During July, my focus is on Step 7 - "Humbly asked (Higher Power) to remove our shortcomings." Overhearing my spouse's conversation with a program friend, the discussion about Step 6 & 7 rotated around the "entirely willing" aspect of 6, and the removal of defects that we ask for in 7. At first glance, these Steps can look like a one and done, and how does that possibly happen?
In actuality, Step 7 does not stand alone, but is the culmination of the process we started with Step 1, admitting powerlessness. In Step 2 we come to believe that we can be restored to sanity in regards to our lack of power. In Step 3, we make a decision to turn to a Power Greater than ourselves, which provides enough emotional safety to dive into the inventory process, gaining a clear picture of who we are and what needs correcting if we are to live this recovery life. In Step 7, we do the actual turning over, of "all of me," the whole kit & caboodle. The saving grace of Step 7, which is tucked away in the 12x12 chapter on Step 12, is that we ask that our shortcomings be removed, "such as (HP) could or would under the conditions of the day we asked" (p. 108). Not now and forever, but today. Today, when I am triggered, when I am tempted to react in the way I've always reacted, grant me the grace to pause, to choose a different response, to be conscious of what I'm saying and why. For me, Step 7 is the embodiment of the pause. I have a choice - to keep on roaring my way through the lives of others, or to say, "Wait a minute. I wanted this defect of character removed. What is my part in that process?" The longer I'm sober, the less I'm able to blame you for my reactions to life.
There's been a lot going on in this past week, in the world, in my world, and in the worlds of those I care about. Can I match calamity with serenity, as our literature suggests? Can I stay centered even when I'm upset? That is another of the many gifts of long term recovery - not that we become immune to life's ups and downs, but that the bounce-back comes more quickly, and that I'm usually able to maintain a sense of perspective. What I used to take very personally, I'm better able to see as simply life on life's terms.
As a small example of my upheavals this week, I will acknowledge that I am someone who doesn't let go easily, of people or possessions. I've recently been back in regular contact with the man I was with when I hit bottom, and this week, I mailed off a package of his belongings that I'd hung on to for all these years. Initially, in the throes of my dis-ease, I thought that if I had his things, he'd have to come back. Fantasy thinking, and corresponding with my level of emotional immaturity. Over time, we lost touch, but the little box stayed in the back of whichever closet I occupied. I don't throw things away lightly, and knew that someday, some way, I'd have the chance to amend my old, grasping behavior.
As I prepared the package for return to its rightful owner, I cried. I cried for the confused person I was, and for the depths of my addiction. I cried for the pain I caused during our breakup, ashamed that I wasn't able to act with integrity. And then I was hit with a wave of gratitude for the role my deep grieving played in bringing me to the place of desperation where I was willing to do anything to stop hurting. I don't buy the notion that "everything happens for a reason." What I do believe is that I can learn from whatever happens, to me or through me, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly.
I am so grateful for this journey. I am grateful that those kids were rescued from the cave in Thailand. I'm grateful that a friend came through a surgery, and that another's medical scare wasn't what he was afraid of. I'm grateful that the high drama at work is resulting in renewed vigor. I'm grateful that my television has an off button. I am grateful for the Steps and all that I continue to learn by applying their lessons to my life.
How does Step 7 manifest in your life today? How do you maintain your sense of serenity in the midst of life on life's terms?
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