“Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.”—Step 2 of Alcoholics Anonymous
That phrase starts the spiritual journey for thousands of alcoholics and addicts each year. It is a simple thought. There is no dedicated action needed. It requires minimal effort. All I have to do is understand that there is something greater than I am, a higher power. I also have to believe that this power can help conquer my obsession and compulsion to consume drugs and alcohol. If I just believe those things, I will no longer battle that insanity. As far as a discussion of higher powers go, it can’t get more simple. I don’t have to believe, I will eventually believe in something as long as I stay sober.
When Bill W. wrote step two he must have felt that he covered all of his bases. He may have even patted himself on the back a little. After all, he wasn’t mandating a religion. Not with this step. This phrase shows little interest in forcing anyone to pursue a particular dogma. He may have even thought, “Well, no one can argue with that.” Oh poor, poor Bill. He couldn’t fully anticipate how complicated I can make such a simple statement.
When I first started thinking about putting down the bottle, I was absolutely sure that nothing outside of me forced me to drink or could help me stop. I was always in control of when, where and how often I popped a top on a beer, twisted the cap on a fine wine or broke the paper seal on a plastic liquor bottle. From start to finish, I was the man in charge. (Ooooo. I was so wrong.) For me, there was no reason to rely on an anonymous group, especially one that professed a need of a deity’s help. I only thing I believed in self-reliance. But, I am getting ahead of myself. Let’s back up for a second.
Self-Reliance = Higher Power?
Around the last four years of my time in active addiction, I began to get the feeling that something was wrong with the way I drank. There were obvious signs. I couldn’t keep a bottle of liquor in the house. Well, only an empty one. Every place I liked to eat served alcohol and every hotel where I wanted to stay had a bar. I rarely spent more than a few hours outside of work before I had a drink in hand. But, I missed those obvious signs completely. My feeling came from a very different source.
My Ex-wife had to attend mandated counseling as a part of her first DUI agreement. After a particularly argumentative creative discussion about her need to attend one of the appointments instead of staying I bed all day, I was invited to tag along to the next one. I naively thought I needed to be there as a show of support. However, once the door closed, and we all sat down in overstuffed leather chairs, her counselor explained to me that my drinking led to my Ex-wife’s DUI. That is some superpower boozing if you ask me. In fairness, the counselor did not explain my fault in clear-cut terms or in such a straight line. The gist of the discussion was simple: If I didn’t have a drinking problem, the Ex would not have made decision that led to a DUI in another state 3,000 miles away while I was working.
In my basic understanding of booze consumption one person drinking doesn’t get another person a DUI. Still, the two squirrels that run around in my head got together and suggested that I quit drinking. It should be easy the squirrels told me. Just use WILL power. That first attempt lasted a solid week, maybe. Like many of my attempts to stay dry, it ended after the Ex repeatedly offered me glasses of wine. It’s not an excuse it is just true.
Changing Thought Patterns
Honestly, I didn’t want to quit drinking. I just wanted to prove I could. Satisfied that I proved my point, and hoping that I had lowered my tolerance enough to drink a little less and still get a buzz, I returned to drinking. This time, my drinking increased rapidly. I got blasted nearly every weekend. In short order, I was in a psychiatrist’s office. It was my choice, mostly, and I discovered the cause for my drinking. According to the doctor, I had an anxiety disorder that I “self-medicated” with alcohol. Now, I had a reason to drink! Surely, with this explanation I was absolved of needing to solve this problem. Instead of writing a prescription for a six-pack-a-day, this quack suggested attending Alcoholics Anonymous and taking a prescription drug to manage anxiety.
After reading the first three of the 12 steps, I knew AA was not going to be a part of my treatment plan. I was not an alcoholic. I had a medical condition that required me to drink booze. (You are sensing the irony, right?) Besides, there was NO WAY I was falling for this pseudo religion garbage of a power greater than I was. Every person in the South knows that is just another way to say God. I had sworn off religion when I was in my 20s and had no plan to be a part of a cult.
