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Endigar 975

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , on June 13, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Aug 02:

My overwhelming desire for control becomes glaringly obvious when I am tempted to control my group. I decide that I know what is best for all of us, or that I am the only one who truly understands the Traditions, or that I know what newcomers need to hear and I alone must make sure they hear it. I may view this as a finely-developed sense of responsibility, but my attitudes and actions still amount to a form of dominance.

The Second Tradition says, “For our group purpose there is but one authority – a loving God as He may express Himself in our group conscience. Our leaders are but trusted servants; they do not govern.” We strive to conduct our meetings as a fellowship of equals and to practice rotation of leadership. No single member has the right to take charge.

When I insist upon having my way, I am tampering with the spiritual nature of Al-Anon as a whole. Just as my Higher Power guides me in my daily life, a Power greater than myself is working within my group through the voices of its members.

Today’s Reminder

I am only one voice in a thriving worldwide fellowship. When in doubt, I will defer to the wisdom of the group conscience.

“Any attempt to manage or direct is likely to have disastrous consequences for group harmony.” ~ Alcoholism, the Family Disease

END OF QUOTE—————————————

In recovery, I often confront the illusion of control—the feeling that I must be the one to steer the ship, to manage the course of others, and to mold situations to fit my vision of how things should unfold. This impulse, disguised as responsibility, betrays my underlying need for dominance. It’s a need rooted in fear, a fear that if I do not assert my way, things will fall apart, that others will falter in ways I cannot control.

The Second Tradition helps me to recognize that the true power within our fellowship is not rooted in one individual’s will but in the collective guidance of a Higher Power, expressed through the voices and experiences of all those present. The Tradition gently reminds me that we are all equals here, each a thread in the fabric of a larger tapestry, woven together by a shared purpose: healing and growth.

The group conscience is the true guide here, and in my moments of doubt or uncertainty, it is the wisdom of the collective that I must trust. My voice is one among many, and when I am tempted to push others into my vision of the best route, I risk overshadowing the very essence of fellowship. In recovery, I am reminded that my role is not to lead alone but to serve in connection, not to manage but to listen, to surrender my need for control and allow the group’s collective wisdom to shape the path forward.

And so, when I am tempted to take charge, I pause. I breathe. I listen. And I defer to the wisdom of the group, trusting that in doing so, I align myself with the spiritual force that guides our shared journey.

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Endigar 974

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

From Courage to Change of Aug 01:

I came to Al-Anon to discover how to get a loved one to stop drinking, hoping that my life would then return to normal. In Al-Anon I came to understand that I did not cause alcoholism, I can’t control it, and I can’t cure it. But I can apply the Twelve Step to my own life so that I can find sanity and contentment whether the alcoholic is still drinking or not. This is why, in Al-Anon, the focus must be on me.

I soon discovered that I had problems of my own that needed attention: I had undergone some unhealthy changes as I attempted to cope with the disease of alcoholism. These changes had occurred to slowly and subtly that I had not been aware of them. I shared openly about this in Al-Anon meetings and became willing to let go of attitudes that no longer seemed appropriate. With the help of my Higher Power, I began to she self-destructive habits. In time I felt I had regained my true self. I began to grow again.

Today’s Reminder

I do not respond well when someone tries to impose their will on me; why have I tried to impose my will on those around me? There is only one person I am responsible for, and that is me. There is only one person who can make my life as full as possible – that, too, is me.

“Today I will keep hands off and keep my focus where it belongs, on me.” ~ . . . In All Our Affairs

END OF QUOTE—————————————

When I first came to Al-Anon, I was bargaining with God.

Just help them gain sobriety and sanity. Then everything can go back to normal.
That was my silent prayer. That was my illusion.

But recovery, like truth, does not bargain. It gently dismantles the scaffolding of denial, one beam at a time, until I’m standing alone in the clearing. And there, I saw it:
The obsession to solve life with chemicals wasn’t the only problem.
I had changed, too.

I had become someone I didn’t recognize—tensed up, hyper-vigilant, consumed with fixing, managing, anticipating. I thought I was helping. I thought I was strong. But I was bending in ways that were breaking me.

