Today was another Al- Anon meeting, this one a discussion meeting. This one was especially beneficial, as it tackled the stuff I've been dancing around all week. Not so much "what is God" as "how do you hear God" and "how do you know you're on the right path."
Some of the things said really struck me. One person's story could've been pulled from my mouth. (Not their exact words:) 'I don't pray. I'll wish you luck, send good vibes, and hope for you. I guess that's my form of prayer.' I've gotten better about true prayer. I still can't do the come to Jeebus, holy holy stuff. That always smacked me more as showing off. I will; however, let loose "God, help!" or "please let them be ok" or "where to from here?" I just refuse to "Oh, praise Jeebus, holy of holies, hear my loud prayer, Amen."
Another person mentioned a change in their prayer style, going from "I want, I need, I demand" to "what is Your will?" I've noticed myself making that transition, from "Fix this," "Do this," "all I need is this" to "help me do Your will," and "what is the right path," and, admittedly "please do this. I want this so badly. I realize it may not be right, but please let it be right."
My sponsor's reading had to do with the free will of other people. Heh. That's one of my reasons for letting go of my control of the world.
There were people there on their first meeting. Hearing them, I was struck by how far I'd come (and how much of me I still heard in them.)
My sponsor gave me some kind advice, and heard one of my more recent fears regarding fucking up my potential hypothetical kids. She introduced an idea that made perfect sense and was a foreign concept at the same time: treat myself to something positive when I handle something difficult in Al Anon or on here. The idea made sense, but it had just never occurred to me to give myself a treat for good behavior. I never got rewards for good behavior as a kid, so it never occurred to give them to myself. Of course, it never processed that I didn't get rewarded as a kid, just not punished, until she mentioned it. One of those disconnects between my childhood and a normal childhood. You can't miss what you never had, so they say.
Showing posts with label third step. Show all posts
Showing posts with label third step. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Step 3, Processing
I went to a park earlier, to walk and try to process the "life" part of step 3. I could handle the turning over my problems, even mostly handle turning over my will. Turning over all of my life invoked the 3 year old in me: "nuh-uh, that's MINE."
So I walk. And thought, and (surreptitiously) watched kids play. I picked up pecans, and passed them from hand to hand. With each pecan that fell, or that I tossed away, another obstacle fell. I'd like to say I know what thought process it was that unlocked being able to hand over my life. I don't remember it. It happened all of 45 minutes ago, if that, and I don't remember it. I just know that by the time I only had one pecan left and had made 3 circuits around the park, I had not only figured it out, but done it. I found serenity, even if only temporarily. The last half circuit was bizarre (I may have been going into a hypoglycemic reaction), but euphoric. No. Not euphoric. Not worrying. Happy. Existing without anxiety or worry.
Even hours later, I've maintained that calm happiness and lack of anxiety. It seems surreal that I can do this, but somehow, I did it and am doing it. If I think on it too much, the anxiety starts to return, I think because I start trying to yank control back from God by worrying. So, I try to find my center whenever I catch myself doing that.
Last question of Step 3 in the workbook:
How did forcing my will on others make the situation worse?
If I was successful in forcing my will, the other person felt displaced, or worse, disrespected. It hurt friendships and family bonds that were probably already in trouble from previous attempts to force my will. It also tended to make the other person feel angry and took away their free will. I may not like the decisions people make, but they should be free to make their own decisions. If they ask, then I can help. Forcing my will on them just makes tempers shorter, situations more volatile, and things go from bad to worse.
^I think that's the realization I came to as part of my walk this afternoon. It was a realization in terms of "do unto others as you'd have them do unto you," instead of my more frequent "do unto others lest they do unto you." You hafta let folks live their lives. To interfere not only would muck things up worse and possibly ruin a relationship, but you would be trying to remove their free will, which is never cool.
So I walk. And thought, and (surreptitiously) watched kids play. I picked up pecans, and passed them from hand to hand. With each pecan that fell, or that I tossed away, another obstacle fell. I'd like to say I know what thought process it was that unlocked being able to hand over my life. I don't remember it. It happened all of 45 minutes ago, if that, and I don't remember it. I just know that by the time I only had one pecan left and had made 3 circuits around the park, I had not only figured it out, but done it. I found serenity, even if only temporarily. The last half circuit was bizarre (I may have been going into a hypoglycemic reaction), but euphoric. No. Not euphoric. Not worrying. Happy. Existing without anxiety or worry.
Even hours later, I've maintained that calm happiness and lack of anxiety. It seems surreal that I can do this, but somehow, I did it and am doing it. If I think on it too much, the anxiety starts to return, I think because I start trying to yank control back from God by worrying. So, I try to find my center whenever I catch myself doing that.
Last question of Step 3 in the workbook:
How did forcing my will on others make the situation worse?
If I was successful in forcing my will, the other person felt displaced, or worse, disrespected. It hurt friendships and family bonds that were probably already in trouble from previous attempts to force my will. It also tended to make the other person feel angry and took away their free will. I may not like the decisions people make, but they should be free to make their own decisions. If they ask, then I can help. Forcing my will on them just makes tempers shorter, situations more volatile, and things go from bad to worse.
^I think that's the realization I came to as part of my walk this afternoon. It was a realization in terms of "do unto others as you'd have them do unto you," instead of my more frequent "do unto others lest they do unto you." You hafta let folks live their lives. To interfere not only would muck things up worse and possibly ruin a relationship, but you would be trying to remove their free will, which is never cool.
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Working the Book, Step 3, Part 6
When have I seen a Higher Power working in the Lives of those around me?
I have seen those around me who should be just as miserable as me, if not more, living happy, grateful lives because of their God.
I have seen pure miracles that science couldn't explain. My grandmother lived for years after her projected death date when she had cancer, although whether that was from spite, hope, or God, I'll never know. My middle sister found God (the God I don't care for) in jail, and seemingly can control herself (albeit not well) without meds now. I have seen my mother step back from the brink of the bridge.
I have seen minor miracles that some might call luck or coincidence, that timed suspiciously well with asking for help.
As much as I hate to admit it, the happiest, sanest people I know are the ones most devout in their devotions, be it God, the goodness of man, or love. They are also the ones that seem '"luckiest."
