Gimme, Gimme, Gimme!

Can you name many great businessmen from history? Perhaps names like Rockefeller, Ford, Carnegie, Jobs, and Musk come to mind?

How about great humanitarians? Perhaps names like Jesus, Mohamed, Siddhartha, Gandhi and Martin Luther King top the list?

Of these two groups, who would you prefer to have coffee with? I'm guessing most people will choose the latter... the humanitarians. 

We all would prefer to meet, dine, and chat with the humanitarians, yet so few of us strive to BE the humanitarians. Instead, we scrimp and claw for financial freedom and success. We yearn to reach the apex of stability and luxury, so we can put our feet up in comfort.

During the early days of the COVID Pandemic, a bizarre thing happened...  Mobs of frightened people rushed to their nearest market, clambering to clear the shelves. Did they want water, batteries, canned food, or matches? NO. They wanted TOILET PAPER. 

Panic stricken throngs, blinded by fear and selfishness, filled their carts with a year's supply of Charmin, leaving their neighbors with the unsavory option of wiping their backsides with leftover paper towels and napkins (which were soon gone, as well). They didn't give a thought to their immense selfishness -- their "Inconsiderate Meter" pinned squarely on "Me! Me! Mine!"

Human Nature.

But you are different. You have decided you will GIVE and not TAKE. As such, they find you, the "takers," and they take and take and take and take. They take what they need, what they don't need, and when they have enough, they demand "More! Give us more!" 

You turn your pockets out, "I have no more to give." 

"You don't care about us!" They cry. "You're selfish!"

Your limit reached, you are forced to set boundaries... that's when they turn on you. No longer are you the care-giver, the philanthropist, the saint; Now you are the greedy miser. The enemy.

"Wait!" you protest. "I gave you everything! Was that not enough for you to love me?"

"No." They say with a turn, "It was not."

Sadly, this is the world we live in. The world we've created. It is the antithesis of the message carried by every great thinker in the history of the world. 

If you were to have coffee with MLK, Gandhi, Buddha, Mohamed, or Jesus, and ask them the purpose of life, every one of them would give you the same answer: "Humility, selflessness, compassion."

To "take" is human. To "give" is divine.

Does God Let Bad Things Happen?

Why does God let bad things happen? Shouldn't a loving, benevolent God watch out for His children? If He's a God of good and justice, why doesn't He intervene and put a stop to evil and injustice?

I recently watched a video where a police officer was attacked by a mentally unstable transient man. The officer responded to a call from the property owner about the trespasser and approached the man, hoping to have a simple conversation. The suspect leaped to his feet, brandished a butcher knife, and stabbed the officer in the neck before he could get his hands out of his pockets.

The officer was a young man of 24, married with two young children, stabbed to death for no reason. 

Why did God let this happen?

The answer: Free Will.

To take it one step further, not only is this the answer to the question "Why does God let bad things happen," it's also the answer to the question, "Why are we here?"

Free Will.

It's the "Great Experiment": Create mankind, give each of them a moral compass, guidelines, and free will, then put them into a giant fishbowl and see how they treat one another.  Those who treat each other with kindness and grace are proven acceptable to enter into God's presence, those who don't... well, that's a hotly debated subject in many theological circles.  

It all hinges on "Free Will." We MUST be allowed to freely make decisions in order for this experiment to work. With decisions come consequences - sometimes good, sometimes bad. And bad consequences by bad actors means sometimes bad things happen to good people.

God doesn't want us to be good for Him, He wants us to be good to each other because it's the right thing to do. If He were to intervene on behalf of "good people," everyone would be good and there would be no "choice." The experiment would fail.

Free Will. Everyone has it. Even the terrorists who murdered thousands on 9/11. Everyone.

The real test is how we respond when bad things happen. Will we respond with grace and kindness? Or will we fly a plane full of innocents into a building?

God is watching.

Progress... not perfection.

What happened: I stopped at a local gas station to top of a rental truck that I was returning (I only needed to put $10 in the tank). I pulled up, waved my credit card in front of the "touchless sensor," the pump turned on, I started pumping.

Next thing I knew, an employee stormed out of the minimart, marched up to my vehicle, and began SCREAMING at me, accusing me of stealing gas from the woman who's car was parked three pumps away from mine.

"Whoa, whoa... what?" I responded. "I don't understand..."

"THAT'S HER PUMP!" He spat back. "YOU KNEW IT AND YOU'RE A THIEF!"

The misunderstanding: Apparently the woman decided to switch pumps, went inside, and put $20 on my pump. The genius (and I use the term sarcastically) employee didn't bother to check if the pump was free and turned it on at the exact moment that I waved my card in front of the reader.

Honest misunderstanding.

Rather than exercise common sense and decorum, this guy bolted out to the pumps and began slinging accusations and threats. He called me a thief, demanded that I pay her $20 (even though I only used $10), and threatened to call the police.

Immediately, I recognized what was going on. Calmly, I attempted to explain what had happened, thinking (erroneously) that the whole thing could be worked out via rational dialogue. But the calmer my demeanor, the more aggressive he grew. 

It became clear to me, all at once, that this idiot only understood the language of aggression. So I got aggressive.

I snapped and began heaving expletives upon this man the likes of which he had never experienced, as witnessed by his immediate change in demeanor. He was no longer advancing, but retreating back into the safety of his minimart, as a troll to its cave (as bullies are like to do).

I pursued, whipping a twenty dollar bill out of my wallet and slamming it onto the counter in front of him, "Break this so I can pay that woman the $10 I owe her, ya @&%# idiot!"

He scrambled for change in his register and sent me on my way, lobbing more insults over my should as I left. I paid the lady, apologized for the misunderstanding, and drove off.

Yes, I could have maintained my cool. I could have waved him off and walked away. I didn't. I snapped. 

I know what you're thinking, "Um... Guy... where's the progress?"

Valid question. Actually, there was all kinds of "progress" there... you just have to know where to look.

See, back in the day, there would have been no attempts at decorum, no "calm explanations." Back in the day, I would have immediately climbed down that dude's throat, put hands on him, and gone to jail.

BUT...

I tried to reason with him (for what felt like an inordinate amount of time) and I didn't lay a hand on him! You know what that's called? 

PROGRESS!

I don't have to be perfect. I just have TRY to be a little bit better today than I was yesterday. That's it!

Progress... not perfection.

Bill Wilson did LSD!

Did he? I don't know... I wasn't there. Who can say for sure? For the sake of argument, let's say he did... To quote my mother, "If Bill Wilson jumped off a cliff, would you?"

Hold onto your hats, I'm about to offer a controversial viewpoint -- people are bound to freakout, rip their clothing, and throw things -- but please, try to refrain from total anarchy. 

