Working the Book, Step 4, Part2

How do I know when I am ready to move on from the first three Steps to my Step Four inventory?
Is this a trick question?  I thought once you had  made the first 3 Steps, and started applying them to your life, you moved on to Step 4.
I guess, in a way, I've been taking a breather between Thee and Four.  Not intentionally, and I've still made some headway on Four, but it hasn't had that sense of urgency that the first 3 did.  I dunno. I still need to do it, but I now have a way to make peace with myself over those flaws and I'm using it as I go.
I really have no answer for this one.  When it feels right? I innately knew when to move on, but being able to vocalize how I came to that conclusion is another animal entirely.  It also seems like a staircase: you're on step 3, and done with what you needed to do there, time to move on and upward.
This answer feels like a cop out.  I would say, well, maybe that means I'm not ready to move on to Step 4, maybe I still have work on Step 3.  Except I am  tackling Step 4 through step 3, if that makes any sense. I'm using the God of my understanding to help me understand, analyze, and forgive those negative things I'm finding in myself.
This still isn't my right answer to this question.  It's a tautological answer.  It's time to move on because it's time to move on.
I would say it's when God gives you the kick in the ass to move on, but, while closer to the answer, that isn't it either.
I think it's when you NEED to move on, not when you think you're  ready, or when you want to, but when there is some desperate internal need to move on.  If that's the case, I'm not sure I'm done with Steps One through Three yet.  I want to move on, but in the same breath, I'm perfectly comfortable just dumping it all over to God and not touching it.  I haven't found that urgency or NEED yet for Step Four.

Working the Book, Step 4, Part 1

What has kept me from working Step Four?
Fear. It has many different shapes and forms, but it is fear.
Fear of the unknown. I'm not sure what seeing it all listed out would do to me.  I may find pieces of myself that I deeply dislike.  I may find pieces in the inventory that I believe are "too good" and subconsciously want to thwart myself, because if I'm "good," people can't pin things on me.  Fear that knowing myself would remove my ability to chameleon change and I'd lose one of my handiest/ easiest/ worst coping mechanisms.  (Intellectually, I know that would not be a bad thing.)
Fear of harming others.  Not myself.  Others.  Fear that knowing myself and starting to act true to myself would hurt those I love and possibly drive them away.  Intellectually, I know that if someone would run away because I started trying to get better, they aren't someone to have.  The part of me that fears being abandoned goes "NOOOOO!!! Get back here, you can't leave me all alone!"  Fear that facing the music might somehow harm my mother and cause her to go into self destruct mode.  As ridiculous as that sounds, I blame/ blamed myself for some of herself destructive behavior.  Fear that my true self is nowhere near as kind/ generous/ helping as this persona I've put on.  While I know it's actually quite the opposite, that once you remove the cynicism, sardonicism, and expectation for things to fail  (hey, those are all related!), my personality will only get better,  there's still that little nagging voice warning me I'll turn into the martyr.
Fear of myself.  I've been this version of me for so long, what if I don't like what I turn into? My brain calls that preposterous, that this change can only be positive and that if I don't like it, I can always change it again.
Fear of doing it imperfectly.  I can't exactly go at this with surgical shears.  I'm kind of ripping and scrabbling and tearing at it, resulting in imperfect edges and bad seams.  While I know humans are flawed creatures at heart, I can't be, I hafta be perfect, right? Wrong. It's like I'm this quilt, with all these rips, tears, bubbling seams and flat out missing pieces.  While I can fix most of this, there will always be missing pieces and sewing errors.  The thing of it is, an imperfect quilt has more personality, hence the love of the crazy quilt and T-shirt quilt.  I'm allowed to be flawed.  I'm allowed to be imperfect.  I'm allowed to be the REAL me, without the layers of airbrushing and learned behavior.
Fear of fucking it up, which I guess goes hand in hand with the fear of doing it imperfectly.
How is Step Four helping me to accept myself?
Interesting word, "Accept."  Part of me wants to rebel and fight back with "whaddaya mean?  I've always accepted myself.  I'm here, aren't I?"  I don't think that "accept" was right, though. That one implies complacency and a certain "well, it's here, might as well do something with it."  I think the correct "Accept" in this context is the acceptance of the path to self love.
It's funny.  All these years, I've thought I had enough self love for 3 people, and enough ego for 4.  Looking back, I realize it was a pretty horrible cover stretched way too thin.  That self love was what I was "supposed to have," so I manufactured a version and dropped it in. It was cobbled together out of the wrong bits and pieces, so it never quite fit, but I'll be damned if I didn't keep trying to do it. It ws kinda like a round peg in a square hole.  It'd fit, with enough force, but it never really worked right.  That ego was a self defense ward.  If I piled it on thick enough, you couldn't see my pain and weakness.
I'm starting to see that the real version of me, the part that's been hiding (or chained up, not sure which) isn't quite so "bad"as I thought she was.  Weak?  It takes strength to show the truth.  Imperfect?  Think of Crazy quilts. Smiles too damn much?  Might be a side effect sign of a happy soul, not a cover against a dark world.
I'm starting to be able to shuck some of the layers of armor in favor of the goodness I've found within myself.
What benefits do I gain by completing a Step Four inventory?
I can find those holes and puckers and bubbling seams and replace them with fresh parts.  Well, not quite  "Fresh."  More like old pieces that fit better.  I can find those parts of me that no longer work and find old pieces of me that work better.  It's all in there.  It's just a matter of cleaning house.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Working the Book, Step 2, Part 3

