"Blown About"

It's so different--being centered as opposed to being blown about. I remember how it used to be. Every little thing would distract me, was cause for reaction, pulled me this way and that. It was like I lived in a permanent state of crisis-ready mode. Anything and everything that happenned, I responded to it in that way, as if it were a crisis. To say I wasn't grounded would be like saying clouds aren't grounded.

I'm not thinking of any particular incident today, just the general way in which I related to the world. Part of it was how I was taught to be in the world. Part of it was being desperate for any distraction from the emptiness inside me. The feeling of being lost demanded an escape. As a child, I found that I could escape through pretending to be happy and making others happy. As a teenager, I found my escape through adolescent love affairs--wildly dramatic ordeals full of chaos and melodrama. As I got older, it became drugs and alcohol.

My soul was crying out for peace. I remember that, remember doing that, from the time I was a little kid. I remember praying to God in pain and sorrow, "why does it have to be like this? Why does life have to hurt so bad? Why is the world so messed up and why is it out to get me???" The truth, of course, is that it doesn't have to be like that; that life doesn't have to hurt so bad; that the world really isn't out to get me. Fate is not at war with me. I was the one who was at war with the world because I hadn't yet learned how to accept some fundamental truths: that reality doesn't have to be the way I think it should; that it's not all about me; that I'm not in charge, God is.

It's crazy: just writing those words, just reaffirming that, here, on this page, I feel calmer.

I'm a big advocate for the Program being a spiritual practice to treat a spiritual disease. When I'm not being spiritual, when I'm being self-centered, it's a reversal of the natural order. I chase life around, trying to catch it. And of course I can't because that's not how it works. I'm not God; I can't bend and twist reality around to make it fit in with my designs. But when I am spiritually fit, I am at peace. I allow the world to be what it is, recognize it, accept it, and know that it's okay. Maybe life isn't what I want it to be, but that's just fine because it's not supposed to be. If I got everything I wanted all the time, well what does that create in me but a spoiled brat? It's the overcoming of adversity that builds strength, that allows me to become someone of character and integrity. An adult, yes? Someone who accepts what life throws at us with calm and peace, and doesn't stamp his foot and whine like a child.

If I'm reacting to life, then I'm not being present, in the moment. I'm not centered. It's only when I'm centered that I can truly act, and I act from a place of peace and calm. I make better decisions because I'm making them with a clear head, instead of the chaotic insanity of my diseased brain-state or in an intoxicated haze. This is what working the program of Recovery has done for me: allowed me to find peace, to recognize when my disease is controlling me, and to do something different instead of letting the disease dictate the way I conduct myself in the world.