When I understood almost everyone on my 4th Step list would land on my 8th Step List, I was horrified. There were folks in the resentment, fear, and sex columns upon whom the door was shut and the key tossed into the void. At the same time, I so vividly recalled my incomprehensible demoralization of character, the willingness remained steadfast. What kept me going also was the understanding that whatever was scrimped on in the Steps previous would come to bite me in the **** later. I’d had enough of **** biting and so continued to be as fearless and thorough as I could. Thankfully, the authors of our literature understood we had people in our lives where some time was needed before making inroads toward amends. The Big Book 8th Step describes making three lists: the as soon as possible list, the later list, and the are you out of your mind? I’ll-never-speak-to-that-person-again list.
With time and the river flowing, that last column of “no-never” became the best fodder for my soul. The eldest brother who beat, abandoned, and disowned me was no longer the fearful soldier coming out of Korea, the one I knew as a child. When we met for the amends, he was a cricket of an old man whose whole focus was his grandkids. While recounting my wrongs, the images of this personal Darth Vader faded. Seated before me was a white-haired, trembling oldster – how could I continue to carry the rock of hatred? I couldn’t. When he died, all that remained was gratitude for the Program to find lasting peace in my heart.
In the early days of recovery, I was a victim. A victim of my past. A victimhood that included incest, violence, abandonment, and disownment. Here’s to the canny sponsor who pointed out, “Yes.
All these terrible things happened, but your job is to look at your side of the street first. Later you may find yourself in Adult Children of Alcoholics Anonymous Meetings. But not now. It’s too
easy to carry on the victim role of ‘ain’t it awful’ and ‘look what they did to me.’ If we only look at what was done to you, you will never heal” She was right. Victims never heal.
I had a rolodex of favorite victim stories. I recall the day when I described my father’s untimely death when I was a child. How with that death, we lost everything: not only our beloved father/husband – our home, our possessions, our social standing as well. Everything was sold to stay afloat. We moved to a smaller home. At the age of 50 and not having worked in 20 years, Mom hunted for work. I was 15 and poured myself into a scotch bottle. A Ground Zero from which both my mother and I arose. After regaling my sponsor with this story, her response was, “That’s the biggest bunch of self-pity I’ve ever heard.” And that was my favorite story! Ouch!
With time I came to understand the death of my father and its attendant wounds were, of course, grief-worthy. It wasn’t so much about the grief as how I was holding that experience, making it an
ongoing wound and an excuse to drink. Once I grieved the situation appropriately through the 9th Step, the pain began to subside. “Pain was the price of admission into a new life. It brought a
measure of humility which we soon discovered to be a healer of pain. We began to fear pain less and desire humility more…
My sponsor offered the vision of how my father must have felt, leaving us with no money or support. “Imagine how your Dad felt in the hospital bed, knowing you were not provided for and no way out of the bed?” she asked. Compassion brought understanding. The understanding brought healing.
Sometimes, our part in things is how well we let go of past hurts. There’s the sponsee whose vengeance is upon her father. Her father abandoned her, her sister, and her mother for another woman. The father married the other woman, started a whole new family, and made a lot of money. Meanwhile the sponsee, her mother and sister were left in poverty and forced to live with their cranky grandmother. We can totally understand the grief and rage behind the experience. When she asked me, “What’s my part in this?” the response was, “How long ago did this happen?” For her it was 60 years past. Her part in this 9th Step process? Is to let go. Let go or get dragged.
It’s uncertain why we hang on to old wounds. It can be a lifelong habit that’s really hard to break. Maybe it’s the rush or heightened experience by keeping the rage and resentment alive. Even our 12 x 12 says, “There is no pat answer to fit all such dilemmas.” In the end, we choose between the hit or the serenity.