Which words in Step 2 do I find especially meaningful?
First, a reminder of the wording of Step 2:

Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves can restore us to sanity.

I think the strongest part of that phrase is "Power greater than ourselves."  For so long, I've denied the existence of a helping deity.  I have claimed that "there is a God, but it's closer to a scientist/ petri dish relationship.  He's just watching, not messing with it."  I'm still not sure the Great Divine really has an interest in my day to day life, but I know that if things really get bad, it'll intervene.  The Great Divine has a vested interest in keeping me alive and sane, and can handle all that I ask it to help with.
"To sanity" is also powerful. It is a reminder of the definition of insanity: doing the same thing and expecting different results.  I've been doing the same thing, in one form or another, my whole life, and expecting different results.  I've tried going it alone for 15 years and expected something different.  Sanity is waking up from the nightmare, not just reaching for another knife and staying asleep.
"Restore" gives me hope.  It means I haven't always been crazy and won't always be crazy.  It means there is still some spark in me that wants things to be healed.  Even a scar is no longer a gaping, oozing wound.
"Believe."  A simple word that has always been my way forward.  Believe in a better tomorrow.  Believe that things and people can change.  Believe that things must get saner,  because the Great Divine won't let it get worse.

Working the Book, Step 2, Part 2

In what ways has my thinking disturbed my peace?
I think a more accurate version of this is "in what ways hasn't your thinking disturbed your peace?" The list is far shorter, almost nonexistent.
I have a nasty tendency of taking innocuous things personally.  Even if it was meant as a joke or had nothing whatsoever to do with me, I take it personally.  I would better keep my peace with a healthy reaction.
I get sad and angry over things that I have no control over. Like when middle sister went to jail, I blamed myself for not raising her correctly  (yeah, because that 2.5 years means I can mother her well.)  Or when my mother needs a med change and won't ask the doc about it. Or idiots in traffic.
I am very hard on myself.  If it's not perfect, it's something to stew on and worry over or rage over.
I get anxious and worry over things that don't deserve my time or energy or that I can't fix.  (This has gotten better by cutting sulfites from my diet.)   I worry over my mother, when she's been doing well.  I worry over my car, and that cosmetic damage.  I worry over money, even when there's enough coming in (it's especially hard when I'm unemployed.)  I'm anxious in traffic, because I can't control the idiots around me.  On especially bad days, I worry about my husband, his entire family, all my friends, my sponsor, just up and abandoning me.

I know my fears of abandonment come from actually being temporarily abandoned, repeatedly, by my mother.  She'd decide life is too hard or her emotions were too complicated or something, and just drive off.  Yes, I'd be safe with someone (as a kid, as a teenager, I was the safe one for my sisters), but to see my mother just walk or drive off, without saying good bye or even saying she'd be back, scared (and scarred) me.  We never even knew where she was going or if she'd be back. One minute she was there, the next, she was crying and walking out the door.  After she attempted suicide on one of those outings, I worried all the more.  There were times I wished she wouldn't come back, then I'd heap blame and shame on myself for those thoughts.  "She is my mother!" I'd chide myself, "I hafta love her and want her."  There are times that I wonder if her taking us storm chasing was actually self destructive behavior that endangered us kids or if it was a form of running away.  I know the winter in Pennsylvania with her pen pal was running away.  I later found out that she didn't tell Dad until either we were gone or until we got back.  There are some memories there I need to uncover.

