.” – James M. Barrie

END OF QUOTE—————————————

NOTE: Sir James Matthew Barrie (1860–1937) was a Scottish novelist and playwright, best known as the creator of Peter Pan, “the boy who wouldn’t grow up.”

  • Origins: Born in Kirriemuir, Angus, Scotland; studied at the University of Edinburgh; began as a journalist and novelist.
  • Major works: Peter Pan, or The Boy Who Wouldn’t Grow Up (1904 play), the novel Peter and Wendy (1911), and other popular plays such as The Admirable Crichton (1902), Quality Street (1901), and What Every Woman Knows (1908).
  • Inspiration: Peter Pan grew from Barrie’s close friendship with the Llewelyn Davies boys, whom he later helped raise after their parents died.
  • Honors: Created a baronet (1913) and appointed to the Order of Merit (1922); later served as Chancellor of the University of Edinburgh.
  • Legacy: In 1929 he gifted the copyright of Peter Pan to London’s Great Ormond Street Hospital for Children, a bequest uniquely protected in UK law so the hospital benefits in perpetuity.

He died in London on 19 June 1937 and is buried in Kirriemuir.

END OF NOTE—————————————

I had an enemy that dwelt in my memories. I called it the black void. Until recently, it carried an unknown shame and a hunger to be more than what I am. Experiences are not thread together by time, but by memory. This is the library of our partially chewed facts and lurking emotions narrated by imagination. And I see him, the child that was, looking at me, concerned, holding a little golden container, ridged on top, and unopened. When my past self and me learned to trust one another, I take the small golden container and open. A key. It is the ownership of my own life.

Sometimes memories carry the jagged edges of shame, the evidence of failure, the replay of hurts that never seemed to fade. But recovery is teaching me to handle memory differently—not as a whip, but as a lantern. When fear closes in on me about the future, I can turn that lantern backward and see the path I’ve already walked. And there it is—progress, undeniable. Each mile marker testifies: I’ve survived, I’ve grown, I’ve changed.

Early on, progress looked small: simply being better off than before, or becoming aware of my problems rather than lost in them. Later, I found myself astonished at how far I had come. Memory, in this light, becomes a treasury rather than a trap. My experiences shift from burdens to proof that this program works. Even my struggles, once I’ve walked through them, become evidence that courage and healing are possible.

Memory is mystical in this way: it is the same faculty that can torment me or console me, depending on how I hold it. In the hands of fear, it drags me backward. In the hands of gratitude, it pulls me forward. My Higher Power reclaims memory as a sacred tool, turning old sorrow into new courage. This is where the spiritual recovery tool of a gratitude list is a helpful practice. I admit my fear of the future, but I bring memory as evidence against despair. I use my own progress as proof that more is possible. And I wonder how memory itself can be a Higher Power’s gift. My story becomes a light for others when I share it. I intentionally turn memory toward gratitude, not shame and I testify in meetings about how far I’ve come, not only how far I must go.

Memory is not a prison; it is a map of grace unfolding.

When I feel paralyzed, I can pause and ask:

  • What progress have I already made?
  • What evidence does my own story give me that I can trust this process?
  • How can gratitude transform what memory is showing me today?

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Endigar 1033

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

From Courage to Change of Sep 17:

Most human beings have an instinctive need to fit in. The urge to belong, to keep the peace, helps us to get along with others and be a part of society. This instinct has allowed many civilizations to survive, and is not harmful unless I lose my sense of balance.

People-pleasing becomes destructive when I ignore my own needs and continually sacrifice my well-being for the sake of others. Al- Anon helps me find a compromise that allows me to respond to my feelings, including my desire to belong, and still take care of myself.

The best way to maintain this balance is to build my self-esteem. When I treat myself with kindness and respect, I become better able to get along with others.

Today’s Reminder

I will appreciate that all of my instincts and feelings exist for a reason. Today, instead of trying to banish these feelings, I will strive to find a balance.

“If I am not for myself, who will be for me? And if I am only for myself, what am I? And if not now — when?” ~ Hillel

END OF QUOTE—————————————

NOTE: Hillel the Elder, Pirkei Avot (Ethics of the Fathers) 1:14 in the Mishnah.
Hebrew: “אם אין אני לי, מי לי? וכשאני לעצמי, מה אני? ואם לא עכשיו—אימתי?”

