Tag Archives: 12-step

Remain upright

“Remain upright,” my friend Philip said at the end of our Saturday morning phone call.

“Ha, ha,” I wanted to say, but he was referring to the two falls I had in the previous week—one when I stepped on a patch of black ice while walking the dog and the other when the dog bolted while still attached by leash to my left arm. Down I went both times, although the ice fall was the more painful of the two falls.

But I am someone who rarely falls, so these two are reminders to pay attention when I am out walking, and perhaps to accept that my winter dog-walking days might be behind me.

Later that same Saturday, a friend called and told me her husband had fallen on the snow and hurt his knee. I asked her to pass along Philip’s advice to her husband: “Remain upright.”

Over the next week, I heard about two other people who fell on the ice and ended up with broken femurs. Ouch.

We are having a particularly wintery winter this year, with snow, ice and gusting winds (think snow drifts). There is ice everywhere, sometimes buried beneath a fresh dusting of snow, so it is bound to happen that people are falling.

I have also been pondering what this advice means for my spiritual life. “Remain upright,” I keep telling myself.

I think of the Spirit’s movement in my life, moving like the wind and shaking things up. I think of keeping my focus on Jesus and His message of love, acceptance and forgiveness. I think of remaining firm in my faith.

In the spiritual journey, we can encounter icy patches that can bring us down. Falling is part of the journey, part of life. We all fall. Getting back up and stepping back onto the path is the challenge.

In my twelve-step fellowship, we are reminded at each meeting that we are not alone. “Look around you,” our meeting begins, “and you will see others who know how you feel.”

It is true that we all fall. Having the courage to get up again, to ask for help from those around us, and to get back on the path is how we can remain upright.

Forgiveness

Early in my adult life, I realized that people hurt out of their own hurt, their own brokenness. That realization came from a combination of being hurt and then acting out of my own pain in hurtful ways.

Within months of getting married, I learned that my husband had been unfaithful to me. I was deeply hurt that he had betrayed me, and I knew that something inside me had been broken in a way I did not think could be healed. He would not accept responsibility for the pain he had caused me, nor did he apologize.

I had been raised in a family that did not seek outside help. “Don’t air your dirty laundry,” was the often-quoted rule in my house.

As a child, I had learned to swallow my pain and get on with life. As an adult, I followed that same pattern and kept my husband’s betrayal to myself. Over time, other hurts piled on top of that one, and within a few years, I was in a deep depression.

I was ill-equipped to deal with my psychological and emotional pain. I remember thinking that my pain was so pervasive that even my skin hurt.

Nothing I did seemed to help and, at the same time, nothing I did seemed to matter to me or anyone else. I was locked in some kind of bubble that kept me in and others out. People may have suggested therapy, but I could not do it; I could not air my dirty laundry.

I was on a path of self-destruction and took risks that no sane person would take (like picking up hitchhikers and bringing them home for the night).

Out of that place of desperation, I did things that hurt other people. I did not intend to hurt anyone, but my self-destructive behavior created a trail of unintended damage. Lost in my own pain, I could not see how I was hurting anyone else.

Eventually, I did go into therapy and then a twelve-step program, and that changed my life.

Once I realized the harm I had caused, I was truly sorry, and I apologized. I worked on atoning for the damage I had done through prayer and service. I became hyper-vigilant about the possibility of causing harm or offending.

Bible verses about forgiveness (and there are almost 500 of them) helped me see how important it was to ask for forgiveness, to forgive those who had hurt me and to forgive myself. I saw that there was a connection between asking for forgiveness and forgiving—it is a both/and, not an either/or.

forgiveness-God-vulnerability

To withhold forgiveness, I realized, only hurts me. It is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die. He or she may not even know I am holding a grudge, so how can that impact them? All that anger would just sit inside me and fester.

Forgiveness is one of the most difficult—and one of the most transformative things—in life.