Step by Step

I spoke to my new sponsor on the phone the other night. Just a way for us to become acquainted with one another as sponsor and sponsee. She told me how she is kind of hands off in her approach. I’m not sure if that’s what I need, but I’m willing to give it a try.

She said when I felt like I was ready, we would go through Step 4 together. Woohoo! From not working the steps to Step 4. Now we’re talking!

Then, for probably the first time, I sat down and really looked at the steps as they directly relate to my life.

Step 1: We admitted we were powerless over alcohol—that our lives had become unmanageable.
Yep. No problem there. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to look around and realize that.

Step 2: Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.
I’m with ya. I can see the movings of God in my life, when I allow Him to enter, and truly realize the power he has to restore order and sanity to my world.

Step 3: Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.
Whoa! Stop right there. This is where I stumbled when I read through the steps. Turn my will and my life over to God? Not so sure I can do that. Directing my life and exerting my will is what I DO. My husband’s alcoholic behavior has eroded my sense of trust so deeply that I’m not sure I can trust anyone — not even GOD — with my life.

It would be easy enough to tick past this step with a nod and a “yep.” But if I’m being completely honest, I am not ready to yield to the will of God over my own. So how do I get through this?

I think the first step is prayer. “Dear God, please open my heart to be able to give you my life and my will…” Saying that short prayer over and over is part of my plan. But moving from words to action, well…that could take some time.

I’m really not in a hurry. Like losing weight, I think the slower I move through these steps, the more likely the outcome — serenity — will stay with me. So I’m not going to look ahead to Step 4 or beyond. I’m not setting a deadline for myself for getting through Step 3. I’m just letting God know that I need him on this one, which, I think, is a step in the right direction.

I’ll cry if I want to

I don’t cry often. But I cried on Wednesday. As are most Wednesdays, it was an emotionally draining day for me. A feeling of being overwhelmed at work, followed by marriage counseling and Al-Anon at night. It was a day in which the tears seemed to have taken up permanent residence on the surface of my eyes.

I am really working on crying. It doesn’t come easily to me. Even when I get teary-eyed, I don’t often allow the drops to fall. I suck it up, stay strong and rationalize my way out of crying. When I showed up at marriage counseling, having asked my husband to bring me a mini bottle of wine for the session — I was serious, but he didn’t do it — it didn’t take long for my emotions to show.

“You look sad,” said our counselor.

“I am.”

“My job,” she said, “is to get you to stay in that sadness until you’re done with it.”

Uh? At $50/hour, that’s gonna be expensive. I think she must get a bonus for actually making me cry.

For me, crying shows a vulnerability that I don’t want to face. Holding it together, being the strong one in the face of adversity, that’s the image I want others to have of me. Yet, I am learning that sometimes it takes great strength of character to accept the pain that comes with — that calls up — a good cry.

So I cried there in our counseling session, feeling very uncomfortable crying in front of my husband, the one person I should feel most comfortable sharing my feelings with. But I did cry.

I went to Al-Anon that night and asked someone to be my sponsor. She, in the very nicest way possible, sort of declined. She agreed to be my temporary sponsor, to help me meet others who might be more available to sponsor me. While I understood and respected her perspective and was grateful for her offer to help, I couldn’t help but feel rejected. Then someone in the meeting who just rubs me the wrong way corrected me, privately, for something I had suggested. It all added up to one big reason to cry.

So I went home and I sat with my husbanded and opened my heart to him, allowing him to see my hurt and to just be there for me, when normally I would have stuffed those feelings of rejection and shame to a place where I didn’t have to deal with them, adding one more brick to the wall around my heart.

Recently I read Psalm 51:19 which says “My sacrifice, God, is a broken spirit.” I’m trying to remember that in those times of brokenness when I am able to let the tears flow, I am giving a gift to the God — and when I choose, the husband — who loves me.