How do I use Step Three in my daily life?
I have to. If I don't, I worry at things and work myself into a giant ball of stress. Each day, each instant of stress, worry, or pain, I have to ask God "take this away. This is yours." There are problems where God says "I need to work through you to solve this." I can live with that, so long as I know I'm not shouldering the burden alone. There are days where it seems like God doesn't hear me, or won't hear me, where it seems I'll worry myself into a giant ball of stress. Those are the days where I know there is something inside, compounding what's outside, and that I need to attack what's inside and hand that to God before I can hand him what's outside. Some days, I need to hand him my whole damn life and say "Help, I can't." Then he sorts through the madness and gives me back what I can handle. Some days, I hand him tears. Some days, I hand him smiles. Most days, he gets a confused basket of yarn monsters, and I get back a couple balls of yarn to work with.
What have I experienced when I have turned my will and life over to the care of a Higher Power?
I swear I already answered this...It seems like this question asks the same thing as question 2 in Part 5. I guess they are different. One is "will" and "God," the other is "will and life" and "Higher Power." Still doesn't make sense that they ask it twice. I guess I'll attack turning over my life in this one.
Turning my life over has been a bitch, but overly simple at the same time. I think it's been so hard because it seems too easy. Things can't be easy. If it's easy, that means I messed up somewhere along the way. Yet, it is easy, in a way, to go "God, I can't do this, you take it." It's like the parent I never had, the one that helps me, as opposed to me having to help him. I think that is part of what makes it so difficult. I'm not used to having someone in authority say "here, I can help" and mean it. If I hear that, it's almost always a trick or not meant. Having some omnipotent being patiently sitting there, waiting to take and help me handle whatever I throw their way is mind boggling. Throwing bits and pieces has helped and, loathe as I am to admit it, served as a bit of an acid test. "Can God help me handle this? Ok, good. Can he help me with this bigger thing? Ok, good." I keep tossing my life to him and in the same breath saying "Ok, that's enough, give it back."
I recognize what must be love and serenity when I can manage to let him have my life for more than a split second. I'm slowly getting more of those moments as I can hand more of my life over to God. I yearn for the day that I can consistently walk in that serenity and love, but even the moment and seconds I'm getting are more than I had.
For someone with major trust issues and that wasn't even sure there was a god as of a month ago, I'd say I'm doing pretty damn good.
I have seen those around me who should be just as miserable as me, if not more, living happy, grateful lives because of their God.
I have seen pure miracles that science couldn't explain. My grandmother lived for years after her projected death date when she had cancer, although whether that was from spite, hope, or God, I'll never know. My middle sister found God (the God I don't care for) in jail, and seemingly can control herself (albeit not well) without meds now. I have seen my mother step back from the brink of the bridge.
I have seen minor miracles that some might call luck or coincidence, that timed suspiciously well with asking for help.
As much as I hate to admit it, the happiest, sanest people I know are the ones most devout in their devotions, be it God, the goodness of man, or love. They are also the ones that seem '"luckiest."
How do I use Step Three in my daily life?
I have to. If I don't, I worry at things and work myself into a giant ball of stress. Each day, each instant of stress, worry, or pain, I have to ask God "take this away. This is yours." There are problems where God says "I need to work through you to solve this." I can live with that, so long as I know I'm not shouldering the burden alone. There are days where it seems like God doesn't hear me, or won't hear me, where it seems I'll worry myself into a giant ball of stress. Those are the days where I know there is something inside, compounding what's outside, and that I need to attack what's inside and hand that to God before I can hand him what's outside. Some days, I need to hand him my whole damn life and say "Help, I can't." Then he sorts through the madness and gives me back what I can handle. Some days, I hand him tears. Some days, I hand him smiles. Most days, he gets a confused basket of yarn monsters, and I get back a couple balls of yarn to work with.
What have I experienced when I have turned my will and life over to the care of a Higher Power?
I swear I already answered this...It seems like this question asks the same thing as question 2 in Part 5. I guess they are different. One is "will" and "God," the other is "will and life" and "Higher Power." Still doesn't make sense that they ask it twice. I guess I'll attack turning over my life in this one.
Turning my life over has been a bitch, but overly simple at the same time. I think it's been so hard because it seems too easy. Things can't be easy. If it's easy, that means I messed up somewhere along the way. Yet, it is easy, in a way, to go "God, I can't do this, you take it." It's like the parent I never had, the one that helps me, as opposed to me having to help him. I think that is part of what makes it so difficult. I'm not used to having someone in authority say "here, I can help" and mean it. If I hear that, it's almost always a trick or not meant. Having some omnipotent being patiently sitting there, waiting to take and help me handle whatever I throw their way is mind boggling. Throwing bits and pieces has helped and, loathe as I am to admit it, served as a bit of an acid test. "Can God help me handle this? Ok, good. Can he help me with this bigger thing? Ok, good." I keep tossing my life to him and in the same breath saying "Ok, that's enough, give it back."
I recognize what must be love and serenity when I can manage to let him have my life for more than a split second. I'm slowly getting more of those moments as I can hand more of my life over to God. I yearn for the day that I can consistently walk in that serenity and love, but even the moment and seconds I'm getting are more than I had.
For someone with major trust issues and that wasn't even sure there was a god as of a month ago, I'd say I'm doing pretty damn good.
Monday, November 4, 2013
Working the Book, Step 3, Part 5
In what ways do I struggle with giving up my will?
I have trouble, deep trouble, not knowing what the future brings. Not knowing what to expect brings on anxiety, because my past was always so unpredictable. I need to remind myself that I wasn't controlling what happened anyways, and what I did try to control just screwed things up.
Admitting that my "brilliant" idea isn't the best step is a blow to the ego, and there are days I feel I only have my ego left. Then again, ego is where you get when you leave behind God.
I'm getting better, though. If I catch myself, and remind myself, with effort I can let go of what bothers me. An example actually happened last night. My husband was getting irritated and angry with a piece of technology that wasn't responding the way it should. My first urge was to run away from the bad emotions that could hurt me, even though he never has. My second response was to want to go and do anything I could to make it better. Instead of either, I closed my eyes and asked God to take it, to help him find his calm.