Are you ready? Here goes...  BILL. WILSON. WAS. NOT. GOD. 

There. I said it.

Maybe he did take LSD. So what? 

He was human, fallible, prone to mistakes. Just because Bill Wilson did something, doesn't mean it was the right thing to do. 

Human nature bends toward idol worship. We LOVE to create heroes out of mere mortals and place them on pedestals in order to deify their every thought, word, and deed. Such has become the fate of old Mr. Wilson! 

Make no mistake, Bill did NOT develop the concepts of AA so that YOU could stay sober... he developed them so HE could stay sober. He was a visionary and an early pioneer of sobriety -- he was not a prophet or cherubim sent from the Almighty to serve as a holy source of omniscient recovery. 

Bill would be the first to confess that he didn't have all the answers and that his journey down the path of sobriety was as flawed and bumbling as the drunk next to him! He never held himself up as an example of perfection, so why do we?

Yes, perhaps Bill did take LSD. Let's say (for fun) that he also tried heroin... or meth... or PCP... (who knows, he may have) is it then permissible to partake in those drugs and maintain that we are still sober?

I think we can all answer this question with a resounding "NO!"

If Bill Wilson did do these things, it doesn't mean he was sober... it means he was human. And that's okay. 

To rephrase my mother's query, "If Bill Wilson jumped off the wagon, into relapse, would you?"

Permission to Relapse

I once had a sponsee who constantly asked me for permission to relapse. 

Of course, he never came right out and asked, he just kept trying to find "loop holes" that I'd agree to. 

His first ploy, in his first month, was to get me to approve of him drinking non-alcoholic beer. Now, to be clear, I usually don't have a problem with a sober member drinking NA beer - You can't get drunk off it and it's your program, so do what you want. But with this particular sponsee, I knew it was deeper than that -- he was looking for an easier, softer way.

"Why bother with NA beer?" I asked. "Just pull the trigger and drink the real stuff. That's what you want."

He stepped back, aghast. "You WANT me to relapse?"

"No," I responded. "But clearly that's what you want. You're trigger-hunting." I told him the choice was his, but if he decided to drink NA beer, he'd have to find a new sponsor. 

About a month later, someone in the program planted the idea of "marijuana maintenance" into his head. Once again, he came looking for permission to relapse. This time, he used a different tactic... he opted for taking my inventory as it pertained to cigarette smoking, reasoning that "nicotine is a mind-altering drug," so if I can smoke cigarettes, he should be permitted to smoke weed.

Once again, I encouraged him to go back out. He'd know where to find me when he was ready to work an honest program.

Of course, the ONLY time he worked as directed was when I told him to "go back out." Off he'd go to seek out an easier, softer way. Then, a few months later, he'd come sulking back into the rooms, asking me to sponsor him again. I'd take him on, he'd look for excuses to relapse, I'd send him back out, he'd wrap his car around a phone pole (or something equally brilliant), then show up back in the rooms with his head hung. Around and around and around we went like this... for years.

Eventually, I lost contact with him. I'm fairly certain he's still out there, somewhere, riding the "retread spin cycle" to this day.

-------------------

In my drinking days, my favorite "treat" was a high-end bottle of sake. LOVED IT. Coincidentally, I happened to have a Japanese roommate who was visiting his family in Osaka the week I decided to quit drinking. Oblivious to my newfound sobriety, he returned home bearing the gift of an ornate bottle of authentic, Japanese sake. 

Not gonna lie... I entertained the idea of popping that cork and picking a new date. 

I didn't. 

Instead, I took that bottle and put it up in a cupboard, over my sink. I said to myself, "If I ever decide to relapse, that's gonna be the bottle I do it with" and promptly forgot about it.

Over the years, I would occasionally share in meetings about that bottle over my sink and what it represented to my sobriety. Without fail, while exiting the hall, someone would approach and declare, "You have to throw that bottle out! It'll cause you to relapse if you don't!"

A bottle of booze will cause me to relapse? Nothing could be further from the truth. The ONLY thing that will cause me to relapse is MY BRAIN. In fact, there's a liquor store on the corner, half-a-block from my house, that's FULL of booze. Whether I reach into the cupboard over my sink or walk down to the corner store, relapse is there for the taking if I want it.

I was in no danger of "accidental relapse." It has never happened. Not once, in the history of Recovery, has anyone ever accidentally tripped over a bottle and had its contents emptied into their mouth.

Every relapse is planned. EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. 

You don't need permission... if you're not done, you're not done. Go ahead and tip the bottle one more time. If you're looking for a reason to relapse, you WILL relapse. It's just a matter of time. Stop torturing yourself and just do it.

So go ahead... pick up that bottle, light that joint, drop that hit, snort that line, fire up that pipe, and get it out of your system.

When you're done fighting, the rooms will be here waiting for you.

Unconditional Love

I have come to realize that "unconditional love" is a far rarer concept than most believe it to be. The majority of love/friendships we currently hold in our lives are, in fact, "conditional."

But what does that mean?

We have all experienced a break-up with a boyfriend, girlfriend, spouse, significant other, etc., in which our "shared friends" were halved after the dissolution of the relationship. Suddenly, people whom we loved, respected (and believed respected us), with whom we laughed and cried are suddenly gone, out of our lives. They have chosen to retain their friendship with our former partner and, in turn, ended all contact with us.

Those so-called friends only loved us under the condition that we remained in a relationship with our partner. It was "conditional love."

We have many of these conditional relationships in our lives: Work friends who (seem to) care about us so long as we're employed under the same roof as them, social climbing friends who flit through our lives on their way up the social ladder, current and former schoolmates, those who orbit in the same hobby/church/social groups as us, and so on. 

Personally, I have found the most intriguing group of conditional friends to be my "old party friends." Early on, I was faced with the quandary of whether to continue relations with my drinking buddies, once sober. Should I remain friends with them or exercise self-preservation and walk away?

A particularly difficult relationship to justify was my mentor - a dear friend who was a hope-to-die alcoholic. Early in my sobriety, he invited me out to dinner, which was (of course) at a local bar. 

That night, he ordered a particularly "colorful" cocktail that I had not seen before. "What's that?" I asked.

"This is a (insert exotic cocktail name here)" he said, as he slid the drink in my direction.

Out of reflex, I snatched the drink and lifted it to my mouth. The cocktail was inches from my lips when my brain screamed, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING???" I set the drink down and slid it back - close call.

He knew I was sober, yet he put me in a tenuous situation.  But it wasn't his fault... I put MYSELF in that situation. This was the type of place where we had established our friendship, it was a common stomping ground. If I was to continue our friendship, it would be mired in this sort of temptation. As much as I adored my friend, I had to step back and put distance between us. 