Al-Anon didn’t offer me a formula for saving anyone else. It offered me a mirror. And for the first time, I looked into it not to judge, but to see—with honesty, with humility, and eventually… with grace.

That’s when the shift began.

Not overnight. But in layers. Like molting skin, old habits and roles began to slough off. In Something simpler emerged.
Something closer to the me I had misplaced.

And I began to grow again.

That phrase—the focus must be on me—used to sound selfish. Now I know it’s sacred. Not because others don’t matter, but because I do. Because sanity and serenity can’t grow in soil poisoned by control and codependence.

And here’s the hard truth I’ve had to face in Step Work and in silence:
I don’t respond well when someone tries to impose their will on me.
So why did I believe it was love to do that to someone else?

I let go. Not with bitterness, but with reverence. I keep my hands off other people’s journeys and place them gently on my own heart. That is my territory. That is my sacred ground.

Because there is only one soul I am truly responsible for. And when I take that responsibility seriously—not as burden, but as blessing—I become whole again.

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Endigar 973

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on June 11, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Jul 31:

A source of friction between my alcoholic loved one and myself has always been housekeeping. I usually feel so overwhelmed by all the things that need doing that I am not able to get organized. So when he drinks, he rages about whatever needs dusting, scrubbing, or picking up.

Recently we were cleaning up the kitchen after a big breakfast. Without thinking, I moved the containers on one refrigerator shelf and wiped u a spill. No big deal, but one part of the refrigerator was now clean. I thought, “Maybe that’s all there is to cleaning house. If I’d do one small task at a time, I’d get something accomplished.” Then the light went on inside my head. That’s what “One Day at a Time” is all about! When I take one day, one moment, one task at a time and really concentrate on it, a lot more gets done.

Today’s Reminder

“Remembering that we can only live one day at a time removes the burdens of the past, keeps our attention on the present, and keeps us from fearing the future.” ~ This Is Al-Anon

END OF QUOTE—————————————

Housekeeping has never just been about mess. It has always been laced with something heavier—shame, powerlessness, old arguments, and the volatile dance of trying to maintain control in a house where chaos walks in on two legs and smells like alcohol.

When that alcoholic or addictive spirit takes on human form, the house becomes a war zone of dust and blame. I see the crumbs on the counter, but I also see the accusation behind blurry eyes. And I feel the overwhelm rise like a tide—everything out of place, everything needing me, and me… too tired to know where to begin.

But recovery has taught me to look for grace in the smallest places.

One spill. One shelf. One act I didn’t plan but allowed. And in that moment, I wasn’t fixing the house or calming the storm. I was simply responding to what was in front of me—not the ghosts of yesterday’s rage or the mountain of tomorrow’s tasks. Just one human moment of tending.

Maybe this is all recovery is: one shelf at a time. One breath at a time. One sacred pause between panic and presence.

Because that’s the real mess I’m trying to clean: not just the counters, but the inner world cluttered with fear and guilt. When I try to clean it all at once, I break. But when I let myself live “One Day at a Time,” I come back to myself. Not perfect. Not done. But present.

That slogan isn’t just about staying sober—it’s about staying available to life. It frees me from the tyranny of “never enough” and places me into the holiness of just this. This task. This breath. This moment.

And strangely, when I stop trying to clean up the whole world, I actually start to see progress. The kitchen shines. My heart softens. My spirit steadies.

I don’t need to fear the future or relive the past. I just need to wipe the shelf in front of me—and bless it as enough.

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Endigar 972

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on June 10, 2025 by endigar

From Courage to Change of Jul 30:

I’ve often heard that happiness is an inside job, and, much of the time, I can be as happy as I diced to be. Yet I have often found happiness fleeting. I know it’s unrealistic to expect to be happy all the time, but I think I might achieve this goal much more often if I made a firmer commitment to my decision to be happy. Instead, I choose happiness and then abandon my choice at the first sign of trouble. How deep can my commitment be if I all eve slight obstacles to rob me of my sense of well-being?