I still want to make things better and fix them on my own, because I keep forgetting that God is there and can fix things in ways that they need to be fixed, not the duct tape job I would do.
What has been my experience when I have turned my will over to the God of my understanding?
When I can accomplish it, I feel serenity, peace, calm, and all those other things I don't feel often enough. I get this feeling that everything will be ok. I find that I don't hafta try and fix what is broken, because something infinitely more powerful than myself can do it for me. Sometimes, God chooses me to do some or all of his work, but it feels better being a channel for the right work than trying to ram through the wrong thing that I think is right.
When I can accomplish it, I find that things go better than I could have dreamed, because God does miracles every day, even just the small ones. Even when what I wanted doesn't happen, something positive or a lesson comes out of it. I may not like the lesson, but it does make life easier to just hafta learn it once.
I have trouble, deep trouble, not knowing what the future brings. Not knowing what to expect brings on anxiety, because my past was always so unpredictable. I need to remind myself that I wasn't controlling what happened anyways, and what I did try to control just screwed things up.
Admitting that my "brilliant" idea isn't the best step is a blow to the ego, and there are days I feel I only have my ego left. Then again, ego is where you get when you leave behind God.
I'm getting better, though. If I catch myself, and remind myself, with effort I can let go of what bothers me. An example actually happened last night. My husband was getting irritated and angry with a piece of technology that wasn't responding the way it should. My first urge was to run away from the bad emotions that could hurt me, even though he never has. My second response was to want to go and do anything I could to make it better. Instead of either, I closed my eyes and asked God to take it, to help him find his calm.
I still want to make things better and fix them on my own, because I keep forgetting that God is there and can fix things in ways that they need to be fixed, not the duct tape job I would do.
What has been my experience when I have turned my will over to the God of my understanding?
When I can accomplish it, I feel serenity, peace, calm, and all those other things I don't feel often enough. I get this feeling that everything will be ok. I find that I don't hafta try and fix what is broken, because something infinitely more powerful than myself can do it for me. Sometimes, God chooses me to do some or all of his work, but it feels better being a channel for the right work than trying to ram through the wrong thing that I think is right.
When I can accomplish it, I find that things go better than I could have dreamed, because God does miracles every day, even just the small ones. Even when what I wanted doesn't happen, something positive or a lesson comes out of it. I may not like the lesson, but it does make life easier to just hafta learn it once.
Sunday, November 3, 2013
Working the Book, Step 3, Part 4
Even if I don't believe in a Higher Power the way other people do, how can I apply Step Three in my life?
By consistently reminding myself while I am a part of God, I am not God. I cannot change others. I do not have the omnipotent ability of changing people or people's thoughts.
By standing still and listening for that small voice in my subconscious, that part of God that is within me. If I can hear that part of me that is still undamaged, then I can hear God.
By knowing that it isn't prayer or loud Hallelujahs that get the Great Divine's attention, but that small, private "help!"
God is a part of me, and I am part of the 'verse. By remembering that I am not the center of the Universe, nor am I something to be ignored. "I am a leaf on the wind, watch how I soar." God's will is the wind.
By reminding myself every day, every instant, that I am not the one at the helm. God's the one steering this ship. If I try to take the helm, I might miss out on something wonderful and gorgeous the Great Divine had planned.
The anxiety of turning it over to the Great Divine, I'll admit, is still there. At the same time, in turning it over, the anxiety lessens to a manageable chunk. I keep reminding myself that this God is not the one I held a grudge against. I keep reminding myself that this Great Divine hasn't, and won't, abandoned me when I need that calm voice the most. This God will not punish me. He surrounds me with serenity and calm, even in the storm, and it is my choice on whether I breathe it in.
What role did the support of other Al- Anon members play in helping me find a God of my own understanding?
I mostly took this step before really getting involved in meetings. My sponsor was the one that really helped me dig through the wreckage of my faith for my candle light that was still burning. Her questions and shared wisdom/ experiences really helped me nail it down, and separate it from the grudge I held. Knowing that it really was ok to have a Great Divine thoroughly different from the Christian God I hated so much was a lifeline. While I'm well aware that my sci-fi/ Buddhist/ Wiccan God is not the one common for most, I'm ok with that. My sponsor, with what she shared, and the literature, with the people in there with a nonabramic God, helped me continue to climb my lifeline the way I need to. My God is the God I need.
Oddly enough, hearing others at meeting speak of, and to, the God I refused was something that also cemented my own belief. A sense of "well, it sure as hell ain't that! So what is it?" kept washing over me, forcing me to make decisions and choices that I thought I was happy to leave unanswered. I wanted to be able to say the Serenity prayer and know where it was going. I wanted all the God slogans to have somewhere to go.
How does practicing Step Three help to alleviate my fears?
I'm still working on "let go and let God." It's a daily struggle to just hand over something to my Higher Power. I've tried to handle and control everything on my own for so long that it's a hard habit to break. I'm getting there, though, piecemeal. Trust is also an issue, but I figure if I can trust the people in my life that haven't hurt me yet, I can trust a God who won't hurt me.
When I do succeed in handing over the issue to God, I realize that it isn't giving up on whatever or whoever it is. It isn't saying "fuck it, you handle this." It is saying "I need some help here." It is saying "this is beyond what I can control or handle." It is telling God and myself that this is something more in his court than mine. Do I like Step 3? Not particularly. It still smacks of defeat. I'm still trying to change my thinking that it's not defeat or losing, it's realizing that I was losing until I let God handle it, so now I'm winning. I think I'd like step 3 a lot more if it meant a guaranteed win or that things would work the way I want them to, but that's not how this works. Step 3 also means admitting that sometimes I will lose that battle to win a greater war. Step 3 is a trust that something that is not me, something that smacks of authority figure, knows what's going on and knows more than I what needs to happen. At the same time, it is me, because "I am a leaf on the wind." No wind, the leaf doesn't go anywhere.
By consistently reminding myself while I am a part of God, I am not God. I cannot change others. I do not have the omnipotent ability of changing people or people's thoughts.
By standing still and listening for that small voice in my subconscious, that part of God that is within me. If I can hear that part of me that is still undamaged, then I can hear God.