Another one of my drinking buddies, a guy who was like a brother to me, actively despised the idea of losing me to sobriety. He regularly and blatantly tempted me into relapse. Likewise, I was forced to make a choice between our friendship and my sobriety. I chose the latter.

In these situations, with these friends, I was absolutely guilty of withholding "unconditional love" for my brothers. It was a quandary... if I offered my love to them, I wouldn't be able to give it to myself.

Eventually, I grew strong enough in my recovery to return to those friendships and once again offer that love. I don't regret my decision to step away... I had to do what was right for me and my sobriety.

In our first year of recovery, unconditional love is not an option -- whether it be old drinking buddies, romantic relationships, or toxic family members -- WE HAVE TO BE SELFISH.  

Nobody in this world will look out for your wellbeing better than you. Setting boundaries with others does not make us bad people, it makes us survivors.

Marijuana Maintenance

Marijuana was not my problem. 

I didn't like it. It wasn't a trigger for me. It wasn't my problem. So, technically, I should be able to continue to use it and consider myself "sober."*  Right?

Here's the thing...

This program is about rigorous honesty.

True, pot wasn't my problem, but you know what else wasn't my problem? Alcohol. Yes, I'm an alcoholic, but that wasn't my problem... It was a SYMPTOM of my problem.

My problem is not with drugs and alcohol, my problem is with me and why I need those things in the first place. The use of any mind impairing substance will keep me from confronting the problems that plague the deepest corners of my psyche and serve only as a roadblock to wellness.

In my program, the idea of "sobriety" coupled with "marijuana use" is a complete impossibility. 

I quit drinking because I had lost control over my addiction. I didn't like who I had become. It was a "quality of life" issue. My life was in the toilet because of my drinking -- I would NEVER get my life back unless I completely gave myself over to sobriety.

For me, mind impairing substances are an escape. They are the tool that allows me to disconnect from reality and run from my problems, rather than confront them and work on becoming the best person I can be. 

And yes, nicotine and coffee can be considered "mind altering" (though personally, I've never heard of anyone pawning their grandmother's jewelry for a latte) and, if you really want to go deep, you can drop sugar into that category as well. To be clear, I make a distinction between "mind altering" and "mind impairing" (e.g. drugs that cause us to disassociate from reality: alcohol, pot, and harder drugs), as well as "medically prescribed" substances, but that's another discussion for another day.

To quote the Big Book, "we thought we could find an easier, softer way, but we could not." Sobriety is hard work. It doesn't come easy. As a newcomer, if someone had offered me the option of "maintaining" my sobriety via marijuana, I would have jumped at such an easier, softer alternative. I would also have surely relapsed back into my disease. 

As such, I'd be lying if said this ideology didn't give me concern for the newcomer who may be exposed to it.

Everyone has to do what's best for them. If you've convinced yourself that you can work an honest and rigorous program while high, I say, "go with God." Nobody's keeping tabs, nobody's keeping score. It's your program and you have to do what's best for you. I sincerely hope you make it.

For my part, I will not sponsor someone who smokes pot while working the steps. I personally believe a clear head is needed for this process. To do otherwise would be a waste of my time.

I cannot work a rigorously honest program if I'm high, if my mind is impaired at any level. My whole addiction is predicated on using artificial stimulants as an escape from my emotions, a way to cut off the world and avoid facing the problems that keep me from functioning as a responsible member of society. If I'm using weed, I'm continuing to run from my problems rather than face them.

For me, solid growth in sobriety requires good judgement. The use of any substance that impairs my judgment will interfere with positive, forward progression. If I don't address my sobriety with a clear head, I will only digress. If I'm not growing in sobriety, what's the point of being sober? 

Make no mistake, if the day ever comes when picking up the bottle or lighting a joint will improve my quality of life, I won't hesitate to partake. I also won't call myself "sober." 

If that's the path you choose, I won't judge you... neither will I refer to you as "sober."

"Greatest lesson I've learned this year is you can't have one foot in your old life and one foot in your new life and expect change. You have to fully commit to your new life." - motivational quotes

This is one person's opinion. It may differ from yours, and that's okay. As they say in the rooms, "Take what you need and leave the rest."

*Footnote: Personally, I don't differentiate between "sober" and "clean." Semantics. For me, they're one and the same.

Full Circle

Alcohol and drugs are not my problem... they are a symptom of a bigger problem: The unaddressed pain from my past.

 

My life didn’t fall apart because of my drinking... my drinking was just an escape hatch that I used to run  away from the emotions and trauma of my past. It was the only thing I could find that would dull the pain and momentarily quiet the voices in my head.

 

My problem was not drinking and using... my problem was me.

 

I had to stop trying to escape my problems and face them. If I didn’t face them, I’d never fix them and I’d keep running back to my addictions in order to stop thinking and feeling.

 

So how do we do it? How do we break the cycle and fix ourselves?

 

That’s where the Steps come in.

 

In steps 1-3, we make peace with God. In steps 4-7, we make peace with ourselves. 8-9, we make peace with others. And 10-12 is about keeping the peace.

 

The steps are numbered for a reason. They should be taken in order. A relationship with God is paramount to forgiving ourselves, and we can NEVER find forgiveness with others if we haven’t  found it in ourselves first. 

 

The Steps are designed to bring peace into our lives. Once we find peace with God, ourselves, and others, a funny thing happens... we begin to love ourselves and who we’ve become.

 

Now, do you remember the reason we drank and used in the first place? To escape our problems. 

And what was our problem? Us.

 

But since we love ourselves now, there’s no need to escape... ergo, no need to drink or use.

 

Full circle.

Great Expectations

I train in the art of Brazilian Jiu Jitsu several days a week. 

When any group of people meets on a regular basis, "cliques" have a habit of forming among the participants. This group is no different. 

It has subdivided into two groups of regulars: 1. A bunch of old guys who love to get together and prattle on about politics. 2. The younger crowd of die-hard fighters who live for the sport of BJJ.

To be clear, these groups are not at odds and everyone gets along wonderfully. That said, there is a clear divide in social gatherings outside of class. As for me, I'm friends with both groups equally and tend to drift back-and-forth as the humor strikes me.

I had always enjoyed my neutrality, but then something strange happened that caused me to question how my fellow jiteros viewed me - both groups simultaneously engaged in a series of outside "group activities" and invited those whom they wished to attend... 

I didn't receive a single invite. Not a whisper, not a head nod... nothing.

Totally snubbed.

