Let it go
We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it.
Promise #3, Alcoholics Anonymous p83-84
One of the first things that attracted me to Alcoholics Anonymous was the level playing field.
No matter how old or cultured or educated or successful anyone there was, they all made unfortunate choices and did boneheaded things. Their sheer humanity won me over.
We’ve all done stuff we’re not exactly proud of.
For my whole life (especially the years following college) I was one big walking ball of shame, self loathing and regret. Suddenly, I found myself among people who understood. And these were good people. These were folks I was proud to call friends.
AA taught me that instead of existing in a state of lament, I needed to snap out of it, talk about it, learn from it, and hold myself accountable.
Here’s the guts of it:
All the terrible stuff I’ve done, all the painful things I’ve gone through, all the agony I’ve suffered is meaningless unless those experiences can be used to help other people.
That brings us to Promise #5:
“No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others.”
In the end, it’s all about service, and helping others.
I’ve also learned to embrace Rule 62: Don’t take yourself so damn seriously.
Rule 62 of Alcoholics Anonymous is all about taking that lighthearted perspective and applying it to your own life. The ability to laugh at yourself not only makes life more fun; it also makes you a lot more enjoyable to be around. Alcoholics love to laugh, and are quick to spot the humor in any situation.
My good friend John Sullivan was a lost soul, and a train wreck of a human being when he lurched into his first meeting. In time, as his true self slowly emerged, it became apparent this guy was a treasure trove of hysterical and meaningful stories.
One story he liked to tell involved coming out of a blackout on a jet airliner.
He nudged the man sitting next to him (the poor guy was minding his own business, wearing headphones, and enjoying some music) and asked, “Excuse me, where’s this plane going?” It immediately wiped the smile right off the guy’s face. He looked at John incredulously and said, “Chicago!” He then turned away, obviously hoping the maniac sitting next to him would go away. John nudged him again. “Excuse me. I have just one more question…Where are we coming from?”
This was one of John’s signature stories, and he told it very well.
It never occurred to me that that one day I’d be up at a podium relating those painfully tragic experiences I’d always carefully guarded, and shamefully kept to myself. Ironically, those stories actually proved to be gems, and a great source of humor.
HERE’S THE TAKEAWAY:
Remember, they’re called ‘The Promises’ for a reason. They really happen. If they didn’t, we’d call them, “The Contingencies”.