By knowing that it isn't prayer or loud Hallelujahs that get the Great Divine's attention, but that small, private "help!"
God is a part of me, and I am part of the 'verse. By remembering that I am not the center of the Universe, nor am I something to be ignored. "I am a leaf on the wind, watch how I soar." God's will is the wind.
By reminding myself every day, every instant, that I am not the one at the helm. God's the one steering this ship. If I try to take the helm, I might miss out on something wonderful and gorgeous the Great Divine had planned.
The anxiety of turning it over to the Great Divine, I'll admit, is still there. At the same time, in turning it over, the anxiety lessens to a manageable chunk. I keep reminding myself that this God is not the one I held a grudge against. I keep reminding myself that this Great Divine hasn't, and won't, abandoned me when I need that calm voice the most. This God will not punish me. He surrounds me with serenity and calm, even in the storm, and it is my choice on whether I breathe it in.
What role did the support of other Al- Anon members play in helping me find a God of my own understanding?
I mostly took this step before really getting involved in meetings. My sponsor was the one that really helped me dig through the wreckage of my faith for my candle light that was still burning. Her questions and shared wisdom/ experiences really helped me nail it down, and separate it from the grudge I held. Knowing that it really was ok to have a Great Divine thoroughly different from the Christian God I hated so much was a lifeline. While I'm well aware that my sci-fi/ Buddhist/ Wiccan God is not the one common for most, I'm ok with that. My sponsor, with what she shared, and the literature, with the people in there with a nonabramic God, helped me continue to climb my lifeline the way I need to. My God is the God I need.
Oddly enough, hearing others at meeting speak of, and to, the God I refused was something that also cemented my own belief. A sense of "well, it sure as hell ain't that! So what is it?" kept washing over me, forcing me to make decisions and choices that I thought I was happy to leave unanswered. I wanted to be able to say the Serenity prayer and know where it was going. I wanted all the God slogans to have somewhere to go.
How does practicing Step Three help to alleviate my fears?
I'm still working on "let go and let God." It's a daily struggle to just hand over something to my Higher Power. I've tried to handle and control everything on my own for so long that it's a hard habit to break. I'm getting there, though, piecemeal. Trust is also an issue, but I figure if I can trust the people in my life that haven't hurt me yet, I can trust a God who won't hurt me.
When I do succeed in handing over the issue to God, I realize that it isn't giving up on whatever or whoever it is. It isn't saying "fuck it, you handle this." It is saying "I need some help here." It is saying "this is beyond what I can control or handle." It is telling God and myself that this is something more in his court than mine. Do I like Step 3? Not particularly. It still smacks of defeat. I'm still trying to change my thinking that it's not defeat or losing, it's realizing that I was losing until I let God handle it, so now I'm winning. I think I'd like step 3 a lot more if it meant a guaranteed win or that things would work the way I want them to, but that's not how this works. Step 3 also means admitting that sometimes I will lose that battle to win a greater war. Step 3 is a trust that something that is not me, something that smacks of authority figure, knows what's going on and knows more than I what needs to happen. At the same time, it is me, because "I am a leaf on the wind." No wind, the leaf doesn't go anywhere.
A Treaty with God
Great Divine-
I know you've been reading all this and hearing everything that doesn't make it to the keyboard. I know I've gone back and forth on wanting your help several times.
I just don't know you. I talk big shit about what I think you might be, but the concept of a personal God still eludes me. I think I can handle that, though. I don't know that the personal God thing is a hurdle I need to jump. I'm ok with you as I see you.
I think I can see myself as something like a Jedi, or a piece of you, maybe a conduit for you andthe right path your will.
I've held a grudge against a version of You for quite some time. A grudge is only a grudge or vendetta if you put your energy into hating it. You hafta water, nurture, and feed that fury and hatred to make a grudge stick. I think I'm done with that grudge, or at least feeding it. I'm still not happy about it, and I can't say I'll ever agree with that aspect of You, but I think I can at least put down the sword. It will be hard not to water that grudge, I've done it for so long. That face is so common here, and the anger so familiar, it will be a tough cycle to break. With your help (and a "little help from my friends"), though, I think I can at least stop nurturing that grudge.
There's still more. I can't say I'll ever be able to worship any version of You. I acknowledge that You exist. I acknowledge that You want to help. I'll work with you, but as a team, none of this "bow down and lick my boot" shit. I realize it's a rather unequal team, you, the Omnipotent energy, and me, the scarred human, but then again, even Thor had the Avengers.
I guess what I'm saying is that I want a peace treaty and a work visa with You. You don't hafta come in through the cracks in the boards anymore, the door's open.
I guess I'm saying "I'm good with God."
Thanks,
Jen
I know you've been reading all this and hearing everything that doesn't make it to the keyboard. I know I've gone back and forth on wanting your help several times.
I just don't know you. I talk big shit about what I think you might be, but the concept of a personal God still eludes me. I think I can handle that, though. I don't know that the personal God thing is a hurdle I need to jump. I'm ok with you as I see you.
I think I can see myself as something like a Jedi, or a piece of you, maybe a conduit for you and
I've held a grudge against a version of You for quite some time. A grudge is only a grudge or vendetta if you put your energy into hating it. You hafta water, nurture, and feed that fury and hatred to make a grudge stick. I think I'm done with that grudge, or at least feeding it. I'm still not happy about it, and I can't say I'll ever agree with that aspect of You, but I think I can at least put down the sword. It will be hard not to water that grudge, I've done it for so long. That face is so common here, and the anger so familiar, it will be a tough cycle to break. With your help (and a "little help from my friends"), though, I think I can at least stop nurturing that grudge.
There's still more. I can't say I'll ever be able to worship any version of You. I acknowledge that You exist. I acknowledge that You want to help. I'll work with you, but as a team, none of this "bow down and lick my boot" shit. I realize it's a rather unequal team, you, the Omnipotent energy, and me, the scarred human, but then again, even Thor had the Avengers.
I guess what I'm saying is that I want a peace treaty and a work visa with You. You don't hafta come in through the cracks in the boards anymore, the door's open.
I guess I'm saying "I'm good with God."