I was outraged. I thought, "I invited them all to my house for a barbecue last July 4th... yet, not ONE of them thought to send me a note of invite? NOT ONE???"

Not gonna lie... it hurt a little. 

So, I harbored a small resentment for minute, then licked my wounds and stepped back to examine the situation...

I knew the snub didn't come from a place of "dislike" for me. I got along well with everyone in both groups. Rather, it came from my own lack of involvement and passion for the things that obviously interested them (politics and BJJ fanaticism). I was "neutral," which to them meant "uninterested."

So I asked myself, "What is it you want from them? Do you REALLY want to be a part of their groups?  If so, it's up to you to make that happen. You need to dive into politics with the old guys and join their echo-chamber! You need to turn-up your training sessions with the young crowd, start showing up 5-6 days a week, and go to out-of-town tournaments with them. They like you and WILL accept you, but you have to MAKE AN EFFORT to do what they do if you want to fit in."

In essence, I had to examine my part in these relationships. My natural reaction was to go on the defense, to be hurt by their actions because they weren't behaving in a way that I found acceptable, when what I needed to do was look at my actions and decide WHAT I COULD DO DIFFERENTLY in order to change the outcome.

I thought about these options for a moment and decided, "NOPE! I'm good where I am!" The idea "being accepted" really only appealed to my ego. Once I put all that aside, I was okay with my station in these groups and, in turn, my butt hurt a whole lot less!

So often, in my life, I develop unrealistic expectations of others. When they don't behave in a way I deem acceptable, I get angry without taking a moment to examine my part in the transaction.

In the end, I've come to the realization that I'm not everybody's cup of tea!

And that's okay.

Alas, I Knew Him Well

I recently lost a dear friend to addiction. 

He didn't die. In fact, he's alive and healthy (as much as one in addiction can be), but he's lost all the same.

This person was my first sponsor. He walked me through the early days of my recovery. He was my confidant, my sounding board, my mentor. When the world had given up on me, he did not.

When I was 6 months sober, he asked, "What's the one thing you can't see yourself doing sober?"

"Vegas" I snapped back. "I can't imagine doing the casinos."

"Okay," he said, "I've got some extra frequent flyer miles... we're going to Vegas." And that's exactly what we did. He booked the flights, the hotel, and spent the weekend with this newcomer who he barely knew, showing me that sobriety was possible in any circumstance.

I was floored by the experience - it meant the world to me and launched a close friendship that lasted more than two decades. We worked together, we dined together, we travelled together. When I went through my divorce, he was there for support. When his father passed, my wife and I were there for support.

We were good friends.

In year 19 of his sobriety, he relapsed. I won't go into the details, that's his story to tell. Sufficed to say, he was firmly "off the wagon." It didn't shake me. Sober or not, I would always owe him. He was my friend. He was my brother.

Over the last 14 years, we've kept that friendship going, him active in his disease and me sober. We've had many good times together - we've laughed, we've bickered, we've cheered, we've mourned. We've been there for each other for 20+ years, all in.

Recently, for no explicable reason, he cut all ties and ended our friendship. 

*POOF* Gone. Just like that. No rhyme or reason, no phone call, no explanation... just gone. It was wholly without merit or expectation. 

I was grieved.

What happened? What changed? WHAT DID I DO???

No idea. I can only suppose that his disease has taken hold of him, his conscious too heavy to face any reminders of a sober life once lived.

That's what addiction does, what it HAS to do, in order to survive. It must cut off all possibility of sobriety in order to thrive. I was a walking reminder of his losing fight against addiction, so I had to go. 

I am not the first, nor will I be the last loved one he loses in this battle. Sadly, the last person he will lose will be himself. On that day, the war will be over.

I'll miss my brother. I'll miss that friendship, but I can't chase it. His actions have made clear that he no longer values our connection. I must accept that and move on. 

Of course, I'd love to know what happened, why my dear friend decided to end our relationship. Alas, the deepest part of me knows there is no valid reason. I must let it go and learn to go where I'm appreciated, not where I'm tolerated.

I've lost another friend to addiction.

It grieves me... but life goes on.

Love the One You're Near

Someone once said (who knows who), "It is impossible to love another person if you don't first love yourself."

I personally proved this to be true while in my disease. In 14 years of active addiction, I didn't have a single serious relationship.  I didn't feel I was worthy of love. To my mind, I was broken. I knew it, and if anyone spent any significant amount of time with me, they would know it. 

I was unlovable. Nobody would want me.

Early in my sobriety, I worked a job teaching musical theater to children ages 4-17. I loved it. The most rewarding part was to watch a child discover him/herself and bloom into self-awareness before my eyes. The power of self discovery, self confidence, self respect, and self love. To watch a human grow into their skin and admire themself... nothing more beautiful.

But something was missing. I couldn't do it anymore. As much as I enjoyed helping young artists grow, something was missing in the equation. 

Then it dawned on me... everything I was teaching those children (self confidence, self respect, etc.) was focussed on one thing: "self." 

Yes, this was wonderful, but it was missing one important ingredient: "Others." The Arts were teaching them how to love, help, and respect themselves, but not how to pay it forward to others. Sure, some will argue that the Arts are all about "giving to others," but on the surface it's simply an escape, an admiration of someone else's creation and interpretation.

What I'm referring to is a deeper, more selfless and driving love that inspires people to pull their fellow man out of the mud, give them hope, and send them into the world to do the same for others. In some circles, this is referred to as "discipleship."

To be clear, I'm in no way burying the Arts. Any form of art, be it performance, visual, or otherwise, adds great value to our society and should be lauded. For me, personally, it just wasn't enough to scratch the itch in that unreachable area between the shoulder blades of my soul.

It was around this time that I worked the 4th and 5th steps. I discovered what made me tick, which allowed me to forgive myself. An amazing thing happened... I began to LOVE myself.

As I worked through the steps, my self-love grew. By the time I got to Step 12, I was far enough along in my journey and loved myself enough that I was able to pay it forward and help someone else.

I was finally able to love others, as I had learned to love myself.

And that was exactly the itch I was looking to scratch.

Animal Instinct

I have always found it odd that humans have the ability to hate someone without ever having met them. 

Happens all the time. We hear stories about celebs, sports stars, musicians, politicians and allow our personal "truth" to evolve via confirmation bias. We have no concrete evidence of reported behaviors from aforementioned celebrities, but no matter, we accept the offered tales as "truth" and affirm our dislike for that individual with a fierce and loathsome prejudice.

I've had it happen in my personal life, having discovered (usually after the fact) that someone I had never spoken to (much less personally harmed) harbored a deep disdain for me. This person didn't just dislike me, they despised me and actively dragged my name through the mud. They had been influenced by a third-party who held a grudge and decided to pick up the torch of hatred and carry it into battle against someone they didn't know, regarding an issue that didn't involve them.

