Acceptance

This evening I’m once again scheduled to meet with my sponsor to do Step Eight which is, “Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.” My sponsor cancelled the previous attempt at the last minute and dragged his feet (in my mind) on rescheduling. I’m nervous but ready.

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I’ve found two AA meetings this week particularly powerful. The topics were “Acceptance” and “...God is doing for us what we couldn't do for ourselves,” which comes from the Step Eleven promises (page 84) in The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous.

Acceptance 1

A key fact that I have trouble accepting is that my alcoholism is but a symptom of my emotional and mental problems – my “disease” in AA-speak. I’m not cured of that disease. It is still there, still progressing in some ways. It is a disease that is treatable on a daily basis. I have a daily reprieve based on my spiritual condition (which is based on a lot of other things). Each day I must take medicine in the form of my AA program, and there is not an AA-CR (controlled release). To be effective it must be taken each day starting in the morning with doses throughout the day.

I continue to have a hard time accepting this fact, and more importantly, making the right decisions that would be easy to make if I could accept it. Decisions such as: Upon arising should I read my inspirational books, pray and meditate or should I read the newspaper, or (worse) should I check my email to see if there is someone I can “meet” today? Should I go to a meeting even though it’s raining and the traffic will be awful? Should I talk to another alcoholic when I’m struggling or just ride it out alone?

There are still many, many occasions where I don’t choose the healthy option. And there are usually consequences for that later in the day, or the next day, or the next. But I still can’t accept that I have to do things I don’t want to do. Or more honestly, I still can’t accept that I have been given the gift of having the option to do things I know will GIVE me another reprieve from my disease and its symptoms. A gift that so many relatives and friends, now gone, were not given.

But God does for me what I still can’t do for myself. When I don’t take my AA medicine, my life goes to hell. I plan and host a huge self-pity fiesta. Then I feel like shit. Then I grudgingly take my medicine. You guys have witnessed the ugliness, even walked me through it. Led me to the medicine cabinet. Done for me what I can’t do for myself.

But sometimes I wonder if the time will come when I roll the dice again and the medicine cabinet will be empty after the party. Gifts given can be taken away. I have relatives and friends who could no doubt tell me about that...if they were still around.

Acceptance 2

It’s evening. Bedtime is closing in. I feel good. My wife doesn’t. For me sll is well. She’s hosting her own pity party. My children and I have been invited…in fact, it's a command performance. Now I don’t feel so good. I hate her. How can this work? How can we stay married? Can’t she see how I’m struggling even though I can’t (am afraid to) share it with her? How can she be pissed about something so petty? I’m going to bed. She can stay up and read and drink in her own little hell as long as she wishes. I want no part of that. I’m going to face away from her and clutch my huggy pillow. I’m not going to let my leg touch hers. That’ll show her!

Damn, she’s coughing again and it woke me up. She’s snoring away…lucky her…she can drink away the pain when she’s hurting. She can sleep on through till morning. But I have to lie here and listen to her and think some more about how pissed off I am and how unfair life is and how thoughtless she is. WHAT ABOUT ME?? She’s facing away. Not touching. Fine, I’m not going to be the first to touch her. We can just sleep together apart tonight.

Think think think. The meeting today. Acceptance. Loving someone just the way they are. I LOVE YOU JUST THE WAY YOU ARE. JUST. THE. WAY. YOU. ARE. EXACTLY the way YOU are. RIght now. At this moment. Not the way you almost are…the way I think you could be if you really wanted to please me. The way you are at this instant. With your back to me, snoring, emitting alcohol fumes.

You. The woman who was the little girl whose father left and never came back. You. The woman who doesn’t remember what her father looked like and can’t find out now because his image was surgically removed from all family photos and immolated in the backyard. You. The (one and only) woman I love to make love to. Make love not sex to. Really bonded. As one. Physically. You.

If I really loved you just the way you are, I would love you right now. I would not be facing away from you trying very hard to almost get my leg next to yours in case you want to make the first move and touch it but hell will freeze over before I make the first move because you were being so goddamned petty. But if I loved you just the way you are I would roll over, put my arm over you and hug you tightly. Like I love you. Just the way you are. Like I love you and never want to let you go.

I rolled over and hugged you to me. Like I’d never let you go. You deserved it.

And when I woke up that morning you were snuggled close to my back. Facing me. Touching me. And maybe even loving me just the way I am.