I knew that I had a problem. By the time I walked through the door into my first 12-step meeting at 7:00 am, my husband also knew that I had a problem, because I had tearfully spilled my guts at 3:00 am that same morning. But I actually had two problems: the original one, and the fact that I didn't know how to solve it. I had tried to go back to "normal drinking," i.e., one or maybe two scotch-on-the-rocks before dinner, and that's all. I had failed abysmally. For several mornings in a row I had woken up, painfully hung over, and sworn to myself "Today will be different!" It wasn't. What was going on? At all other times in my life, when I had decided that I was going to do something, I did it. What made this different? I'm thankful that I knew at least one place to go to find out.
One of the first things I learned when I entered my 12-step program is that newcomers are welcomed. The second thing I learned is that I didn't have to have been successful in giving up my problem yet. The person who reads the meeting "preamble" tells you that all you need is "a desire to stop" giving in to your compulsion (drinking, using drugs, overeating, gambling, etc.). That's enough to get you in the door.
I learned about the steps. I was told that if I got a sponsor, and "worked the steps" with my sponsor, and was serious about it, I had an excellent chance of recovery. So I got a temporary sponsor and we set up a time to start working the steps.
Step 1 asked me to admit that I was powerless, and that my life had become unmanageable. I was okay with the second part, and had the stitches to prove it, but the first part? Powerless? I had never admitted to being powerless over anything. If I wanted something or some outcome, I came up with a plan, carried it out, came up with another plan if the first one didn't work, and finally achieved my goal. After all, my father told me when I was about ten years old, "You can do anything you want to do, and be anything you want to be." I believed that. It had always been true...
... except for this time. I relapsed. I let myself get stressed out over preparations for a dinner party, and I drank. I couldn't stop myself. I desperately needed to dampen the anxiety that was building up, and I couldn't think of any other way to do it*. The rational part of my brain said no, but the irrational part of my brain won out. Later I learned that this is extremely common, especially in the beginning. The dinner party wasn't a total disaster, but it was far from my finest hour.
Admitting I was powerless became easier after that incident. I often have to be hit upside the head by a two-by-four in order to get the point. But I do, eventually, get the point.
* Now I know about other ways, much better ways, to relieve anxiety. I also know how to keep it from building in the first place. I'll write about that some other day.
One of the first things I learned when I entered my 12-step program is that newcomers are welcomed. The second thing I learned is that I didn't have to have been successful in giving up my problem yet. The person who reads the meeting "preamble" tells you that all you need is "a desire to stop" giving in to your compulsion (drinking, using drugs, overeating, gambling, etc.). That's enough to get you in the door.
I learned about the steps. I was told that if I got a sponsor, and "worked the steps" with my sponsor, and was serious about it, I had an excellent chance of recovery. So I got a temporary sponsor and we set up a time to start working the steps.
Step 1 asked me to admit that I was powerless, and that my life had become unmanageable. I was okay with the second part, and had the stitches to prove it, but the first part? Powerless? I had never admitted to being powerless over anything. If I wanted something or some outcome, I came up with a plan, carried it out, came up with another plan if the first one didn't work, and finally achieved my goal. After all, my father told me when I was about ten years old, "You can do anything you want to do, and be anything you want to be." I believed that. It had always been true...
... except for this time. I relapsed. I let myself get stressed out over preparations for a dinner party, and I drank. I couldn't stop myself. I desperately needed to dampen the anxiety that was building up, and I couldn't think of any other way to do it*. The rational part of my brain said no, but the irrational part of my brain won out. Later I learned that this is extremely common, especially in the beginning. The dinner party wasn't a total disaster, but it was far from my finest hour.
Admitting I was powerless became easier after that incident. I often have to be hit upside the head by a two-by-four in order to get the point. But I do, eventually, get the point.
* Now I know about other ways, much better ways, to relieve anxiety. I also know how to keep it from building in the first place. I'll write about that some other day.
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