Thanks,
Jen
Working the Book, Step 3, Part 3
What keeps/ kept me from surrendering to the Great Divine?
For a long time, it was that one word and all it's synonyms: "surrender." That meant I lost, I couldn't handle it, things were not just fine, and, worst of all, it meant biting back my pride and asking something for help. Surrender means you're conquered like a losing country, subject to obedience, authority, and obeisance. I was stronger than that. I was Rome, dammit! A superpower all my own, with subjects and allies (and no small number of enemies to conquer.) What I failed to remember was that even Rome failed when it spread itself too thin. I failed to remember that Rome, in it's Golden Era, helped more than it demanded. When it started demanding more than it gave, it failed, rather spectacularly. I was not Rome in its heyday. I was Rome in the era of the mad emperors.
Then there was that whole "God" business. I wasn't going to worship one damned thing, thankyouverymuch. Acknowledge? Sure. Work with? Maybe. Bow and scrape and lick His oh so holy feet? Fuck that noise.
How do I begin to trust a Power greater than myself?
There's that twitchy word again: "trust." I have trouble even trusting myself. How do I go about trusting something that could easily be construed as an imaginary friend?
I realized that my definition of God does not hafta be the Abramic, father figure who will beat you if you're bad. I realized my definition of God didn't even hafta be humanoid. A spirit that moves around and through me and my actions? A God as large as the 'Verse and as small as that still, quiet "maybe" voice? A god closer to being wind than Dad with the belt? That's more my speed.
I can trust the energy of the 'Verse. It has seen everything and knows what my next step should be. I'm reminded of a Star Wars joke when I think of the 'Verse- the Force (or 'Verse) like duct tape: it has a Dark Side, a Light Side, holds the Universe together, and can become a giant, sticky mess if you fuck with it. I've been ignoring the 'Verse and pretty much got myself duct taped to a wall. When I do listen to, and trust, the 'Verse, it's like being able to use the duct tape in my favor.
How do I make that leap of faith? I don't. I walk across my duct tape bridge, one baby step at a time. I begin to trust by making duct tape planks, based on things I know to be true. I'm here for a purpose and I can't fulfill my purpose if I don't fucking listen to the instructions.
I used to have a t-shirt that said "When all else fails, look in the trash for the instructions." Well, all else has failed. Time to go hunting for the instructions.
For a long time, it was that one word and all it's synonyms: "surrender." That meant I lost, I couldn't handle it, things were not just fine, and, worst of all, it meant biting back my pride and asking something for help. Surrender means you're conquered like a losing country, subject to obedience, authority, and obeisance. I was stronger than that. I was Rome, dammit! A superpower all my own, with subjects and allies (and no small number of enemies to conquer.) What I failed to remember was that even Rome failed when it spread itself too thin. I failed to remember that Rome, in it's Golden Era, helped more than it demanded. When it started demanding more than it gave, it failed, rather spectacularly. I was not Rome in its heyday. I was Rome in the era of the mad emperors.
Then there was that whole "God" business. I wasn't going to worship one damned thing, thankyouverymuch. Acknowledge? Sure. Work with? Maybe. Bow and scrape and lick His oh so holy feet? Fuck that noise.
How do I begin to trust a Power greater than myself?
There's that twitchy word again: "trust." I have trouble even trusting myself. How do I go about trusting something that could easily be construed as an imaginary friend?
I realized that my definition of God does not hafta be the Abramic, father figure who will beat you if you're bad. I realized my definition of God didn't even hafta be humanoid. A spirit that moves around and through me and my actions? A God as large as the 'Verse and as small as that still, quiet "maybe" voice? A god closer to being wind than Dad with the belt? That's more my speed.
I can trust the energy of the 'Verse. It has seen everything and knows what my next step should be. I'm reminded of a Star Wars joke when I think of the 'Verse- the Force (or 'Verse) like duct tape: it has a Dark Side, a Light Side, holds the Universe together, and can become a giant, sticky mess if you fuck with it. I've been ignoring the 'Verse and pretty much got myself duct taped to a wall. When I do listen to, and trust, the 'Verse, it's like being able to use the duct tape in my favor.
How do I make that leap of faith? I don't. I walk across my duct tape bridge, one baby step at a time. I begin to trust by making duct tape planks, based on things I know to be true. I'm here for a purpose and I can't fulfill my purpose if I don't fucking listen to the instructions.
I used to have a t-shirt that said "When all else fails, look in the trash for the instructions." Well, all else has failed. Time to go hunting for the instructions.
Saturday, November 2, 2013
With Booze Comes Truth
Let me preface this: I rarely drink. I drink maybe once every few months, a drink maybe two. I despise the drunk or even buzzed feeling. I don't feel in control of myself or my actions, and that is a nasty place to be. But there comes a moment in the booze where I can face certain truths and parts of my past with greater clarity and truth than I dare when sober. I feel emotions and can identify them more clearly. I do not pin this on the alcohol. I pin this on the almost meditative or contemplative state I hit when I can shut off the forebrain.
There are days I pin everything on my mother. There are days where all I want to blame is my parents' parents. Most days, I know better. I did this to myself. While I know my parents may have started the ball rolling, I'm the one that let it snowball, although out of ignorance, masochism, or a desire to please, I may never know. I know that I'M the one that internalized, rationalized, and made right what was wrong.
I'm the one that decided that perfection was the best path from the pain. I'm the one that took on burdens that were not my own. I'm the one that sees a fuck up where most can only see a major achievement. I'm the one that can't see myself as this wonderful person everyone else paints.
All I can see is the little kid cowering in the corner. All I can see is the young human being abused physically, emotionally, and mentally for a mistake any child might make. I want to be perfect because I'm painfully aware that that's the only way I can earn love and not hurt. I want to absorb pain so I don't hafta feel pain. I've actually learned to physically and emotionally absorb pain from others with or without them noticing. I do it with permission most of the time, but if it's bad enough, I send out feelers to remove it without their permission or with their express "no." That gift comes at a great cost: I absorb it. That pain goes into me, although to what degree is never known. Physical pain can cause me anywhere from no pain to enough pain I limp. Emotional pain causes a feedback loop that eventually leads to tears. Half the time I absorb it, I don't know it until the pain appears. Other times, I do it intentionally. Better I suffer than someone else. I'm already fucked up. If I can save someone else from that pain, I'm willing to sacrifice myself. I realize that is martyrdom and self defacing, self disrespecting.