How does Step 2 help me find peace in stressful situations?
Just reminding myself that I don't hafta face this alone helps.  Knowing that there is someone out there who knows all of my past, all of my secrets, and all of everything, and still loves me and won't leave me (well, it hasn't yet) is a scary and empowering thought.  Just the idea of, even if everything goes to hell, I have something to fall back on, helps me stay sane.  There is an image of myself in an exoskeleton, where the exoskeleton is the Great Divine, that helps me realize that even if I don't have the strength, the Great Divine does.

Step 2, Working the Book, Part 2

What behaviors do I continue, expecting different outcomes?
I keep pushing people away, making them leap hurdles and pass acid tests to get close to me.  I want friends, but I don't give them a chance to be my friend. I now see this as a defense mechanism gone astray: if people can't get close to me, they can't run away from me.
I keep procrastinating, expecting to magically come up with the perfect solution for my projects at work. Fear of failure drives perfection.  Knowing I cannot be perfect drives procrastination.
I keep trying to "mother" my siblings into perfect human beings, even though they're both grown and going to  make their own decisions.  I now realize that ignoring my middle sister and pretending like she doesn't exist, only to mourn her bad or "bad" choices, is like my mother running away when we were bad or like Granny ignoring everything that doesn't fit in her perfect world. I still need to avoid and ignore her, but not to punish her.  I need to avoid her to get myself healthy.

How do I define sanity?
Sanity is realizing that I can't survive alone in this world.  Not just in terms of physical survival, but emotionally. Humans have always lived in social groups, both to make food easier and because humans need to be loved.  I can live alone (much as I'd rather not lose my husband and families) physically, but even in my most introverted days, I go stir crazy without some form of human contact, even just saying hello to my neighbor.  I need to know I'm not alone.  I need to know I haven't been abandoned by everything I ever loved.
Sanity is knowing where to draw the line on what I can change.  I can't change that the sun comes up in the east. I can't change that wars are fought over stupid things.  I can't change the moon.  I can't change my mother.  I can't change anyone except myself and my reactions.  Someone with schizophrenia once said "I can't change that I hear the voices, but I can change that I listen to them."  That's kinda how I see my life.  I can't change my past, but I can change the reactions I learned in my past.

Working the Book, Step 2, Part 1

What has led me to believe in a Power greater than myself?
The fact I am still alive.  If I am still alive, after what happened as a kid, the inexplicable healed broken ribs and scars, and the false choices I have made, something is watching me, keeping an eye on me.  Something has a vested interest in keeping me alive.  I ascribe to that as the great Divine.  If it wants me alive that badly, and can move heaven and earth to keep me here, it's not my call to tell it no.  I do not know if it hears or cares about prayers.  I just know the Great Divine knows what's best for me.  If I fuck up, it's always there, waiting for me to turn around and remember or ask for help.  There have been times I have felt the physical presence of the Great Divine, barring me from harm.
How do I describe that Power?
Not the Judeochristian God/ LORD, that's for sure.  I have a grudge against that aspect of the Great Divine. I believe that the closest the human mind can come to comprehending the Great Divine is to picture a great and giant faceted diamond, sparkling and shining as from a light within itself.  Every face is a face a past present, or future faith sees as a god(dess) or god (desse)s.  Every faith has gotten part of it right and part of it wrong. God is a reflection of human nature, good or bad, angelic or demonic.  We see in the Great Divine what we want to see or what we need to see. If we need a father figure that day, that is the facet we see.  If we just need to be loved, the facet with an ocean of love is there.  It is difficult, possibly impossible, for humans to grasp and see all the facets at once. Certain faiths deny the existence of all the other faces, others embrace as many as possible.