Commitment takes work; it is a discipline. When I make a decision, I must ask myself what I really want and if I am willing to work for it. Old habits are hard to break. If i have a long-standing habit of responding to problems by feeling like a helpless victim, it may not be easy to stand by my decision to be happy. A change of attitude sometimes helps: Perhaps I can look at problems as opportunities to commit more deeply to my choices. In other words, every obstacle can prompt me to assert that I really mean it – I do want to be happy.

Today’s Reminder

When I make a choice and then stick with it, I teach myself that my choices do have meaning and I am worthy of trust. I have an opportunity to make a commitment to one of my choices today.

“Our very life depends on everything’s recurring till we answer from within.” ~ Robert Frost

END OF QUOTE—————————————

Sometimes I think recovery asks me not just to get sober, but to get real—to start telling the truth about what I really want, and how easily I abandon it when life pokes at old wounds.

This realization hits me in the gut, because I have chosen happiness before. I’ve whispered it in prayers, journaled it into affirmations, even tried to fake it till I made it. But under stress, I still default to that familiar old posture: the slumped shoulders of the victim, the inner narrative that says, “See? Nothing good lasts.”

But I don’t want to live like that anymore. That’s why I show up to meetings. That’s why I inventory. That’s why I pray.

Because happiness, for me, isn’t about getting what I want—it’s about learning to want what I’ve got. To bless it. To be in right relationship with my life, even when it’s inconvenient or painful or just plain boring.

And yeah—it takes commitment. Real, grown-ass, spiritual discipline. Not because I’m trying to be perfect, but because I’m trying to be free.

And every time I choose to recommit—to this path, to my recovery, to the decision to live awake—I remind myself:
I am not powerless over my own response.
I am not the victim of every passing emotion.
I am not who I used to be.

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Endigar 971

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

From Courage to Change of Jul 29:

Al-Anon is a spiritual program based on no particular religion, and no religious belief is required. To those of us who have had less than wonderful experiences with religion in the past, this freedom is important. Spirituality doesn’t have to imply a particular philosophy or moral code; it simply means that there is a Power greater than ourselves upon which we can come to rely. Whether we call this a Higher Power, God, good orderly direction, Allah, the universe, or another name, it is vital to our recovery that we come to believe in a Power greater than ourselves (Step Two). Until we do, the rest of the Steps will not make much sense.

This Higher Power might be likened to the electricity that operates the lights and machinery of our recovery. It’s not necessary to understand what electricity actually is to enjoy its use – all we need to do is turn on the switch!

Today’s Reminder

I may be seeking a more loving God in who I can place my trust, or facing a challenge that puts my long-established beliefs to a test, or struggling with the very idea of a Higher Power. Whatever I believe, I can pray for greater faith today. Just that little act of willingness can work miracles.

“When I have at last realized that my problems are too big to solve by myself . . . I need not be alone with them if I am willing to accept help from a Higher Power.” ~ Al-Anon’s Twelve Steps & Twelve Traditions

END OF QUOTE—————————————

When I first walked into the recovery rooms, the mention of a “Higher Power” stirred something unsettled inside me. The wounds I carried from past religious experiences were still fresh in many places, and I didn’t want to trade one dogma for another. But the 12 Step program didn’t ask me to convert, confess, or conform. It asked only that I be willing.

Willing to believe that maybe—just maybe—I wasn’t the highest authority in my life.

The idea that I didn’t have to define my Higher Power in religious terms gave me permission to breathe again. In my darkest moments, I had already exhausted the power of self. I had been trying to fix what was broken using the very mind and habits that were shaped by the chaos. And when that stopped working—when control gave out and my answers failed me—there was space for something else.

Today, I don’t have to understand my Higher Power. I only need to use the switch—to ask, to pause, to listen, to reach beyond myself. My recovery doesn’t require theological precision. It requires honesty, openness, and a flicker of willingness.

Sometimes, I don’t even know what I’m praying to. I just know that the act of reaching outward and upward does something. It opens my clenched fists. It interrupts my spirals. It softens my self-reliance.

And maybe that’s the miracle.