All I can see is the little kid trying to shield herself from the blows for sins long past and infractions that didn't deserve the punishment meted out. I see the little kid that wanted to take the blame for that cat that ruined Fourth of July by breaking the platter and making the meat inedible. I see the girl that shielded her sisters with her own body for imaginary infractions against a drunken father. I see the girl trying to clean up the milk while accepting and flinching from blows. I see the little girl that deserved every punishment, great and small, because I wasn't good enough. I see the girl that accepted that it was her fault when Mom tried to commit suicide. I see a scapegoat, and a damn good one.
I see a woman that has done well for herself, but it's not me. I see a woman who would make a great teacher and mother, but it's not me. I see a wonderful wife and damn good cook, but it's not me. I see a young woman who has beaten the odds and gotten out of one of the roughest neighborhoods in the country with high honors, but it's not me. I'm still the little girl trying not to dodge the hits because I know that would only cause more. I'm still the young lady who caused my Mother's problems. I'm still a fuck up.
Do you know I still flinch at sudden movements? I still fight my instinct when I need to enter a room of "bad" emotions. I still emotionally flinch at loud sounds, yelling and arguments. I still shudder at the sound of broken glass. I am still broken.
Let go and let God. Let the 'Verse have the pain. Let the All have the well ingrained reactions. Let God lift you from the wreckage. Yet I cling on. This wreckage I know. That fuselage is knowing I'll be hit for infractions. Those wings are knowing that if I fuck up enough, Mom commits suicide for real this time. That windshield is knowing how to take the blame, but not release it. To leave the wreckage for unknown safety? It makes sense to the outsider, not the survivor. I know the wreckage. Safety is a giant unknown.
These tears are safety. These spasms of sobs are what I know. Releasing myself from this bungee of sscapegoating is a royal Bitch. It's unknown. The unknown has meant pain. The unknown will mean pain.
I cannot say I know the future. I say I read the Tarot to know my subconscious. That's only partially truth. I read the Tarot so I know what future to expect and brace myself for. I read the Tarot in the hopes of controlling future pain.
Maybe the future won't be so bad with a deity leading the way. Maybe I can handle the pain of the past in the future with a deity who only says "I love you." Maybe I can handle the pain of the past with a God that says "I'm here, take my hand." Maybe I can accept the 'Verse's arms me, protecting me from harm while I strike out my own path. Maybe I can accept love without fear of retribution or abandonment.
I still want to know why. Why me? I know why. This was/ is one of my lessons this life. Why me? Why should I learn this one before I was ready? Maybe I'll never have been ready. Maybe God pulled a mama bird, chucking me out of the nest before I thought I was ready before because he knew better. Maybe I've been trying to go this alone when in reality it's been like a child's first steps: mama just behind them, watching them the entire way, ready to comfort them for the inevitable fall. My mother tells me I took my first few steps, realized what I'd done, and fell over when I realized it. Maybe that's what this is: I took the first few steps and fell over, now God/ the 'Verse is willing to pick me back up, hug me, and set me on my feet again, all the while encouraging me.
I think I can do this, even if God has to hold my hands until I get steady. Not to mention, I have a hell of a sponsor, a woman who can promise it can be done because she's done it. I just hafta trust them and the program.
There are days I pin everything on my mother. There are days where all I want to blame is my parents' parents. Most days, I know better. I did this to myself. While I know my parents may have started the ball rolling, I'm the one that let it snowball, although out of ignorance, masochism, or a desire to please, I may never know. I know that I'M the one that internalized, rationalized, and made right what was wrong.
I'm the one that decided that perfection was the best path from the pain. I'm the one that took on burdens that were not my own. I'm the one that sees a fuck up where most can only see a major achievement. I'm the one that can't see myself as this wonderful person everyone else paints.
All I can see is the little kid cowering in the corner. All I can see is the young human being abused physically, emotionally, and mentally for a mistake any child might make. I want to be perfect because I'm painfully aware that that's the only way I can earn love and not hurt. I want to absorb pain so I don't hafta feel pain. I've actually learned to physically and emotionally absorb pain from others with or without them noticing. I do it with permission most of the time, but if it's bad enough, I send out feelers to remove it without their permission or with their express "no." That gift comes at a great cost: I absorb it. That pain goes into me, although to what degree is never known. Physical pain can cause me anywhere from no pain to enough pain I limp. Emotional pain causes a feedback loop that eventually leads to tears. Half the time I absorb it, I don't know it until the pain appears. Other times, I do it intentionally. Better I suffer than someone else. I'm already fucked up. If I can save someone else from that pain, I'm willing to sacrifice myself. I realize that is martyrdom and self defacing, self disrespecting.
All I can see is the little kid trying to shield herself from the blows for sins long past and infractions that didn't deserve the punishment meted out. I see the little kid that wanted to take the blame for that cat that ruined Fourth of July by breaking the platter and making the meat inedible. I see the girl that shielded her sisters with her own body for imaginary infractions against a drunken father. I see the girl trying to clean up the milk while accepting and flinching from blows. I see the little girl that deserved every punishment, great and small, because I wasn't good enough. I see the girl that accepted that it was her fault when Mom tried to commit suicide. I see a scapegoat, and a damn good one.
I see a woman that has done well for herself, but it's not me. I see a woman who would make a great teacher and mother, but it's not me. I see a wonderful wife and damn good cook, but it's not me. I see a young woman who has beaten the odds and gotten out of one of the roughest neighborhoods in the country with high honors, but it's not me. I'm still the little girl trying not to dodge the hits because I know that would only cause more. I'm still the young lady who caused my Mother's problems. I'm still a fuck up.
Do you know I still flinch at sudden movements? I still fight my instinct when I need to enter a room of "bad" emotions. I still emotionally flinch at loud sounds, yelling and arguments. I still shudder at the sound of broken glass. I am still broken.