Working the Book, Step 1, Part 3

What situations in my life have returned me to Step One?
Dealing with my parents and my middle sister. I am reminded that I have no power over them much as I may wish otherwise.  I am reminded to be patient and try not to get frustrated because they won't do as I want them to.  I am reminded to find my serenity and not get drawn into the old roles I played.
Dealing with coworkers and managers who have the power to criticize my work.  I need to keep my serenity.  I need to hear the comments and not the shame I attach to criticism.  I need to find a way out of the rage and terror/ anxiety those situations create.
What tools of the Al- Anon proram do I use to find serenity when my life becomes unmanageable?
Meditating on "one day, one hour, one moment" at a time.  If I can remind myself that "this, too, shall pass" and shorten it into breath sized chunks of time where "just for  this breath, it'll all be ok," I can survive for a minute, then an hour, then years.
I remind myself that I don't hafta go it alone. Even if the Great Divine opts out of doing something about it, even just telling Scler or someone about it helps lift the pain. Humans are social creatures.  We need the help of the pack every once in a while.
I tell myself "this is not my burden."  When I find myself trying to fix something for someone, I remind myself that their battle is not my battle.  My battle is my battle.
I use the Serenity Prayer, and listen for the nudge. If I cannot change it, I ask the Great Divine to fill me with serenity.  If I can, I silence the yammer with purpose and do what needs be done.  If I don't get a nudge, I try to hear my inner wisdom.

Step 1, Working the Book 2

How does Step One change my perspective about the disease of alcoholism?
I realize now that my parents can only be helped when they're good and ready.  Their problems are not mine.  That juxtaposition of love and hatred I've felt for them for so long is actually natural, it's loving my parents, but not hating their problems of booze and martyrdom. I can love my parents without guilt, because loving them doesn't mean I love their diseases.  I can love my mother without fear I'll push her over the edge, because her problems are her own, not mine.  I can love my father without fear of retribution, because the demon booze is not my father.
How do I determine I am powerless over someone else's behavior?
Each adult has the right to free will.  For good or bad, they have the right to do as they see fit.  My mother will continue to do what she does, because it works for her; however harmful it may be.  My father will continue to drink, until something stops him.  That something can not be me, it must be internal.  As much as I may want to turn them from their self destruction, I cannot. I determine my powerlessness over someone else's behavior by determining whether I am trying to impinge on their free will.  If I am, I am trying to control them, and controlling others is impossible.  Trying to control someone else is like trying to stop water: Eventually, it will make it's way where it wants to go, dam be damned.

In what ways do I continue to struggle with powerlessness?
I still want control.  Control means less chaos, to the kid in my head.  While I rationally know that to be untrue, and that it is in fact opposite that, control means less chaos to my emotions.  If I can't control it, then I'm relying on others, others that could fuck it up or hurt me with it.  I've said time and again "I hate people."  I now no longer think that's true. I hate not having control over people, because not having control over them allows them to impact my life, causing chaos.  I rebel against powerlessness, even unintentionally.  Feeling powerless goes back to when I was young.  I was powerless against the chaos.  I had to either embrace the chaos or try to control things that might make the chaos go away. I chose control.  Whether or not that has to do with being the eldest and Mamasita, I don't know. To admit powerlessness would be to admit imperfection. No one would or could love something imperfect. To admit powerlessness and imperfection would drive everyone I love and rely on away. I've been told over and over that isn't true, but my mother and father showed me it was. The people who should have loved me unconditionally made me earn their love with pretty smiles and perfection.  I'm sitting here crying because there has been a realization that real love is given freely and maybe, just maybe, people actually mean when they say they're there for me. There's a little will o' the wisp light for me.
How does Step One help me to let go of misplaced blame and undeserved shame?
Oh, what I wouldn't give just to parrot back the "right" answer on this one. 
Step One helps me realize that Mom's depression isn't my fault. I am not to blame for her mistakes.  I am not to blame for what she does. "If guilt trips actually took you anywhere, my mother would be a travel agent."  It is not my fault she was suicidal. I should not be ashamed of her depression. Guilt trips were her perverse way of trying to control her world, of exerting power when she was/ is powerless against all else. After the suicide show on the bridge, I internalized it as all my fault.  I had handed her the note, I had somehow failed her in getting her friend to love her, I had failed to keep my sisters happy and calm around her.  I now know that it isn't my fault. She would have found some other excuse to try and jump off that bridge if I didn't exist. Her mental imbalance is not my fault.
Step One helps me realize that Dad's drinking isn't my fault. He doesn't drink because of a dirty house or loud kids or even my mother. He drinks because he drinks. He'd drink even in completely different circumstances, and will keep drinking until he finds out how to heal. Step One helps me heal from the shame of never being good enough to keep him from drinking.  There should be no shame there. Even if I'd kept things absolutely perfect, and kept Cassie out of trouble, he still would have drank. It helps me heal from the shame of having CPS called on us and having to lie my way out of the interview ("We're just fine, thanks!") and the darker shame of knowing we could have gotten out of that house had I told the truth, but the fear of them breaking the 3 of us apart kept me lying. It helped me heal from the shame of such a fucked up family, because, while the family dynamic was definitely off, it wasn't Mom and Dad fucking it all up.  It was Depression and Alcohol.
What benefits have I experienced in applying Step One?
I realize that not everything that goes wrong is my fault, or even has anything to do with me. I was the perfect scapegoat: blame me and I'd probably believe you.
Not every issue requires panic mode.  Panic mode stems from trying to exert power over something where I have no power.
I can accept, and in certain cases, even ask for help.
I can identify when I have no power and when I am using old evasion techniques to try to force power or avoid powerlessness. If I notice I am using old evasion techniques, I can use my power to control myself and stop using them.