END OF NOTE—————————————

I admit that I want to be loved, but not at the cost of abandoning myself. I know the instinct to belong—it pulses in me like a drumbeat. It kept my ancestors alive, kept me safe as a child, and still whispers in my adult choices: “Don’t stand out, don’t cause a ripple, stay useful so you’ll be kept.” Belonging is not wrong. It is part of the design. But in recovery, I’ve had to face the truth that when I bend too far, I begin to break. People-pleasing is not the same as love. It is survival dressed in fear.

When I gave away my needs in exchange for peace, the peace never lasted. I’d buy acceptance with silence, but the silence corroded me from the inside. Self-Recovery teaches me that my desire to fit in is not a defect—it is an instinct. And instincts need balance, not banishment. Balance comes when I allow myself to matter. When I name my needs. When I remember that I, too, am part of the “we” I keep sacrificing for. So, I practice saying no, even when my voice shakes. I keep checking: am I serving love, or am I serving fear?

There is something mystical in realizing that self-respect is not selfish—it is the oxygen mask I must put on before I can help another breathe. My Higher Power reminds me that harmony is not found in erasing myself, but in showing up whole. True connection cannot grow from pretense or resentment. It grows when I bring my authentic self into the circle. What if belonging could mean being accepted as I am, not as I pretend to be?

To keep my instincts in balance, I build self-esteem the way a mason lays stones: one daily act of kindness toward myself, one truth told without apology, one pause before saying “yes.” With each stone, the wall of resentment lowers, and the foundation of recovery strengthens. Balance is not found in exile of instinct, but in weaving instinct into wisdom. I remember that others also wrestle with these same instincts. When I let people know me—not just the agreeable me, but the whole me, I give a nod of social permission to do the same. That is the world I would like to live in; one that is safe to be me.

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Endigar 1029

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on August 26, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Sep 14:

Living with alcoholism taught me that it was best not to hope for anything. The lessons were too painful — I would get excited about something, only to have my hopes shattered. As time passed and hope diminished, I fell deeper into despair. Eventually I shut down my feelings and refused to care or to hope for anything at all.

Through Al-Anon’s Twelve Steps, I am discovering a spirituality that allows me to believe that there is every reason to hope. With my Higher Power’s help, regardless of my circumstances, I can feel fully alive in the moment and enjoy this feeling. The painful lessons of a lifetime are not unlearned overnight, but Al-Anon is helping me to learn that it is safe to feel, to hope, even to dream.

Today’s Reminder

It is risky to care — I may be disappointed. But in trying to protect myself from pain, I could cut myself off from the many delights that life has to offer. I will live more fully today.

“Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul.” ~ Samuel Ullman

END OF QUOTE—————————————

NOTE: Samuel Ullman (1840–1924) was an American businessman, poet, humanitarian, and religious leader best remembered for his poem “Youth.”

Early Life

  • He was born in Hechingen, Germany, in 1840.
  • At the age of 11, he immigrated with his family to the United States, settling in Mississippi.
  • Samuel Ullman’s father, Jacob Ullman, operated a butcher shop in Port Gibson, Mississippi when the family settled there in 1851. Young Samuel assisted him each morning delivering orders before school and later helped purchase cattle for the business
  • When the Civil War broke out, Ullman, then in his early 20s, served in the Confederate Army. He was part of a local Mississippi unit.
  • Samuel Ullman wed Emma Mayer on May 24, 1867, in Natchez, Mississippi. They had a total of eight children. However, of these, six survived to adulthood, meaning two sadly passed away in early childhood

Career and Contributions

  • Ullman became a successful businessman in Birmingham, Alabama, after moving there in 1884.
  • He was deeply involved in civic life: he served on the Birmingham Board of Education, championed racial equality in education, and was active in religious and community causes.
  • As a lay leader in Temple Emanu-El (a Reform Jewish congregation), he was respected for his moral vision and emphasis on human dignity.
  • Jewish Leadership
    Ullman was raised in a Jewish family and carried his faith with him through his moves from Germany to Mississippi and later to Birmingham, Alabama.
    In Birmingham, he became a founding member of Temple Emanu-El (a Reform Jewish congregation). His leadership there was notable, as he worked to help establish Jewish religious life in what was still a very young and rapidly growing city.
    He also served as a lay leader, meaning he often led prayers, gave talks, and carried responsibilities when professional rabbis were unavailable.

    Service to the Community
    Ullman emphasized that religious duty was not confined to ritual, but extended to civic responsibility.
    He served on the Birmingham Board of Education and worked to promote racial justice and better schooling for African Americans at a time when this was rare. His religious values deeply influenced this advocacy, seeing education as a spiritual responsibility.