Recovery has taught me that spirituality is not about arriving at certainty. It’s about showing up with humility, again and again, asking for help. And when I do that—even when my faith is the size of a mustard seed—I am not alone. That’s enough for today.

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Endigar 970 ~ The Hundredth Blow

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

From Courage to Change of Jul 28:

A stonecutter may strike a rock ninety-nine times with no apparent effect, not even a crack on the surface. Yet with the hundredth blow, the rock splits in two. It was not the final blow that did the trick, but all that had gone before.

The same is true of Al-Anon recovery. Perhaps I am working on accepting that alcoholism is a disease, or learning to detach, or struggling with self-pity. I may pursue a goal for months without obvious results and become convinced that I am wasting my time. But if I continue going to meetings, sharing about my struggle, taking it one day at a time, and being patient with myself, I may awaken to find that I have changed, seemingly overnight. Suddenly I have the acceptance, detachment, or serenity I’ve been seeking. The results may have revealed themselves abruptly, but I know that l those months of faith and hard work made the changes possible.

Today’s Reminder

We are often reminded to keep coming back. Today I will remember that this not only applies to meetings, but to learning the new attitudes and behavior that are the long term benefits of Al-Anon recovery. I may not see the results today, but I can trust that I am making progress.

“Try to be patient with yourself and your family. It took a long time for the disease of alcoholism to affect each and every one and it may take a long time for everyone to recover.” ~ Youth and the Alcoholic Parent

END OF QUOTE—————————————

There are days I feel like nothing is changing—like I’m chipping away at stone with bare hands. I say the affirmations, I read the literature, I show up to the meetings, and still… the old instincts return. The rage. The worry. The silence that suffocates instead of soothes.

But then I remember the stonecutter.

Ninety-nine blows with no crack to show for it. Not even a sliver. But on the hundredth—split clean down the middle. It wasn’t magic. It wasn’t luck. It was the accumulation of every attempt before.

That is how my recovery feels. That is what it is.

When trauma rules me, I become stone—frozen, resistant, hard. But recovery hands me the hammer. Every surrender is a strike. Every boundary I set, every time I detach with love, every time I forgive myself for relapsing into old thought patterns—that’s another strike. Quiet. Invisible. Building something I can’t yet see.

Sometimes it feels like nothing’s working. I get tired. I forget why I started. I think maybe I’m just one of those people who doesn’t “get better.” But I’m learning now—“suddenly” is never really sudden. It’s just the first moment I notice how far I’ve come.

This path isn’t linear. It’s circular. It’s layered. It’s sacred. Each day I choose to return—to a meeting, to a principle, to patience—is a day I say yes to healing, even when it doesn’t feel like it. And that’s enough.

So I’ll keep showing up.

I’ll keep striking the stone.

Because one day, without warning, the thing I thought could never shift—will.

And I’ll know: it wasn’t just the final blow. It was all of them.

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Endigar 969

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

From Courage to Change of Jul 27:

I take to heart the words in the Suggested Closing that say, ” . . . let there be no gossip or criticism of one another.” I try to leave my judgmental attitude at the door. Unfortunately, I pick it up again the instant I get into my car after the meeting.

Nobody drives well enough to suit me. The car ahead of me goes too slowly, and I am forced to get very close and push it along. The driver behind me does the same to me. Not to be intimidated, I swear at him and rive even slower. Don’t they know my rules of the road? In other words, through constant criticism and expectations of others, I isolate myself and act like a victim.

Whatever happened to practicing the Al-Anon principles in all my affairs? D I really think I can fully reap the benefits of the program by practicing unconditional love for a single hour two or three times a week? It may be a start, but only a start.

Today’s Reminder

I can’t keep thoughts from coming into my head, but I have a choice about whether or not to entertain those thoughts for the next hour. Am I making the choices I want to make, or is habit making my choices for me? A change of attitude means a change in my thinking. I will look at the principles I am practicing today.

