Where do you go in times of emotional turmoil? A quiet space, a walk in the woods, a favorite book, a mind-numbing movie, maybe a favorite destructive behavior pattern? Sometimes an escape is essential to my sanity and I have numerous options from which to choose. Thanks to the fellowship, drinking or drugging is no longer one of them.
That’s where I am at today. What course of action do I need to take to address a living situation which has been festering for several weeks and for which I see no solution other than packing bags and living in my pickup truck? It’s a tough mental exercise which has at times led me to believe living on my truck is the better option. But, I still love the creature comforts of a warm bed under a tin roof and meals at a dining room table. What I don’t like is the theft of serenity by the constant turmoil.
I would love to say that I immediately go to my Higher Power in these times. But, I don’t. There is a vestige of the old Larry which says, “I can handle this by myself, thanks, but no thanks, God.” I continue to squirm and wiggle trying to work this out through my own powers of decision-making. And I grow desperate listening to the voices of ‘self will run riot’. It is not a safe place to be.
My old nature is to be confrontational, to become self-righteous about the perceived wrongs committed against me. The old me walks away in a huff muttering about the stupidity and insensitivity of other people. The old me would stew for days over an incident that was misunderstood by all involved. The old me will get me drunk or dead. I don’t like the old me anymore.
One of my daily prayers inspired by the writing of Marianne Williamson in ILLUMINATA sets the stage for an assessment of my character defects while asking for relief:
“Lord, cast from me all harsh and critical nature; cast from me all anger and violence; cast from me all doubt and insecurity; cast from me all demons from my past, for I would be made new.”
“If we were to live, we had to be free of anger. The grouch and the sudden rage were not for us. Anger is the dubious luxury of normal men, but for us alcoholics it is poison.” Bill W. writes in AS BILL SEES IT.
My answer is staring me in the face. I know what the spiritual response needs to be. Now, the action part of this discovery must be pursued. Namaste.