“So, when I finally took that moral inventory,” an AA said, “I found a common denominator in everything that was wrong— it was me.”
Whoa. Wait. What?
I am a common denominator in all my troubles?
What about (fill in the blank)?!
There certainly have been crazy mean people, weird places and horrible things that were beyond my control — but what about those times when I had a choice?
I really did make choices that were dumb and destructive, proving the adage: Nobody comes into the program at the top of their game.
By the way, just for the record: my game was so lame. I was never going to win a reprieve from prisons I let alcohol put me.
Resentments ruled; grievances grew, and alcohol became a more comfortable crutch.
There was always that mysterious barrier we could neither surmount or understand. It was as if we were actors on a stage, suddenly realizing we did not know a single line to our parts. (The 12 &12, Step 5, page 57)
Admitting to God and to another human being the exact nature of my wrongs, though showed me a way to get around that confounding barrier.
It was to go through the door God was willing to open for me. It’s not like He couldn’t see the mess I made of my choices.
Maybe, GOD-incidentally is a truer adverb.
I hate owning up to my contributions to where I let alcohol take me — and I hate seeing the common denominator I can still be when I skip over Step 5.
So, before I declare I am unwilling to see myself as a common denominator in the painful stuff life can bring, maybe I can say I am willing . . .
Recovery is not about having no problems — it’s about handling problems that once baffled us.