“We must alter our lives in order to alter our hearts, for it is impossible to live one way and pray another.” ~ William Law

END OF QUOTE—————————————

Sometimes, ritualized words become mental wallpaper. “Let there be no gossip or criticism of one another.” Is it possible that these words or more than protective role playing to make the meetings a safe place, a v training ground of vulnerability? Could this actually be a spiritual invitation? A compass of sorts. Can the connective words in this circle of overcomers be transformed into daily living? I indeed have difficulty with those who hinder my momentum while I seek to become one with my vehicle’s internal combustion engine. The machine mind pushes me forward. The oracle that is sensitive to the spiritual quest is tucked away. Death becomes my god. The merciless clock becomes an angelic enforcer of “productive” isolation.

The truth is, these aren’t random acts of frustration—they’re patterns of isolation disguised as righteousness. They’re me choosing indignation over serenity. They’re me handing the steering wheel over to habit instead of principle. I say I want recovery. But how do I expect to receive the promises if I only practice the program when it’s easy—inside a meeting room, for a single protected hour? This work isn’t about performance; it’s about transformation. And transformation requires more than nodding along when the readings are comforting. It requires gut-level honesty when my defects show up at 45 mph with the blinker still on.

I can pause and intelligently ask: Am I willing to grow past the hour-long serenity? Can I bring the same grace I show a trembling newcomer into my interactions with strangers who don’t follow “my rules”? My mind will think what it thinks—but I have agency over what I dwell on, what I feed, and what I choose to let go.

I wish to release my apish grunts. I pause. I look at my thoughts. I ask if they’re rooted in love or in fear, in connection or in control. And if they’re not the thoughts I want to live by, I don’t have to follow them down the road.

Recovery is available in every lane—if I’m willing to yield to it.

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Endigar 968

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

From Courage to Change of Jul 26:

I am learning to identify illusions that make my life unmanageable. For example, I wanted to stop controlling people and situations, but the harder I tried, the more I felt as if I were knocking my head against a wall. Then someone mentioned that I couldn’t give up something I didn’t have. Perhaps I could try giving up the illusion of control. Once I saw that my attempts to exercise power were based on illusions, it was easier to let go and let God.

Another illusion is that I have a big hole inside and I must fill it with something from outside myself. Compulsively shopping, obsessing about relationships, trying to fix everyone else’s problems – these are some of the ways I’ve tried to fill this hole. Yet the problem is spiritual emptiness and must be filled from within. It wasn’t until I saw through the illusion that I was deficient and needed to look outside myself for wholeness, that I began to heal.


Today’s Reminder

Today, if I hear myself thinking that I am not good enough or that I need something outside myself to make me whole, I’ll know that I am listening to illusions. Today I can call an Al-Anon friend and come back to reality.

“. . . human beings, by changing the inner attitudes of their minds, can change the outer aspects of their lives.” ~ William James

END OF QUOTE—————————————

My work in recovery is not just a story of struggle—but a series of quiet turning points, points where I take a breath between battles. I take time to recognize the significance of genuine expression. I realized that any of us, myself especially, when subjected to prolonged periods of internal abuse, like the alcoholic written about in The Doctor’s Opinion, soon find that they “cannot after a time differentiate the true from the false.”

There’s a sacred power in beginning to name illusions. In early recovery, the lines between illusion and reality often blur, and the pain feels real enough to confuse the two. That’s why this moment—this realization—is profound: I couldn’t give up control because I never truly had it. That kind of truth doesn’t just land in the mind—it softens the fists we’ve kept clenched for years.

And then there’s the hole—the aching, familiar void we all try to outrun or out-buy or out-fix. I know that urge, to chase wholeness in others, in things, in saving or seducing or pleasing. But this realization reminds me that spiritual emptiness is not a flaw—it’s a calling. A whisper that we are ready to return to ourselves. Not to fill the hole with something else, but to meet the space within with light, attention, and care.

When I hear the old voices whisper: You’re not enough. You need more. Fix it fast.—I will pause. I will know this is illusion speaking. And I will return to what is real: connection. Friendship. God. And the quiet truth that I am already whole, even as I heal.

This is not the end of the work. But it is the end of the lie.

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Endigar 967 ~ From the Disease to the Blade of Grass

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

My disease made me a fortress. My recovery made me a field.

