What I value

I used to dread the day when the past year’s income tax returns were due. Of course, when I was using, I assumed I was exempt from needing to pay taxes, so I rarely filed. I also figured that since the government seemed to have enough money of its own, I had license to get creative those few years I did happen to send in a tax return. In other words, I cheated.

After I was clean a couple of years, I was blessed with a sponsor with whom I was able to get honest about my resentments against authority and the government. Although I admitted my negligence in not paying taxes, I thought I might get a pass from my sponsor when it came to making amends. I had all kinds of justifications and rationalizations: how paying my back taxes might harm my family or might lessen my ability to gain employment and benefit my community; or that the government had stolen land from people all around the world, so it wasn’t righteous enough to take my money. I was prepared to talk my way out of this obligation with all my remaining slickness, but my sponsor would have none of it, and simply told me to pay the taxes I owed. He assured me that I’d feel relieved once I had completed this and the other amends on my list. After several years of payment schedules and tight budgeting, I no longer owed anyone any money, including Uncle Sam. It’s hard to describe how right my sponsor was when he reassured me that these amends would allow me to feel freedom and relief.

I don’t dread tax time anymore. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not overjoyed at turning over my cash. But I understand the obligation, and I’m willing to comply with the laws. In fact, I‘ve found that preparing my taxes has encouraged me to take an annual financial inventory. It’s been amazing to see just how much I spend on different items. In a sense, it’s a good way to see what I value. This is especially true when I look at my spending in areas beyond the necessities of housing, food, and utilities. I can tell you I’m not a big theater- or moviegoer, and I like to buy many more books than I read.

This annual obligation has also helped me take a good look at what causes, charities, public service organizations, and relief efforts I support. The amount of money I donate has grown as my earning ability has increased. I suppose that makes sense, since everything we consume has increased in price over the years. When I got clean, a gallon of gas cost $1.25; a pack of cigarettes was $1.50; a loaf of bread cost 55 cents; and water was free since it came out of the faucet and went straight into a glass. Back then, I put $1.00 in the basket.

Many things have changed since I got clean. Most of the things I consume have doubled or tripled in price. Now I am fortunate enough each year to be able to donate an amount almost as great as the dreaded back tax bill I owed when I first got clean. Yet, this year I realized I’m still putting $1.00 in the basket, and I haven’t established a system of regular, planned giving to the fellowship that saved my life.

So this year I’ve decided to do something about it, and here’s my plan:

• I’ll put at least $2.00 in the basket, and when I can spare it, $5.00. That’s the equivalent of the inflation rate of a gallon of gas.

• On my recovery anniversary, I’ll donate $10.00 to NA World Services for every year I’ve been clean.

• I’ll set up a monthly donation plan to NA World Services, just like I have with other organizations. (I went to the NA website and found it’s pretty easy to do this by using the donations portal.)

• I’ll remember to share my blessings—when I get a bonus or a raise, I’ll make sure that my giving reflects my good fortune.

I know I might not work this plan perfectly, but I’ve learned from so many of my friends in the fellowship that if I really commit to this, and have some continued encouragement, I’ll be successful and will find more of that freedom my original sponsor told me about. He’s dead now, but I’m sure he would be happy to know that I’m continuing to grow in my recovery.

Khalil, Georgia, USA

Surrender

Surrender is my favorite spiritual principle. When I act on it, I usually realize that had I surrendered way back in the beginning of the situation, I would have saved myself a whole lot of suffering.

One way of surrendering is to “turn it over” to my Higher Power. It’s amazing that when I ask, I get an answer—not always the one I want, but the one that works if I surrender to it.

Seven years ago, when I started working the steps from the Step Working Guides with my sponsor, the answer to my prayers for guidance would usually be to surrender to the situation and write on whatever step I happened to be on at the time. Somehow that step—whichever one it was—would give me a perspective that I could understand and accept.

One of these times, a conflict arose between myself and someone I love. I wrote endlessly on the step I was on at the time. I finally came to the conclusion that what I wanted was peaceful resolution so the knot in my stomach would go away. Finally, I surrendered to the situation. I couldn’t change the other person’s perceptions, so I surrendered trying to be “right.” I learned that I need to do things differently in this area with this person in the future. It’s more important to me to have serenity than to have that person acknowledge that I am right.