Not just the one person. Many people. Many times.

INSANE.

Why? What is behind such stupidity?

Turns out the answer is fairly simple: People are animals.

Have you ever noticed how a flock of birds moves with one mind? If one of them senses danger and takes to flight, the entire flock will follow suit, without question. The birds don't require personal contact with the predator, or even visual confirmation, they just "take their buddy's word for it" and fly away.

It's a survival technique.

In the same way, humans are pack animals.

In 10,000 BC, if a fellow villager ran out of the jungle a yelled, "Look out! There's a sabertooth tiger in the bushes!" you didn't go investigate to see if the danger was real; you took his word for it and RAN! It's how our species survived.

Nowadays, there are no man-eating lions in the bushes (at least not in my neighborhood), but the "instinct" still survives. Many humans (let's be honest, typically the "lower evolved" and "less intelligent" ones) have yet to differentiate between a predatory sabertooth and the person who may be competing for a job promotion against their pal. When their buddy says, "That guy doesn't deserve the promotion, he's a big jerk that cheats on his wife!" - that's all it takes. There will be no investigation, no questioning... he'll just assume his buddy is telling the truth and ring the alarm to notify the rest of the village.

9 of 10 times, his buddy is bending the truth (if not outright lying) in order to spread disinformation that will (hopefully) get back to the employer and discredit the competition. He's willing to manipulate people around him and ruin his rival's reputation in order to get what he wants. 

He's not a good person. If you fall for his manipulations and do his bidding, you're not a good person, either.

This approach worked well for our ancestors, but in the modern age it lacks empathy and kindness. In order to better ourselves as human beings and make the world a better place, it's high time we learn to manage our instincts and opt for intelligence, fair play, and benevolence.

It's a big ask, but I'm pretty sure we're a bit more evolved than a flock of pigeons.

Push to Failure

“It’s not what happens to you, but how you react to it that matters.”                              -Epictetus

To put it another way, "We can't control what happens, but we can control our response."

We've all had dreams. Whether it was to be an astronaut, the president of the US, or first baseman of the NY Yankees. Or maybe it was a more attainable dream; perhaps to go to a particular college, become a doctor, or raise a family.

Did you achieve those dreams? Did your addiction get in the way? Did you fail to fulfill them?

Good news! Dreams are not defeated through failure, only by failing to try in the first place. 

So many people push themselves up to the point of failure, then quit for fear of failing. They don't understand that failure is good! Identifying the point of failure is the only way to avoid it -- It's a key component to success and growth. 

In weight lifting, there's a concept known as "pushing to failure." The idea is that you keep stacking more and more weights on the bar until you physically cannot lift the bar. Essentially, your muscles "fail" at the given task. 

At this point, an amazing thing happens... your muscles say, "Hey, this is too heavy. We can't lift it!' To which your brain responds, "Then we need to do something about that!" and signals your muscles to grab more protein from your blood stream to build themselves up in order to lift that weight.

So, those big body-builders you see down at muscle beach... they got that way by repeated failure!

Then there's the naysayers and gatekeepers; people who love to wallow in mediocrity. The only thing they fear more than change is the possibility of failure. As such, they wage war against anything or anyone who attempts to succeed, because success arrives hand-in-hand with the thing they fear most -- failure. Your dream threatens to rock the boat and highlight their mediocrity, therefore it must be destroyed. 

They will set themselves up as gatekeepers, blocking you from moving forward.

Many times, they will succeed... and that's okay. 

Years ago, I worked as a youth pastor for a flailing church in Southern California. The head pastor decided we should run a summer day-camp program and asked me to organize it. "Of course," he explained, "we have to clear it with headquarters, first."

This particular "headquarters" was no different than any other governing body, as it was mired in protocol and politics. The hope of getting anything accomplished in an expedient time-frame was wishful thinking, at best. As expected, our "approval" came at the 11th hour... far too late to launch a successful summer program (most parents had scheduled their child's summer activities MONTHS prior).

The program was a DISMAL failure, an utter embarrassment. Since I was responsible for launching the program, all fingers pointed at me. When I pushed back on HQ regarding the impossible timeline due to their tardy approval, their response was, "You shouldn't have waited for approval, you should have just done it!"

Anyone who has worked in a bureaucracy knows first-hand the folly behind that bit of advice. Had I moved without approval, I would have been in trouble. If I didn't, the program would fail. It was a "damned if you do, damned if you don't" situation, if ever there was one.

I wanted to blame someone. I wanted people to know it was the gate keepers, not me, who foiled the plan. I had everything lined up, ready to go... it was their incompetence that caused the program to fail, not mine!

Eventually, I realized that it was my fault in the end. The success or failure of the program laid with me alone. What's the worst that would have happened had I moved forward without permission? A slap on the wrist, at most. As my father always says, "Success covers a multitude of sins." 

It was my failure for relying on visionless people to comprehend and support my dream.  

In sobriety, we will have naysayers and gatekeepers. Our sobriety will require change, which will threaten some of those around us. They will resist the idea and want us to fail. They will slow us down and throw up roadblocks. They will erect temptation and lay obstacles in our path. If we succumb, they will point at us and say, "See, we told you, you would fail! Why do you even bother trying?"

We can't rely on their support to stay sober. We have to do it ourselves. 

And even if we fail, all is not lost... just pick a new date and try again. Failure is not a death sentence. Failing to try is a death sentence. Literally.

That said, if you once had a dream of becoming the President, it's never to late to try... after all, the current Commander-and-Chief is in his 80's!

Am I an Alcoholic?

The only person who can answer this question for you, is you.

To help you determine for yourself, honestly answer "yes or no" to the following questions:

Do you ever drink alone?

Do you ever have to hide your drinking?

Have you ever lied about your drinking to a doctor, employer, or loved one?

Have you ever been pulled over for drinking and driving?

Has a doctor ever told you to cut back on your drinking?

Has drinking ever negatively affected your life, job, or relationships in any way?

Do you order extra drinks at last call or finish other people's drinks for them?

Do you ever black out?

Have you ever set limits on your drinking (e.g. "I'll only have one drink, then I'm leaving" or "Only wine and beer, no more hard stuff" or "No drinking during the weekdays, only weekends", etc.)? Did you ultimately fail at those limitations?

Have you ever felt like your drinking has held you back, that your life might be better if you didn't drink?

If you answered "yes" to one of these questions, you might be an alcoholic. If you answered "yes" to two of these questions, you're probably an alcoholic. If you answered "yes" to three of these questions... you're DEFINITELY an alcoholic.