    Philosophy of Faith
    In his writings and speeches, Ullman often connected faith with youthfulness of spirit, stressing inner renewal and moral courage as religious acts.
    His famous poem Youth embodies this perspective: living with openness, hope, and vitality was for him not just personal philosophy, but a religious ethic.

    Practical Duties
    He helped guide Jewish worship and community structure at Temple Emanu-El.
    He lived by example, showing that religious duty extended to the way one treated others—through kindness, justice, and an unflagging commitment to growth.

His Poem “Youth”

  • Ullman is most famous for writing the poem “Youth,” which he composed later in life.
  • The poem emphasizes that youth is not defined by age but by attitude, imagination, and ideals.
  • It gained international fame largely because General Douglas MacArthur often quoted it and kept a framed copy in his office in Tokyo after World War II.
  • The poem became especially popular in Japan, where it continues to be read as an inspirational text.

Legacy

His life embodied service, cross-cultural respect, and the blending of business success with moral and civic duty.

In Birmingham, the Samuel Ullman Museum (part of the University of Alabama at Birmingham) preserves his legacy.

Youth by Samuel Ullman

Youth is not a time of life; it is a state of mind; it is not a matter of rosy cheeks, red lips and supple knees; it is a matter of the will, a quality of the imagination, a vigor of the emotions; it is the freshness of the deep springs of life.

Youth means a temperamental predominance of courage over timidity of the appetite, for adventure over the love of ease. This often exists in a man of sixty more than a body of twenty. Nobody grows old merely by a number of years. We grow old by deserting our ideals.

Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul. Worry, fear, self-distrust bows the heart and turns the spirit back to dust.

Whether sixty or sixteen, there is in every human being’s heart the lure of wonder, the unfailing child-like appetite of what’s next, and the joy of the game of living. In the center of your heart and my heart there is a wireless station; so long as it receives messages of beauty, hope, cheer, courage and power from men and from the Infinite, so long are you young.

When the aerials are down, and your spirit is covered with snows of cynicism and the ice of pessimism, then you are grown old, even at twenty, but as long as your aerials are up, to catch the waves of optimism, there is hope you may die young at eighty.

END OF NOTE—————————————

When the lips are gone, the smile turns irrepressible.
When the orbs sink into the raven’s gut, the gaze remains ever watchful.
The oxygen tent is torn away, and nature’s breath flows unhindered.

Emptiness lingers—
the footprint of that wandering ghost we call freedom,
passing through walls of illusion without training wheels.

And in its wake,
hope rises, resurrecting life anew.


Living with alcoholism taught me that hope could feel like a trap. Each time I reached for it, I seemed to be punished: expectations raised, then crushed. So I trained myself not to hope at all. It felt safer to numb, safer to shut down, safer to live in a barren landscape than to risk the disappointment of a shattered dream. Yet beneath that silence, despair kept spreading roots.

The Twelve Steps have been my invitation back to hope. Not the fragile, conditional hope that depends on someone else’s behavior or on life bending to my demands — but the grounded hope that comes from turning my will and my life over to a Higher Power. With help, I’ve learned that it is safe to feel again, safe to open the heart a crack wider, safe to let the light in. Hope does not mean I will get everything I want; it means I can trust that whatever comes, I will not face it alone.

Yes, there is risk in caring. To love, to hope, to dream means stepping into vulnerability, and vulnerability always carries the possibility of pain. But pain is not the enemy — disconnection is. When I cut myself off to avoid being hurt, I also cut myself off from joy, laughter, intimacy, and the unexpected gifts life places along the way. Hope is not a guarantee against suffering, but it is the doorway into living fully


Today I can choose to treat each act of hope as a spiritual exercise:

  • When I allow myself to hope, I practice courage.
  • When I risk caring, I practice connection.
  • When I dream, I practice co-creating a life with my Higher Power.

1. Spiritual Honesty: I name my fear of disappointment.
2. Resilience: I let myself hope anyway.
3. Curiosity of the Soul: What possibilities open when I refuse despair?
4. Empathy and Compassion: Others fear hope too — my journey can reassure them.
5. Discipline in Reflection: Each day I test where I’ve hidden from hope, and I try again.
6. Courage to Be Seen: I confess that I want more from life — and that is holy.
7. Creative Insight: Hope is not fragile glass, it is a living seed — buried, yes, but insistent on breaking through.

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Endigar 1024

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on August 12, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Sep 09:

Sometimes I sit in a meeting and I don’t know how to ask for help. I can get trapped inside my pain. Some nameless thing seems to tear at my insides. I freeze, thinking that if I don’t move, it will go away. So I don’t ask, I don’t talk, and the pain grows.