Also, surrender keeps me in the “now.” My disease loves it when I am regretting the past and worrying about the future. Self-centered fear is at the core of our disease. I’ve done my share of regretting my past and anticipating disasters in the future, but when I can be in the moment and admit my powerlessness over the past and future, I can be serene and content. One day while I was first in detox, I was outside smoking a cigarette with a fellow patient. He asked me for my definition of success. After thinking for a moment, I answered that success, to me, was being able to put my head on my pillow at night and feel at peace. When I surrender to my powerlessness, I am able to do that. Maybe that’s why surrender is my favorite spiritual principle—because it allows me to feel that my life is a success. Cathy Y, Barcelona, Spain

Parting sorrow

My name is Shawn. I’m a recovering addict and a member of the Hole in the Wall Group at Oregon State Penitentiary. I started using at age five or six with my older brother and the drug dealer who lived in our camper in the backyard. From age eleven on, I was raised in boys’ homes and cages as addiction took its natural progression from my early using to the extremes. I can’t remember really having fun or enjoying being high. It was just an escape, a numbing of the reality that was my life—anything to change the feelings or shut them off, even for just a few miserable hours. But no matter how fast or far I ran, I couldn’t get away from me! No matter where I went, there I was.

Today I’ve chosen to live my life clean, facing my problems and feelings head-on. What a relief that has turned out to be. I know God didn’t design me to be high and disengaged from life.

No matter where I went,
there I was.

Not too long ago, my best bro and I were selected to interview each other for a public radio project: a collection of oral histories that were recorded all over the United States, aired on the radio, and stored in the Library of Congress. My friend shared about his certainty that he would someday be released from this institution. Twenty-five days after our interview was played on the radio, my friend was found dead of an overdose on the floor of his cell.

This guy was a loving husband and father with thirteen children and twelve grandchildren. He had a larger-than-life persona and knew how to be a friend. If anyone needed help, he was always there. He was a gentle giant of a man. He started showing up at meetings, but his attendance was sporadic. I thank God we had enough of a program to love him no matter what. He had a lot of anger, shame, and despair in him. Sometimes he would talk about it, but he could not—would not—work the steps.

My friend died of our disease, and not a day goes by that I don’t miss him and feel the pain of this loss. My grief cuts deep. He has now found his freedom and peace. Every day, I remember that no matter what, we don’t have to end this way. Today, I know the scope and true meaning of powerlessness.

Shawn F, Oregon, USA

Everything to gain

I was convinced early in my life that no one truly cared for or loved me. I would go to whatever extremes necessary to gain any type of friendship. I found myself among those who used drugs. I wasn’t pressured to use by my new friends, but they seemed so happy, and I wanted what they had.

As I used, I began losing family, friends, possessions, and self-respect. I was in the process of a divorce when I began another relationship, but I didn’t trust myself, so how could I trust anyone else?

My finances were in ruin as well.  I pawned everything I owned. I should have been the owner of the store because so much of what was in there was mine. I was always able to keep a job, but everything I earned went to drugs.  I had the desire to stop using, but didn’t know how. I had relied on myself for too long. I developed into a controlling, self-centered, inconsiderate woman. I was killing myself.

A moment of clarity sank in one day when five friends came to my apartment. One had fifty cents, another had a quarter, and amoung all of us, we had five dollars. Though we were all hungry, needless to say we didn’t purchase food, and the drugs we bought simply made the cravings worse. I realized my drug use was only a small symptom of my problem. I needed help. I knew I couldn’t do this anymore. I was desperate and needed to surrender my will for God’s will in my life. I went to the daycare to say good-bye to my children. I packed a few items, quit my job, and left my apartment with everything in it. When I went into rehab I had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

I had tried to keep a home, a job, and my children; but I was powerless. It was when I surrendered that I began my spiritual awakening. In working the steps, I saw that my behavior patterns had stayed the same. Through working Steps Four and Five, my issues became more apparent and I have been able to understand many defects of character that formerly led me astray. God’s help also allowed me to overcome many shortcomings. I strive daily to become stronger, to love myself for who I am, and to be of service to another suffering addict. The steps produce a new way of living, and they have provided me with hope to make it one more day. I have to say that, for me, Steps Four and Five made the biggest difference in my world. There is no doubt that if I don’t change, my clean date will. Regina C, Texas, USA