As a newcomer, I didn't want to believe I was an alcoholic. "I never drank during the day... I never blacked out... I never, I never, I never..." I was looking for the differences, rather than the similarities.

How many times have we heard of someone who died of a heart attack because they only had "a few" symptoms of heart failure, so they decided to ignore the problem? Perhaps they had numbness and aching in their left arm, but they didn't feel pain or tightness in their chest, so they disregarded it. Looking for the "differences" in their symptoms, rather than the "similarities," resulted in their death.

The same goes for addiction. Just because you only have a few symptoms of alcoholism doesn't mean you don't have the disease. You're not off the hook.

For me, it came down to "Control and Enjoy": 

I could absolutely control my drinking. I'd say to myself, "I'll only have one drink at the bar, then I'm leaving"**  I'd have one drink and I'd leave, no problem... but I didn't enjoy that drink because I knew it wasn't enough to get me where I needed to be.

I could also enjoy my drinking by taking the governor off and imbibing until I was sated (AKA "passed out"). In other words, control had to be set aside so that enjoyment could be had.

I had the ability to control, I had the ability to enjoy, but I was incapable of doing them both at the same time. For me, the inability to control and enjoy, simultaneously, makes me an alcoholic.

At the end of the day, as previously stated, nobody can tell you if you're an alcoholic. The only person who can determine that truth for you is you.

So, are you an alcoholic? That's not the important question. The real questions is, what are you going to do about it?

** Do you know who never says this to themself? People who aren't alcoholics.

Bad Apples

"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing." -Edmund Burke

I've been a member of many churches, AA groups, and fellowships. At the core of every one of them was the promotion of unity, love, and compassion. Yet, without fail, nearly every one of these groups became overrun by bad apples; bullies who forced their will upon those around them, then went to war with anyone who would dare oppose.

These "Bad Apple Takeovers" seem to be universal across the board. 

So, why do good men do nothing?

The very nature of a good person is to promote kindness, empathy, compassion and good will. By nature, the good person wants nothing to do with negativity. As such, they remain silent or move on to another fellowship, whereby leaving a void to be filled by the responsible bad apple. 

Conversely, the nature of a bad apple is to pursue conflict, stir the pot of dissonance, and crush opposing voices. Once the good people are silenced or driven off, they proceed to gain control and run the group into the ground.

Therein lies their strength: The uncanny ability to convince others of the righteousness of their cause.

Once destroyed, the bad apple will find someone else to blame for the group's misfortune, then move onto another fellowship to repeat the process, ad infinitum. 

To be fair, these "bad apples" are rarely malicious. They REALLY believe they're doing what's best for the group. Their only fault lay in their utter incompetence coupled with a heightened arrogance that clouds the gift of self-reflection. 

What's the answer? Simple: Good men (and women) must DO something!

Conflict requires courage. Without courage, evil thrives.

Be good. Have courage. Do something.

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

When I was little, my mother gave me children's cold medicine. It tasted like syrup. I liked it. She told me, "Don't ever take more than I give you. If you do, you'll go to sleep and never wake up."

Looking back, that was a strange way to explain death to a child. I remember believing her to mean I would literally fall into an eternal slumber, a la Sleeping Beauty or Snow White, requiring some dashing prince (or in my case, princess) to come along and break the spell. I didn't understand the permanence of death; the finality of it.

I recently sifted through my FaceBook friend list, amazed at how many people I know who have passed. As I looked back, I counted more than a dozen friends and family members whom I've lost over the years. A couple were taken by tragic accidents, a couple by early onset heart disease, but the rest, every last one, died as the result of addiction. 

Gone too young. Gone too soon.

The path of addiction leads one place: The Grave. 

Addiction has a 100% mortality rate. 

For addicts, the age of 65 is considered a "long life." Most suffer horrible, drawn-out deaths in their 40's and 50's.  I've known many, many, many active alcoholics and addicts... not one of them have lived past their mid 60's.

Not. One. 

To paraphrase a line from the brilliantly written "Stand By Me"... these folks ain't sick, these folks ain't sleeping, these folks are dead.

Sadly, I still have loved ones who live deep within their addiction. I have attempted to 12-Step them, to no avail. They stand in the queue to an early demise. There's nothing I can do.

For them, there will be no Prince Charming.

My focus must be on those who choose to live.

Chip Chap

I just took a chip for 21 years sober.

That's a long time.

To put it into perspective, someone born on my sobriety date would now be old enough to legally drink. Hard to believe it's been that long.

I think back to my first chip... a "Welcome" chip. 

I had always been able to quit drinking for short spurts, here and there, when I wanted (or needed) to. If I felt my drinking was getting too out of hand (which was all the time), I was able to hang up the bottle and dry out for a week or month, then hop back off the wagon.

This time was different. I couldn't put the bottle down for even one night. I poured all the booze down the sink, determined to stop myself from drinking... 20 minutes later I was standing in the liquor store. I got home, chastised myself, and poured all the newly bought liquor down the drain. 20 minutes later I was standing in the liquor store. 

I repeated this process 3-4 times (the liquor store owner must have thought I was either crazy or throwing a major rager) before I finally gave in and drank. It was at this point that I knew I couldn't do it alone and needed help.

I showed up to my first meeting, a "Newcomer's Meeting," at what was to become my home group in Burbank, CA. Walking into that room and asking for help was the HARDEST thing I've ever had to do, no contest. When they asked for newcomers to stand, identify, and accept a welcome chip, I complied. Trembling, I approached the front and accepted my first chip.

That chip, my Welcome Chip, was hands-down the HARDEST chip I've ever earned.

I don't remember much about that meeting, but I do remember the 30 day chips. I know other chips and cakes were taken, but I don't remember them. The 30 day chips stood out because they were attainable. I remember watching people receive their 30 day chips and thinking, "They're no different from me... if they can do that, I can do that."  

And I did. I put 30 days together and received my second chip in sobriety: My 30 day chip.

That chip, my 30 day chip, was the SECOND hardest chip I've ever earned.

Third hardest? My 60 day chip. 

You can see where I'm going with this - they've gotten progressively easier over the years.

This week, I took a chip for 21 years of sobriety and can say, without reservation, so far it's the easiest chip I've ever earned.

Good News, Bad News

Congratulations! You're sober! There's good news and bad news...

The good news: You get your emotions back. 

The bad news: You get your emotions back.

My emotional development arrested around the age of 19 (when I started drinking daily). For the next 15(ish) years, I lived inside a bottle with my emotions stuffed neatly in my pocket. 

I didn't have to deal with the pesky things... it was great!

