Step Two, HP and Me

When confronted with Step Two my initial reaction was less than pleasant and much of what I said out loud was not appropriate for any social situation. My personal issue was that I was reading words that were not there. It may as well have read, “Was told that Jesus Christ was the only one who could fix me.” Instantly all of my opinions about God and organized religion and hypocrites flood my head. The repulsion, the anger, and the fear drown out the simple message of the step. I convince myself that I know what the hell is going on here and I’m not doing it. And so, I become unmovable. 


To think of it in these terms was getting ahead of myself in this process, but the short detour was part of the pathway to moving forward. I think that conjuring up these old images was the issue I’d had with this step in the past. But this is not where I want to be, yet. For me I had to have it pointed out to me that developing my concept of this God, as I understand Him, is Step Three. We’re only on Step Two. So rather than sabotage my progress with old ideas, once again I had to get out of the way and take the path of least resistance.


Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity. The first thing that I had to look at was my belief system. I had a childhood filled with violence. I had an adolescence filled with booze and drug addled rebellion. I had an early adulthood filled with reckless abandon. I believed there was nothing wrong with my drinking because I was owed a good time. I deserved it. If you’d had the life I’d had, you’d be like me too. I came to believe that there may be plenty wrong with me, but it was everyone else’s fault.
  
Those Powers greater than myself, they were the problem. They wanted to control me. They wanted to take away my fun. They wanted to place the blame on me.  Those Powers would tell me to sit down and shut up. They would tell me that I had to take responsibility for my actions. I couldn’t be bothered. I had nothing to be sorry for.


As for the idea of being restored to sanity, well I had ideas on how to get there. First of all, put everyone who had harmed me in front of me and then give me the means to make their lives a living hell. That would make me feel better. When it came to my drinking, just shut up and mind your own business. That will give me some peace and quiet. And isn’t that what sanity is? No one constantly on your back about what you did and how much you drank and where did all your money go?
  
In my skewed perceptions, I couldn’t acknowledge the concept of an intangible Power greater than myself. I associated that phrase with authority figures. All the cops, teachers, parents, all of them were just trying to hold me down, trying to control me with their rules. When I finally stopped struggling against the imaginary restraints, when I finally wore myself out, then and only then was I able to hear the truth in my own words when I related different things that had happened to me.


When I considered the number of times I had woke up in my own vomit and had not choked to death while I was passed out, was that not a sign of something greater than myself protecting me? Was I still going to insist that it was just dumb luck that I was laying a certain way that allowed all the bile to come out of my mouth instead of going back into my windpipe?
  
When I thought about my blackouts, waking up in my bed with no memory of how I got there, could I still deny the existence of a power greater than myself? After all, something had to have kept me from falling down a flight of stairs and bashing my skull in. When I stepped off the curb, could I say with confidence that I was the one who kept myself from walking head long into traffic? When I was on the train platform, could I explain how I could have stood at the edge of the platform without falling onto the tracks or in front of the train as it pulled into the station?


When I wrote out the things that I had done that could have ended my life, I couldn’t deny it any longer. There was a Power greater than myself at work here. While it may not have been a physical form of protection, there was something looking over me that was stronger than luck or coincidence. How could I rationally explain away these facts that were before me in black and white? I couldn’t, especially when I was always the first one to admit that there are things in the world that are beyond our comprehension.  If I was willing to believe in something like Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster, then why couldn’t I believe in a Power greater than myself?


Once again, as I moved down this path of least resistance and just stopped and breathed and sat with this new idea of a force, a Power greater than myself, I could hear the static in my head turn down a notch. I could feel my body relax ever so slightly. For the first time in a long time, I felt something akin to hope. With hope, I didn’t feel quite as unhinged as I did before.


This was the beginning of my restoration to sanity. With it came an understanding of how things work in the real world, not my drunken suits-me-fine world. There are simple tasks that I can do, like making my bed or doing my dishes, help maintain my sanity. I continually strive to educate myself, to keep moving forward in my career and life. That sense of accomplishment gives me a greater sense of self and that helps maintain my sanity. I had to learn how to talk to people, but more importantly, I had to learn how to listen. Being able to admit that I don’t know everything helps maintain my sanity.


I have seen someone die in the parking lot of a hospital from an alcoholic seizure. Even seeing someone hemorrhaging from every opening of their body wasn’t enough to convince me that alcohol will kill me. When I went out on a relapse, it was the farthest thing from my mind. Unlike that moment when I learned not to touch the hot stove, perhaps seeing that person die in front of me wasn’t enough because I wasn’t emotionally connected to the lesson.


I’m not smart enough to know how to fix the world.  I’m not an authority on finance or romance. I’m not an expert in the areas of psychology, philosophy or religion. I only know what I have learned from those times that I was paying attention. I am only an expert on myself. Even then, my knowledge is questionable. Thus, with the care of a Power greater than myself, I have daily reminders that humility is the key to being teachable.  And knowledge, if used correctly, can be the key to a life of sanity.