Self-sponsorship

During my recovery, I’ve periodically lapsed into sponsoring myself. If I were the only addict who had ever done this, it would be humiliating, but not worthy of writing an article for The NA Way. However, it seems this resistance to allowing others to help us is common among addicts. So, if you answer “yes” to any of the following questions, then maybe you, too, have some experience with self-sponsorship:

1. When you were new, did you resist getting a sponsor, because you didn’t want anyone telling you what to do?

2. Was your first sponsor a “temporary” sponsor, because you feared making long-term commitments?

3. Have you asked someone to sponsor you, and then not called for days, weeks, or months because you didn’t know what to say?

4. Do you not call your sponsor because he or she appears to be busy or tired?

5. Have you changed sponsors three or more times because you didn’t like their feedback?

6. Do you avoid calling because you don’t want to hear what your sponsor will say?

7. Do you ever feel grateful that you got your sponsor’s answering machine?

8. Have you lied to your sponsor?

9. Have you taken service positions without talking to your sponsor first, and then felt overwhelmed by the demands of the positions? Did you ever quit a service position without talking to your sponsor first?

10. Have you ever really needed to talk to your sponsor, but when you called, said you were just checking in?

11. Did you ever wait to call your sponsor about a problem until you figured out the solution? 

12. Do you talk to your sponsor about day-to-day activities, but not about the steps and your recovery program?

13. Do you give yourself reading or writing assignments on the steps, instead of asking for help?

14. When you have a sponsee with a problem beyond your experience, do you seek your sponsor’s experience?

15. Have you asked your sponsor for direction on an issue, only to be reminded that you have not followed the direction you were already given on the same problem? Or, do you argue with your sponsor and refuse to follow his or her direction?

16. Did you ever start over on step work or an inventory because it was so long since you had worked on it that you couldn’t find your previous writing?

17. Have you kept a sponsor who was physically ill and unavailable, rather than asking someone else to sponsor you?

18. When your sponsor died or moved away, did you resist getting another sponsor because no one could ever replace him or her?

Simply put, self-sponsorship is the resistance against seeking and accepting the love and experience of a sponsor. This can lead to delayed or inferior solutions to the problems we face, isolation from fellow addicts, and eventual relapse. Not all sponsors are perfect—but even with their imperfections, allowing a sponsor to help can significantly increase the likelihood that we’ll be able to stay clean and have more rapid relief when we do face troubles.

Despite my periodic lapses into self-sponsorship, all of the significant, positive, life-changing experiences in my recovery have occurred through working the steps with a sponsor.  Give yourself a chance to let go of your mistrust, anger, resentment, fear, and loneliness and get a sponsor. As they told me when I got here: Try it for thirty days, and if it doesn’t work, we’ll refund your misery.

Craig PW, California, USA

“The Twelve Steps of Madness”

1. We admitted we were powerless over nothing, that we could manage our own lives perfectly as well as the lives of any other people who would allow us to do so.

2. We came to believe there was no higher power for us, and that the rest of the world was nuts.

3. We made a decision to have our loved ones put their lives and their will in our care.

4. We took a fearless moral inventory of all those who we know.

5. We pointed out to everyone we knew the exact nature of their defects.

6. We were entirely ready for everyone else to do the right thing.

7. We demanded that everyone change or get out of our life.

8. We made a complete list of everyone who had harmed us, and we became willing to go to any length to get revenge.

9. We took direct revenge on all these people whenever possible, except when to do so could cost us our lives or put us in jail.

10. We continued taking everybody else’s inventory, and when they made a mistake, we quickly and persistently reminded them.

11. We looked for a way to develop a relationship with a higher power that would do everything our way.

12. Having had a complete physical, emotional, and spiritual collapse as a result of these steps, we tried to blame others, and we searched for sympathy and pity in all our affairs.

Adapted from an article printed in Juntos,
the Ecuadorian Magazine of Narcotics Anonymous

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