Step 1, Working the Book 1

Why is it difficult to admit my powerlessness?
Giving up power means admitting that I am imperfect, have made mistakes, and need help. Power over even the inconsequential was a way of wresting control of my chaotic life.  I needed power; I needed control to show that my whole life wasn't chaos, just most of it, but this part right here wasn't because I controlled it.  Admitting I am powerless means that I can not control or manipulate others into a happier version of life, and that I hafta look at life as it is, chaos and all.

How do the effects of alcoholism and mental illness make my life unmanageable?
See "Step 1, Part 2."

What keeps me hanging on to the illusion that I have the power to change someone else?
A happy, serene, calm life, the flipside of my childhood.  If I could get Dad to stop drinking, we could be a happy family.  If I could get Mom sane, we would be a happy family.  If people would just do as they're told, life would be good.  If I controlled it all, things would be happy, peaceful, and calm.  Except me.  I'd be a stressed mess and always waiting for a control to fail.  (Oh wait, that's what's going on right now.)

In what ways does denial hamper my ability to let go of people, places, and situations?
I have deep trouble trusting others.  Superficial trust, yeah, sure, you can have that.  Trust you to help me, be there, or love me? Yeah fucking right. I am in denial over many things.  I cannot allow myself to be truly loved.  To open myself up to love is to open myself up to abandonment.  Everyone leaves, in time.  I can't let go of people because I can't be sure they won't hurt me further.  So, when they do leave me, or vice versa, I self flagellate emotionally.  They can't hurt me, so I hurt myself.  I can't let go of them, because that would mean I hafta feel the pain of letting go.  Part of me would rather take the emotional whip than that raw pain.
Certain places evoke memories, memories that until recently I was perfectly happy to leave buried, for fear of actually feeling the emotions of the time. That's the corner I took the beating when I spilled the milk.  That's the door I cowered against when I shielded my sisters from a beating for not cleaning our room.  That's the bridge where I had to calmly talk Mom down in my teens, ignoring my own emotions. That's the corner where I almost committed suicide. I'd almost rather deny having emotions, deny that any of that happened, than feel those emotions.  Feeling those emotions means I didn't do it right the first time around and fucked up.  I can't fuck up.  Everything must be perfect so I don't provoke Mom and Dad.
There are situations where I deny my true emotions, out of propriety and a learned fear of negative emotions.  You don't cry, even in grief.  You show no anger. Too much happiness brings down wrath from above. So I bottle it up, stow it away.  Certain situations cause fear, but fear is bad, so you stand there with gritted teeth and take it. Certain others mean a guaranteed fight, but if you aren't there, the fight doesn't happen, right?  Yet others are too close to painful childhood memories, and could bring up those emotions.  Rather than handle those emotions, I ran away from it in my mind, and denied those memories, those feelings.
Denial means I can't trust or love without  suspicion, I can't walk into a room without searching out exits and weapons, I can't witness a fight without emotionally cowering.  Denial means I act tough and like a total bitch when I'm confused. Maybe if I deny that there's anything wrong, we can all act normal and the pain will go away.
I always joke that my mother lives in Egypt, but I failed to realize I had/ have my own little summer home there.
I want to see. Denial is a set of blinders. I want to take them off.  If that means temporary pain, I can handle it. One step at a time. Kinda like the old Claymation Christmas song, "Just put one foot in front of the other, and soon you'll be walking out the door."