Before someone gets angry enough write a letter, I don’t think the same about religion or A.A. now. When I rolled into a treatment center and finally read the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous, I felt trapped. Four years of lying about my drinking to psychiatrists and counselors put me right back to the first suggestion of trying A.A. But, plain as day in the second step was the reason I would never, ever accept this program. There was no sky daddy or heavenly Santa Claus to bail me out of my trouble. No matter how broad the phrasing, I would never find a god to rely on to help me overcome my alcoholism.
Lost in my Search for Higher Powers
I was ready to pack up and hit the nearest liquor store. At the same time, I was terrified, that if I did, I would die. The only thing I knew when I was sitting in the treatment center is that I was an alcoholic who desperately wanted a different life. Perhaps, as I have heard some people say, I was not desperate enough. I was not humble enough to accept suggestions so I should in their words try drinking again. Fortunately, I didn’t listen to those people. I met a wise man who got rid of my fears of higher powers and conceptions of gods by keeping it simple. His advice was to stay sober one day at a time and not worry about it.
What the wise man knew is that my brain was hell-bent on finding confusion and excuses to drink at every turn. My brain exploited my fears and doubts and shouted that clarity and calm would only be found in a bottle. What I needed right then was to stop listening to the two squirrels in my head. The wise man knew that if I stayed sober long enough a simple answer to my problem would emerge. There was no need to pretend to find a god or mimic others’ solutions. And, there was absolutely no reason to get more humility by getting drunk. Slowly, over several days, the first dim flicker of understanding began to turn to a steady glow.
I was shocked to find that when it came to drinking, I had no control. Despite my contrary belief, alcohol had power over me. Sure, I opened the first bottle. From that point, however, I never knew how many empty bottles I would leave in my wake. At the very end of my drinking career, I couldn’t even force myself to avoid opening the first one every morning. If I needed to find a power greater than me, this was good enough. Unfortunately, I also couldn’t trust booze to help me do anything other than get drunk.
A Break Through
Still, that meager start helped me understand the concept of the second step. I am not a god (gasp). I don’t know everything and I can’t do everything. In early sobriety, I could not trust myself to make rational decisions because the two squirrels were still trying to figure out how to sneak booze into my diet. If I was still not sane, I had to find something I could trust to help guide me. It was that simple. I had to put my trust and faith in something greater than me. Once I latched onto that concept, I realized higher powers surrounded me.
There are powers greater than me everywhere I look, and I rely on them daily. Need proof? Gravity. I don’t fully understand it, but it keeps me on the planet instead of floating into space. That is a pretty cool higher power in my book. Or how about the sun. As my wife, Nina, pointed out when I was mad at myself for getting sunburned. I am not more powerful than the sun. It is the freaking sun! While those powers proved I am by far not the most powerful force, I still didn’t see trusting them to restore my sanity. That took more days of staying sober and attending meetings.
When I really listened in meetings, I began to hear other people in recovery share knowledge about living sober that I knew nothing about. Then, when I tried some of their suggestions, I realized the suggestions helped. Those groups of people were definitely a power greater than myself who were helping restore me to sanity. And while no light shone down from on-high, I realized I had found what I needed for step two.
My Higher Power Today
Today, my higher power is the collective knowledge of others that are a part of or pass though my daily life. I listen and look for better ways to live sober from everyone who crosses my path. My life in sobriety is definitely a “we-not-me” approach. I don’t need to continue to search for a name of a deity on whom to rely. I am quite comfortable relying on a collective group of people as my higher power. So comfortable that I don’t even get edgy when someone suggests that I don’t have a “true” higher power or that I will one day understand what they have found. I also don’t try to convince anyone that they need to follow my belief system. Just like the wise man I met in treatment, I keep it simple. If what you are doing keeps you sober don’t change it.
Who knows what my journey in sobriety will bring and what scheme my two squirrels will develop to confuse me when life changes. By trusting others and staying open to suggestions, I have faith that my own thoughts will stay grounded in reality. To me, that is all step two is really about. I had to accept that I needed help to stay sober. There is no need to fret, worry and overcomplicate things like I did. Just don’t drink and stick with people who are living sober. The rest will fall into place.
