We who have been humbled in recovery have wrought a gentle strength. What was once twisted, corroded metal has now been forged in fire, purged of impurities. These scraps have been melded and molded into beams of steel, girding us through the tragedies and triumphs of life, ordinary and extraordinary alike.
It is a paradox that to have been brought to our knees, weakened and exposed, humiliated and shamed has allowed to be borne within us an inner pride, a calm power. We have stripped ourselves of all delusion and stared unflinchingly in the mirror in order to make ourselves keenly aware of not only our virtues, but of our many faults. And knowing our faults, we have learned by slow, tedious correction of them, to hold ourselves accountable. At the same time, we are cultivating a gentleness with ourselves - a compassion for who we are and who we have not yet become.
I have written and said often that sobriety is my super power. Those of us who know this truth - who live it - know that it comes not from focusing on our virtues but in dissecting and understanding our faults, our failings. We have come to unique terms with our past misdeeds and miraculously come to a truce with our Maker - or with Nature, as it were - we have learned to see ourselves not with hatred or shame, for these painful things have been companions of ours, some times our only companions.
In turning a bright light and a clean mirror upon ourselves, in scrutinizing our own motives, a clear yet undaunting picture has arisen.
Too much we viewed those around us with contempt, resentment. Too often we blamed them for the breakdown of companionship. Too long we were alone with our self loathing. And yet we had to crawl that thorny path in order to come to the broad, flat road in the sun, lined with flowers and safe from strife.
It is not the sobriety itself, mind you; sobriety itself is just the key which unlocks the gate into new life.
After some sobriety, we can honestly, solemnly sit with the pieces and hold them or discard them, mend them or leave them broken. We can begin to inspect without turning away in disgust. How? How can it be? It is too broken, too shameful, too difficult! The pieces, the histories, the deeds make us stop and our stomachs lurch. We are faced with the mystery of why did we do that? And how did we do that? How COULD we do that? But we did. We did those things, we believed those things, we felt that way, we blamed and pointed fingers and refused to take the ownership only we could take.
And after a careful mending, a painstaking inventory of ourselves we have come to a certain meager pride in that which before had made us hide our faces in shame.
For many of us, we could never have done it alone and we did not do it alone. We had our fellows with us, whose hearts saw us in those cold beginnings as we truly wished to be: happy, joyous - FREE. We had our Maker with us of our own conception, a still small unknown mystery to whom we could cry out, which we would curse or implore in turn. That Source bore our frustration, our resentment, our questioning and longing, giving us strength when we had none.
And did for us what we could never have done for ourselves.
Comentarios