Problem was, when I finally got sober in my 30's, I had the emotional maturity of a teenager. I had spent the prior decade running from my feelings. When I got sober, all those buried emotions surfaced and I had NO idea how to deal with them! I was a mess!

"Substance abuse" was not my problem. My anger, my sadness, my impatience... my "emotions" were my problem. My feelings caused me pain -- so I drank to stop feeling. 

Easy-peasy. 

Turns out, the pain was caused by early trauma that lived at the root of my addiction (I've never met an addict, in or out of the rooms, who didn't suffer from some sort of past trauma). Despite this, I could never recall the origin of the wound. I assumed it was there, perhaps something that happened in my infancy, some sort of abuse that I couldn't (or wouldn't) remember.

Then I learned something...

There are two types of trauma: "Big Trauma" (Big T) and "Little Trauma" (Little T). Big T's are the obvious traumas often trumpeted in today's headlines - child abuse/molestation, violence, sexual assault, tragic accidents, etc.. These are the major life events that leave deep scars, easily identified. 

Little T's are the smaller traumas that happen on a daily basis - bullying, neglect, criticism, name calling, etc..  These traumas are akin to "a death by a thousand cuts" as they go unnoticed until it's too late. They are the most pervasive because we tend to minimize them, "Oh that was no big deal... it was just sibling rivalry... that's just boys being boys... we all go through that... etc." The open neglect of this type of trauma burrows into a festering chasm within our psyche. 

Upon learning this new info, I took a deep look into my past. What happened to me? From where were those emotions bubbling?

Big T: Uncovering this trauma was easy, as there was really only one I could remember. At the age of 11 my family went on vacation. While swimming the hotel pool, I met an older boy who befriended me and invited me back to his hotel room. On the way, he said he needed to make a stop in the lobby men's room. Once inside, after confirming the restroom was empty, he pushed me into a stall and preceded to molest me. Fortunately, someone entered the restroom and scared him off before the attack could escalate to rape. It was a brief but highly traumatic encounter that left a deep scar.

Little T: I was severely bullied by an older sibling throughout my childhood. The beatings were constant, the name-calling was daily, the belittling was persistent, the abuse was unrelenting. It seemed my older brother hated me. The Little T's piled up, year upon year, until I was forced to build a defensive wall of anger and aggression to protect my fragile psyche. I refer to this as my "anger origin story."

I asked for help. I cried, I begged. My pleas went unheeded, my weeping unheard.

Both my Big and Little T's resulted in a core wound of "helplessness." All the trauma I had experienced made me feel weak and powerless. The minimization of the abuse expounded the helplessness. I realized at an early age that nobody could help me but me. I swore, when I was big enough, no one would ever push me around or hurt me again. 

Over the following years I trained in martial arts and firearms, lifted weights, and focussed my aggression. My triggers: The insults heaped on me as a child, any form of disrespect or bullying, and God help you if you dared touch me in anger. 

I would die on my feet, rather than live on my knees. 

The abuse formed my personality.

As a result, I've spent the last 20 years of sobriety working through my anger. A large part of my step-work involved identifying my character defects and taking small steps, every day, to work through the trauma. I've learned that patience is a big trigger for my anger, so that's where I've learned to put the most effort. 

I'm a long way from perfect, but I'm getting there... One day at a time.

-----------------------------------

Let me be perfectly clear about one thing: It's nobody's fault. 

I don't blame my brother in ANY way for my wounds. I love my brother. He was just a kid himself, dealing with trauma of his own and walking through it the only way he knew how - by acting out his anger. He was a child who had pain he didn't know how to deal with. I feel compassion for that scared, angry little boy.

Today my brother is one of my best friends. He grew to be a great husband, an amazing father, and a sincere man of God (not many people I can say that about). He has made a living-amends to me a thousand times over.

I also don't blame my parents. They were outstanding guardians who loved us, protected and provided for us, and did the best they could. It was a different time... they simply didn't know back then that we know today. I have only love and admiration for them.

No one is to blame. What happened, happened. I can spend my life pointing the finger and flying the "poor me" flag, or I can grab my tools and get to work on fixing myself.

If I don't, the only person I have to blame is me.

The Scarlet Letter

My wife and I recently watched a docu-series about the hacking of the Ashley Madison website.

If you don't know, the Ashley Madison website allows married men and women to meet, incognito, and have elicit affairs, with no strings attached and no fear of your spouse finding out (or so it seemed). 

In 2015, the site was hacked. All of the adulterers' names were released to the public. 

As you might imagine, a feeding frenzy of self-righteousness ensued. Thousands of people poured over the list, weeding out names of celebrities, YouTube stars, pastors, and neighbors. Marriages were destroyed, careers were ruined, and yes, some people opted to take their own lives rather than suffer the indignation of a scarlet letter.

Some say, "They got what they deserved!" 

I say, "I'm SO glad my drinking days were in the rearview mirror prior to the advent of social media."

We live in an age where society wants to crucify anyone who's ever committed the slightest public faux pas, not just in the recent past, but EVER. Hordes of busybodies, digging through years of social media postings, mining any grievances they can find, then demanding a public apology (followed by an equally public lynching).

There. Is. No. Room. For. Forgiveness.

Personally, I shudder at the thought of ANY of my past misdeeds becoming public knowledge. 

I was a monster in my addiction: A selfish, self-centered, angry, spiteful, lying, thieving, remorseless, abusive, self-loathing criminal. I was a cyclone of destruction, leaving devastation in my path wherever I went. I betrayed friendships and hurt the people I loved. I was a walking disaster... not even a shadow of who my parents raised me to be and the person I was to become in sobriety.

The cretan who wore my skin during those years was not me, it was the addiction. I don't know that person. I don't recognize that person. That person was not me. 

There are people, who to this day, despise me for the selfish actions of that person. Rightly so. Some continue to drag my name through the mud, 25 years later, despite my attempts to make amends.

That's their cross to bear. It's sad.

I'm just glad there was no FaceBook, Insta, or Twitter back then. None of my past humiliation has been immortalized on the inescapable big-screen of social media. 

Thank God for small favors.

-------------------------------

In the final moments of the Ashley Madison series, a woman whose husband took his own life, stated, "We shouldn't be so quick to judge others... We all have a list that we're on, one we wouldn't want anyone to know about."

No truer words have ever been spoken.

Glass houses, people. Glass houses.

Answered Prayer

Jesus prayed for an end to his suffering on the cross. He cried out to the Father, asking for relief. Did he expect God to answer his prayer? Was he delusional? Or was suffering an important part of the plan?

As a new-comer, I had a LOT of delusional beliefs. For instance, I was fairly certain that everyone in those early AA meetings were showing up for me, alone. I was convinced they were there for the sole purpose of seeing me through my early days of sobriety. 