Does my face look calm? Don’t be fooled. I’m just afraid to let you see the truth. You might think I’m foolish or weak. You might reject me. So I don’t talk, and the pain remains.

But I listen. And through other people, my Higher Power does for me what I can’t do for myself. Someone in the meeting shares and expresses the very feelings I am afraid to describe. My world suddenly widens, and I feel a little safer. I am no longer alone.

Today’s Reminder

One of the miracles I have found in Al-Anon is that help often comes when I most need it. When I can’t bring myself to reach out for help, it sometimes comes to me. When I don’t know what to say, I am given the words I require. And when I share what is in my heart, I may be giving a voice to someone who cannot find his own. Today I have a Higher Power who knows my needs.

“As I walk, As I walk, The universe is walking with me.” – from the Navajo rain dance ceremony

END OF QUOTE—————————————

To withdraw or not to withdraw—that is the question. Life among humans can feel unbearably taxing, threatening, and disappointing. There’s no escaping that imagined spotlight fixed on my weaknesses, and no connection that fully satisfies my longing for something more.

I suspect others feel much the same. I also suspect that much of life is pretense—a kind of protective ritual. Whenever I encounter genuine connection in a safe space, it feels like a godsend. But inevitably, humanity finds a way to wound the inner child. And in the game of life, the safest place often seems to be the sidelines.

I know that silence can feel like safety. In my darker seasons, I’ve sat in meetings with my insides in knots and my face arranged in calm, thinking the stillness might somehow hide my storm. I’ve feared that if I spoke, I would be exposed—my weakness on full display, my worth put on trial. I’ve told myself, Just keep quiet. It will pass.

It rarely passes on its own. Pain that is swallowed whole only seems to grow heavier. But even when I can’t make my voice work, recovery has a way of finding me. I’ve sat frozen, and then someone across the circle shares a story that sounds like my story. Their words become the key I didn’t know I was holding. In that moment, the tight walls of my solitude widen, and light seeps in.

This is one of the miracles of our rooms: I don’t have to be the one speaking to be reached. My Higher Power uses the voices of others when I’ve lost my own. And when I finally dare to share my truth—halting, messy, imperfect—I sometimes see the same relief in someone else’s eyes.

Today, I am trying not to measure my recovery by how much I speak, but by how willing I am to be present—whether I’m the one carrying the message or the one being carried by it. I trust that the God of my understanding knows my needs, even when my mouth is closed and my hands are clenched.

When I cannot ask for help, I can still sit in the circle. Sometimes that’s enough for help to find me.

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Endigar 1021

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on August 8, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Sep 07:

I never thought much about Tradition Seven, which says that every group ought to be fully self-supporting. I thought it referred only to paying the rent. But recently I was involved with a group that maintained itself financially and still was not fully self-supporting because no one would commit to service. I already held several positions, and when my various terms expired, no one was willing to take my place. I made what felt like the responsible choice for myself and stepped down anyway. The meeting closed. In my opinion, a group that cannot fill its service positions is not fully self-supporting.

Today, in other, more flourishing groups, I have a greater appreciation of my responsibility to this Tradition. I believe that as we nurture our groups, we nurture and empower ourselves. We can make a contribution; we can make choices that help us to allow healing in ourselves and others.

Today’s Reminder

There’s more to maintaining a fully self-supporting Al-Anon group than just paying the rent. Continuity of service is important to our common welfare. Today I will think about the contribution I am making to my home group.

“I can support my group in a number of ways. When the basket is passed, I can give what I can. Just as important, I can give my time and moral support to help make ours the kind of group I want to belong to.” – Alateen—a day at a time

END OF QUOTE—————————————

Every group ought to be fully self-supporting without resorting to outside contributions. The spirit of tradition seven is that the group and its autonomy are essential for its member individuals. Part of protecting individual recovery of one’s truest self is to support the most intimate group with personal time and resource. It is also a good litmus test of the vibrancy of one’s progress in the program. The person with untreated alcoholism or addiction is obsessively selfish and prone to isolation. All the traditions test the potency of the 12 Steps in an individual’s life.

So I ask myself today:

– Am I a guest in this program, or a steward of it?
– Do I give only when I’m inspired—or also when I’m responsible?
– Is my recovery group something I take from, or something I help carry?

I’m not here to burn out or martyr myself. But I am here to take part in the sacred exchange that is community. When I offer my service, even in small ways, I reinforce the scaffolding that holds this whole miraculous thing together.

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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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