The Life of My Disease vs. The Life of Recovery

1. From Isolated Hyper-Awareness to Collective Awareness

In the disease:
I was hyper-aware of everything—especially myself. How I looked, how I was perceived, what I was owed, who wronged me. I lived in my own head like a sniper in a tower. Always scanning. Always separate. I didn’t want connection—I wanted control.
In recovery:
I am just one of many. I can come down from the tower. I find healing in being part of something larger. When I share honestly and listen openly, I become we, not just I. I learn that my pain is not unique—and neither is my hope.

“You are no longer alone.” And thank God for that.

2. From Parasitically Opportunistic to Humble and Replaceable

In the disease:
I used people. I watched for weaknesses. I took what I could and twisted what I had to. Everything and everyone was a means to an end. Even when I showed up, it was often to get something—attention, pity, money, forgiveness I hadn’t earned.
In recovery:
I learn to give without needing return. I’m not here to feed off the group—I’m here to nourish it. Like a blade of grass, I don’t demand applause. I serve because I’m grateful. If I disappear tomorrow, the grass keeps growing. That’s not sad—that’s spiritual.

“Self-seeking will slip away.” And it does, if I stay willing.

3. From Dominance of Personality to Principles Before Personalities

In the disease:
I was the center of the universe. Loud or quiet, charming or angry—it was all about me. My story. My pain. My rules. Even when I hated myself, I needed to be the star.
In recovery:
I learn to step back. Principles lead, not personalities. I don’t need to be right to be okay. I don’t need to be liked to belong. The message is stronger than the messenger. I follow spiritual laws now—not my moods, not my ego.

“We are not a glum lot,” but we are not a cult of personality either.

4. From Rigid Embrace of the System to Teachable Simplicity

In the disease:
I clung to systems that justified my brokenness—mental labels, excuses, patterns, even self-pity. I would rather be right in dysfunction than wrong and changing. I was rigid. I called it identity, but it was really fear.
In recovery:
I become teachable. Like grass bending in the wind, I can change without breaking. I listen. I try new ways. I stop pretending I know what’s best. I start asking what’s true.
It’s not weakness—it’s wisdom.

“Some of us tried to hold on to our old ideas, and the result was nil.” I don’t want nil anymore. I want growth.

It seems then, that recovery isn’t about becoming the strongest, smartest, or most spiritual.
It’s about becoming a blade of grass—rooted, connected, growing together.
And it starts by surrendering the lonely, hardened, parasitic life of the disease.

Am I able to choose simplicity over spectacle? Connection over control?
Can I become the field of We?

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Endigar 966

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

From Courage to Change of Jul 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 lean 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 prince that is too great to pay for peace . . . One cannot pay the price of self-respect.” ~ Woodrow Wilson

END OF QUOTE—————————————

I know what it’s like to say “yes” when everything in me is screaming “no,” and then carry the weight of that quiet betrayal inside myself. The approval I was chasing always came at too high a price: my peace, my boundaries, my dignity.

Recovery taught me that this pattern wasn’t just about weakness—it was about survival. Somewhere along the line, I had internalized the idea that my value came from being agreeable, accommodating, small. But underneath that surface compliance, I was stockpiling rage and shame. I was afraid to be honest, because honesty might have made me look unlovable, or even worse—disposable.

When I started practicing the program, the word courage hit differently. It wasn’t a grand, dramatic thing. It was quiet. Steady. A spiritual muscle I had to learn to flex. Turning to a Higher Power helped me realize I didn’t have to conjure that courage on my own. It was something I could receive—if I was willing.

Learning to say “no” with love—not defiance, not bitterness, just clarity—has been one of the most sacred disciplines of my recovery. And letting go of the fantasy that I could please everyone freed me to meet the real version of myself. Not the one polished up for applause, but the one who breathes deeply, speaks truth, and trusts that that’s enough.

Today, I ask myself—not out of judgment, but out of care—Why am I saying this? Who is it serving? Am I betraying myself to stay in someone else’s good graces? And I remember: the truth I’ve lived through, the healing I’ve done, the boundary I draw—that’s all I have to give. That is my offering. And it’s enough.

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