I love The Promises. They are dog-eared in my copy of the AA Big Book and are definitely one of the more frequent passages I turn to. I'll never forget hearing them for the first time. Very new to sobriety and recovery, my reaction was a firm 'yeah, right!' It was inconceivable to me at that time that I could Recover from my addiction, let alone experience any of the things listed out. How one's perspective can change.
As I have gained time and worked my program, I have indeed been 'amazed half-way through'. I have found a new sense of freedom. I have come to know peace--something I never in a million years thought I could find. The passing of living in fear and of financial insecurity are nothing to be sneezed at, either. Nowadays, when I hear The Promises read at meetings, it brings a smile to my face. I confess, I mentally put a checkmark next to each. I am filled with gratitide and a joyful amazement. I never would have thought it possible, but they really do come true.
However, there are many things that aren't included in that list.
They do not say that our familial relations will be repaired. They do not say we will achieve reconciliation with the loved ones we have harmed. They don't say we will be rich. They don't say we will have healthy relationships, not with people of either sex or our significant others. They most certainly don't say, "all your dreams will come true."
I've heard it shared in meetings a couple of times that the only thing the program really promises is freedom from active addiction. Period. That's what it's for; that's what the twelve-steps do: they show us one way to live without getting loaded. And the Big Book is very clear on this point. If you can find another way to live without getting loaded besides the program, then more power to you. I think that perspective is a bit harsh, and can be discouraging to newcomers, but the point is a very valid one. The things missing from the list are not missing by accident.
My romantic relationships have almost always been chaotic and disastrous. Even in Recovery, they continue to be. I have friends who waited a long time before attempting to date again, much longer than the suggested time of one year. Many in Recovery refer to romantic relationships as 'the last frontier'. This tongue-in-cheek comment is usually grumbled. It is one of the more unfortunate truths of Recovery. Most of us, myself included, do our best to remember that romantic relationships are difficult for everyone, but that can be small comfort. I've heard more than one old timer say that when they feel attracted to someone they just met, they run the other direction as fast as they can.
I battle loneliness. I battle feelings of failure. These two join together and create a terrifying force when I attempt a relationship. Or to date someone. Or to even just give a woman a call. The addict side of my brain feasts on my insecurities. You could say it's Uncle Steve's favorite dish. There are many ways my disease tries to tear me down. Fighting against it on this issue often seems impossible. Sometimes I can overcome it. Sometimes not. Even if I do prevail, it is an exhausting struggle. I try to remember that, were it not for my Recovery, I would not have a clear enough head to even try.
I do know that I have no more desire to cause chaos in my life or others'. I have put girlfriends and wives through Hell. Even in Recovery, I have still caused far more chaos in women's lives than I would prefer. I remind myself that the goal is progress, not perfection. A big part of what my Recovery has done is to give me the option to stop causing others pain and to stop hurting myself. I may end up like those old timers who run the other way, but I hope not. Like so much else, I can do my part and the rest is up to God.
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