Let go and let God. Let the 'Verse have the pain. Let the All have the well ingrained reactions. Let God lift you from the wreckage. Yet I cling on. This wreckage I know. That fuselage is knowing I'll be hit for infractions. Those wings are knowing that if I fuck up enough, Mom commits suicide for real this time. That windshield is knowing how to take the blame, but not release it. To leave the wreckage for unknown safety? It makes sense to the outsider, not the survivor. I know the wreckage. Safety is a giant unknown.
These tears are safety. These spasms of sobs are what I know. Releasing myself from this bungee of sscapegoating is a royal Bitch. It's unknown. The unknown has meant pain. The unknown will mean pain.
I cannot say I know the future. I say I read the Tarot to know my subconscious. That's only partially truth. I read the Tarot so I know what future to expect and brace myself for. I read the Tarot in the hopes of controlling future pain.
Maybe the future won't be so bad with a deity leading the way. Maybe I can handle the pain of the past in the future with a deity who only says "I love you." Maybe I can handle the pain of the past with a God that says "I'm here, take my hand." Maybe I can accept the 'Verse's arms me, protecting me from harm while I strike out my own path. Maybe I can accept love without fear of retribution or abandonment.
I still want to know why. Why me? I know why. This was/ is one of my lessons this life. Why me? Why should I learn this one before I was ready? Maybe I'll never have been ready. Maybe God pulled a mama bird, chucking me out of the nest before I thought I was ready before because he knew better. Maybe I've been trying to go this alone when in reality it's been like a child's first steps: mama just behind them, watching them the entire way, ready to comfort them for the inevitable fall. My mother tells me I took my first few steps, realized what I'd done, and fell over when I realized it. Maybe that's what this is: I took the first few steps and fell over, now God/ the 'Verse is willing to pick me back up, hug me, and set me on my feet again, all the while encouraging me.
I think I can do this, even if God has to hold my hands until I get steady. Not to mention, I have a hell of a sponsor, a woman who can promise it can be done because she's done it. I just hafta trust them and the program.
Friday, November 1, 2013
Working the Book, Step 3, Part 2
What was my understanding of a Higher Power when I first came to Al- Anon?
Fuzzy at best. I had some sort of spiritual belief, but I was good without God, especially the Judeochristian God.
I believed there was some sort of guardian or deity out there. "he/ she/ it/ they, I don't care." I didn't believe in a personal god, but at the same time I did. I think I envisioned God in much the same way my parents acted: helpful in moments of extremes, but usually pretty hands off and inaccessible. The insistence of God the Father or Goddess the Mother really didn't help. Why would I want some ethereal parent to do the same damn thing my parents did: punish me when I was bad, offer me some vague platitude of "yay" when I accomplish something, and ignore me most of the time. "A loving God is always in your life." Yeah fucking right. Nobody is always there for me, and God seemed not to hear my pleas. Even when he sent me what I most wanted and most feared (A CPS investigator), I chickened out (and coerced my youngest sister to corroborate what I said) and blamed God for not sending a good one. God the Son, who died to abolish my sins before I did them? Pfeh. A joke. No one can remove everything I've done wrong. That's too big a list and some of them are too big (and too deep) to just be forgiven. I kept my sins in an ongoing mental list, everything I did wrong, everything I fucked up. I absorbed other people's sins to be my own, as obviously they weren't doing anything about it. I was fucked up, just pin another sin on the scapegoat and send it to it's happy death. God the Spirit was a cop out, in my eyes. It was just another name for the God I had vetoed, the one that wouldn't hear my pleas or couldn't do anything, hardly a worthy God.
I chucked that God out of my life. I still vaguely believed in God, just not that one. More some all encompassing spark of life and energy. The Universe (or 'Verse, ala Firefly.) The All, ala Wicca. Nothing you really prayed to or beseeched for anything, more something that was always there and that worked you to your final destiny. I believed in destiny, but not fate or predetermination. You had a clearing at the end of your path, some final lesson, but how you got there was your own business. In my darkest or most painful moments, I would get horribly close to prayer, a "God, please, please, God," begging for release from whatever I had done to myself.
How has my understanding of God changed over time?
I still believe in the 'Verse, the All. I've incorporated bits and pieces from what I read and experience. "Thou art God," after all. The power in the 'Verse, God, if you will, is like a great furnace. What I have is like the pilot light for that furnace. If I blow it out, God appears to vanish. The instant I relight it, God reappears. God has never vanished. He seems to go into nothingness, but there is still gas, waiting for a spark. God is within you and outside of you. You are God, I am God, everything with a life is God. I don't grok God, but I have a fair understanding. I don't know that it's within human capacity to grok God. There are just too many facets to that diamond to see them all in one lifetime. But by being loving, compassionate, and serene, you can feel God and be God.
Fuzzy at best. I had some sort of spiritual belief, but I was good without God, especially the Judeochristian God.
I believed there was some sort of guardian or deity out there. "he/ she/ it/ they, I don't care." I didn't believe in a personal god, but at the same time I did. I think I envisioned God in much the same way my parents acted: helpful in moments of extremes, but usually pretty hands off and inaccessible. The insistence of God the Father or Goddess the Mother really didn't help. Why would I want some ethereal parent to do the same damn thing my parents did: punish me when I was bad, offer me some vague platitude of "yay" when I accomplish something, and ignore me most of the time. "A loving God is always in your life." Yeah fucking right. Nobody is always there for me, and God seemed not to hear my pleas. Even when he sent me what I most wanted and most feared (A CPS investigator), I chickened out (and coerced my youngest sister to corroborate what I said) and blamed God for not sending a good one. God the Son, who died to abolish my sins before I did them? Pfeh. A joke. No one can remove everything I've done wrong. That's too big a list and some of them are too big (and too deep) to just be forgiven. I kept my sins in an ongoing mental list, everything I did wrong, everything I fucked up. I absorbed other people's sins to be my own, as obviously they weren't doing anything about it. I was fucked up, just pin another sin on the scapegoat and send it to it's happy death. God the Spirit was a cop out, in my eyes. It was just another name for the God I had vetoed, the one that wouldn't hear my pleas or couldn't do anything, hardly a worthy God.