Therefore, I HAD to stay sober or risk devastating the entire purpose of the group!

I wasn't so delusional to think the group would disband in the event of my relapse, but I was fairly certain there would be a group-wide day of mourning, followed by a total examination of the efficacy of the Program. 

And so (for them) I was determined to hold up my end of the bargain and stay sober. 

See? Delusional.

I also carried the pretentious belief that once I hit the magical "One Year" mark, I would no longer be a new-comer, whereby mastering the intricacies of the world. I was certain that without the interference of addiction, accompanied by my head full of recovery, the pieces of my life would fall into place. I would be happy, joyous, and free all the live-long day!

See? Delusional.

At the end of the day, my prayer was sincere. I prayed to be taken from my cross of addiction, to be relieved of my suffering. 

Was my prayer answered? 

It was... 

but not without suffering.

Early sobriety was difficult. I suffered through withdrawals, sweats, sleepless nights (pretty sure I only got about 4 hours that first week). I struggled with mental anguish, thoughts of relapse, and white-knuckling moments of temptation. My body, spirit and mind each twisted around the other in an attempt to figure out this diabolical new set of circumstances. 

I was miserable, 

I was suffering,

and it was absolutely necessary to my survival.

My suffering authored an intense appreciation for my journey to a sober life. It staved off relapse for fear of having to relive the agony of having to dry out again, lest I give in to the disease. 

I survived the journey through my suffering and it paved the way to my salvation.

People Pleaser

I'm a people pleaser.

I've spent my life bending over backwards to entertain anyone who would pay attention, silently begging, "Please love me! Please love me!"

This has been a source of great disappointment in my life.

I grew up in an international Christian organization known as The Salvation Army (you may have heard of it). My father, now retired, was an ordained minister in the organization and was a bit of a maverick. He broke barriers and rocked the boat on a regular basis. As such, he made enemies.

By association, his enemies became my enemies. Not on my part, but on theirs. Those who were threatened by his success figured if they couldn't destroy his reputation, his children were the next best thing. (and yes, I did say this was a CHURCH organization. Surprise, surprise!)

During the summer of my 15th year, I was on my way to a youth conference and was caught by airport security with my knife collection in my carry-on bag (long story... I was coming from summer camp and forgot they were in there). By the time I had reached the conference, the aforementioned "haters" had gotten hold of the "incident" and twisted it (via the gossip network) into "Noland's kid got caught with drugs and alcohol and the only reason he's not been sent home is because of his father."

I was henceforth known to the international church community as "the drug addicted drug dealer whom their children should avoid."

I wish I was making this up.

Fast-forward 20 years later: After decades of estrangement, I returned to the fold and began attending a Salvation Army church. There was a woman named Linda who was an ordained minister of the church (not the pastor) who also attended this particular parish.

I knew Linda from afar, but never really had any contact with her, other than the occasional polite "hello" in passing. To be clear, she knew my parents very well, and knew who I was, but she and I never had occasion to connect on any significant level.

One Sunday AM, the pastor was preaching on "amends." He pointed to a tray of bread that lay in front of the pulpit and invited members to tear a piece of bread off and offer it to someone in the congregation to whom they felt they owed an amends.

I sat quietly, as I was relatively new in this particular parish and hadn't had the opportunity to interact with many of the members, much less develop resentments.

Moments later, I felt the presence of someone standing next to me in the aisle. I looked up and there was Linda, standing there with a piece of broken bread extended toward me.

"I'd like to apologize." She said. "I've wrongly judged you since your return and I would like to ask your forgiveness."

I was floored. Judged me? I've never even SPOKEN to this woman! How could she have judged me on any level???

Not only did I forgive her, I greatly admired her courage and the fortitude of honesty she displayed. Her amends were public, unflinching, and warmly received.

To be clear, she was not the first (nor last) to admit implicit biases toward me, but hers was the first to really ring a bell in my brain... "Wait, I've never wronged this woman in any way, yet she managed to find reasons to dislike me? Why?"

I've always been a person who gives people an opportunity to be loved. I've never disliked another human unless they made it clear they wanted me as an enemy. Sadly, there are many, many people out there who are looking for reasons to hate, without cause, anyone whom they might perceive as a threat, with or without predication. And no, the church is not immune to such biases (in fact, I dare say they're much more prone in many instances).

It was Linda's amends that woke me up to the reality that people, as a whole, are broken, frightened, and flawed. 

It's not my job to please everybody.

I CAN'T please everybody.

All I can do is be the best person I can be, 

live a life that is holy (I fail often at this),

be kind to everybody (not as easy as it sounds),

be a little bit better today than I was yesterday,

and realize that there will be people who will still hate me for being the best me I can be, because it shines a light on their own shortcomings.

"Only fools inherit other people's enemies as some sort of weird loyalty." In my lifetime, I've made a lot of enemies who were fools.

Rick Rolled

I got rolled by a business owner who lived 3000 miles away.

Short version: I had lost my SCUBA certification card sometime back. This guy's website promised he could locate any certification for $50. It seemed like a legit business... so I bit. Turns out, my "particular certification" was beyond his purview, but instead of refunding my money, he claimed he had a right to keep it because he "had to spend time looking for it." 

You should know, I have a somewhat overdeveloped sense of justice. I cannot abide bullies, thieves, or liars. Wrong is wrong.

As you can imagine, I was consumed with anger... this guy did me dirty. It wasn't the $50, I didn't care about that. It was the principle. He was WRONG and I was RIGHT.

I went about making his life miserable. I wrote the BBB, Florida Chamber of Commerce, Florida Attorney General's Office, Federal Commerce Commission... I wrote bad reviews on Yelp, Google, FB and anywhere else I could think of. I dragged his business's name through every mud puddle I could find.

My every waking moment was focussed on finding justice. I was consumed with this resentment.

Consumed.

It finally dawned on me that this guy was renting some MAJOR space in my head. The poison of my resentment was eating me up from the inside. At the end of the day, this was not his problem, it was mine.

I knew what I had to do - I had to make amends. 

Trust me when I say, I hated the idea... I was absolutely 100% in the right. I had been wronged. 

For my own peace of mind I had to do it.

Not for him, for me.

I sent him a note and apologized, without condition, for my vitriol. I took responsibility for my part. All of it. 

A funny thing happened... the hatred was gone. Instantly. 

Shortly thereafter, I received notification from my bank that they were reversing the charge and giving me my money back. 

The old me would have shot a note off to the offender to rub his nose in my victory. 

I didn't do that. 

My amends had brought me peace...

and I wanted to keep it.