I chucked that God out of my life. I still vaguely believed in God, just not that one. More some all encompassing spark of life and energy. The Universe (or 'Verse, ala Firefly.) The All, ala Wicca. Nothing you really prayed to or beseeched for anything, more something that was always there and that worked you to your final destiny. I believed in destiny, but not fate or predetermination. You had a clearing at the end of your path, some final lesson, but how you got there was your own business. In my darkest or most painful moments, I would get horribly close to prayer, a "God, please, please, God," begging for release from whatever I had done to myself.
How has my understanding of God changed over time?
I still believe in the 'Verse, the All. I've incorporated bits and pieces from what I read and experience. "Thou art God," after all. The power in the 'Verse, God, if you will, is like a great furnace. What I have is like the pilot light for that furnace. If I blow it out, God appears to vanish. The instant I relight it, God reappears. God has never vanished. He seems to go into nothingness, but there is still gas, waiting for a spark. God is within you and outside of you. You are God, I am God, everything with a life is God. I don't grok God, but I have a fair understanding. I don't know that it's within human capacity to grok God. There are just too many facets to that diamond to see them all in one lifetime. But by being loving, compassionate, and serene, you can feel God and be God.
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Working the Book, Step 3, Part 1
How has Step 3 helped me find a Great Divine I can trust?
I have held a grudge against the first God I knew. There are too many false starts, bad memories, and horrible tastes associated with the Holy Trinity. That God failed me as a child, and i'm reluctant to give Him another chance.
Trusting something, anything, beyond myself was anathema. God obviously didn't care or hear my pleas, so why bother? Slowly, I realized that there must be something out there keeping an eye on me. I'm not dead and I'm not in a hospital. Something is watching out for me. I could accept a loving being that wanted to help me, but not necessarily a divine hand. I still have too much distaste for authority for that. Over and over, I told this deity what needed to happen. Over and over, I was told "no." Over and over, I prayed (I detest that word, but it's the truth of what it was) for answers and said "no, not that answer."
Eventually, something in me kicked. Maybe the way forward was not the way I thought I wanted. From there, all the dominoes toppled. If the way forward I wanted wasn't right, what was the right way? Maybe the 'Verse had greater plans than what I aimed for. Maybe the 'Verse had a better idea. Maybe, just maybe, I could listen for the next step in the plan as opposed to telling the Great Divine my next step and finding a wall.
Ok, I believed in the Great Divine, and trusted that the 'Verse had better ideas than I did, but I still didn't wholly trust this God. Deities had failed me. There came a point where I realized that listening for those next steps and trusting them didn't mean worship. BAM! The door flew open. "Thou art God. I am God." Robert Heinlein and Michael Valentine Smith had it right. God wasn't something to worship from afar via lip service. God is in all of us. Trusting God meant trusting myself, trusting that little voice that says "Maybe, just maybe...", and trusting that things would turn out in the end. I could handle that. Thou art God. I can handle that.
How do I distinguish God's will from my own?
It's hard hearing that little voice, when my head is clamoring over with brilliant (and not so brilliant) ideas. I wish I could say "you just know because of the peace." That's not true. Sometimes the truth come like a thunderclap, and sometimes it "comes like a butterfly and quietly lands on your shoulder."
You know it's God's will when the brick wall vanishes. You know it's God's will when things quietly start falling in your favor. You know it's God's will when, even though it's not the easy way out, it's the RIGHT way. You know it's God's will when, even as your heart beats out of your chest in anxiety, that small center of you that is God is a quiet candle burning steadily in the darkness. You know it's God's will when you're not afraid of what comes next, not out of depression, but out of the comfort that you ARE on the right path, wherever the hell it leads. Even if you fear the next step like it could kill you, you do it anyways, because there's a hurricane lantern beckoning you forward.
I have held a grudge against the first God I knew. There are too many false starts, bad memories, and horrible tastes associated with the Holy Trinity. That God failed me as a child, and i'm reluctant to give Him another chance.
Trusting something, anything, beyond myself was anathema. God obviously didn't care or hear my pleas, so why bother? Slowly, I realized that there must be something out there keeping an eye on me. I'm not dead and I'm not in a hospital. Something is watching out for me. I could accept a loving being that wanted to help me, but not necessarily a divine hand. I still have too much distaste for authority for that. Over and over, I told this deity what needed to happen. Over and over, I was told "no." Over and over, I prayed (I detest that word, but it's the truth of what it was) for answers and said "no, not that answer."
Eventually, something in me kicked. Maybe the way forward was not the way I thought I wanted. From there, all the dominoes toppled. If the way forward I wanted wasn't right, what was the right way? Maybe the 'Verse had greater plans than what I aimed for. Maybe the 'Verse had a better idea. Maybe, just maybe, I could listen for the next step in the plan as opposed to telling the Great Divine my next step and finding a wall.
Ok, I believed in the Great Divine, and trusted that the 'Verse had better ideas than I did, but I still didn't wholly trust this God. Deities had failed me. There came a point where I realized that listening for those next steps and trusting them didn't mean worship. BAM! The door flew open. "Thou art God. I am God." Robert Heinlein and Michael Valentine Smith had it right. God wasn't something to worship from afar via lip service. God is in all of us. Trusting God meant trusting myself, trusting that little voice that says "Maybe, just maybe...", and trusting that things would turn out in the end. I could handle that. Thou art God. I can handle that.
How do I distinguish God's will from my own?
It's hard hearing that little voice, when my head is clamoring over with brilliant (and not so brilliant) ideas. I wish I could say "you just know because of the peace." That's not true. Sometimes the truth come like a thunderclap, and sometimes it "comes like a butterfly and quietly lands on your shoulder."
You know it's God's will when the brick wall vanishes. You know it's God's will when things quietly start falling in your favor. You know it's God's will when, even though it's not the easy way out, it's the RIGHT way. You know it's God's will when, even as your heart beats out of your chest in anxiety, that small center of you that is God is a quiet candle burning steadily in the darkness. You know it's God's will when you're not afraid of what comes next, not out of depression, but out of the comfort that you ARE on the right path, wherever the hell it leads. Even if you fear the next step like it could kill you, you do it anyways, because there's a hurricane lantern beckoning you forward.
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