It's
just About Getting Better . . . Don't want your money. Don't want your soul.
Tools
- Serenity
My alcohol drinking, cigarette
smoking, and Snickers eating wasn’t mood dependent.
I drank, smoked, and ate when I was sad, mad,
happy, or cheerful. That’s because I’m an alcoholic,
nicotine addict, and a glutton at heart. When you’re
all those things, reasons don’t matter.
In sobriety, though, it’s the crummy feelings that are
the major potential triggers for relapse, and serenity is
an antidote to those lousy feelings. By far, the best tool
I’ve used to find peace is the Serenity Prayer. Some
of you will see “prayer” and run away. Don’t
do that. No matter your theological beliefs, or lack of them,
the words in the prayer work, even if you remove the appellation
to God from it. The prayer is emblematic of a way of thinking
that has the power to save us from ourselves. Here’s
the prayer:
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot
change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.
The Serenity Prayer has become my liquor, my cigarettes, and
my Snickers. It’s also my Xanax for anxiety, my Zoloft
for obsessive-compulsive disorder, and my medicine for insomnia.
It contains words that matter.
It is magical and it’s real simple. In my old life,
I spent a great deal of time fretting about things I couldn’t
control. Some were of things far away. I worried about being
blown up by the Russians or being obliterated by a marauding
asteroid. I spent a sleepless night in eighth grade worrying
that the first earth rocket going to the moon would slam into
it, change the moon’s course, and destroy the world.
I worried about the world running out of drinking water and
my being in an earthquake when I was in Los Angeles. My apprehensions
were huge, despite the fact that I had no control whatsoever
over Russian missiles, U.S. moon rockets, asteroid paths,
the Earth’s supply of fresh water, or geological events.
All of that powerful worrying for all those years did absolutely
nothing to change a thing. (I’ll take the opportunity
here to point out that none of that stuff ever happened. More
than ninety-nine percent of everything I’ve ever worried
about has never come true.)
I was vexed about things closer to home. I agonized about
my acne and my sloped shoulders. I worried about whether people
I didn’t even know liked me or not. I spent some sleepless
nights worrying about the safety of my oldest daughter when
she spent a summer in London. I did not have the power to
change my DNA to produce broad shoulders, cure my acne, nor
protect my daughter a half world away. Didn’t matter.
I worried about all that anyway.
As I went through life, I learned to deal with those things
I worried about but couldn’t control by drinking alcohol,
or smoking cigarettes, or eating comfort (fattening) foods.
Now, when I realize my stomach’s tight about things
over which I have no control, I stop whatever I’m doing
and take a moment to say the prayer. “Grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change.” The words refocus
my thoughts. They ground me in reality. Just saying the words
works magic for me.
Sometimes, though, I worry about things I can change. Often,
I know exactly what I need to do to change things, but I’m
afraid to take the action. My youngest daughter often makes
dumb financial decisions. I know that to help her I have to
let her suffer the consequences. That’s not easy. I
worry that she’ll handle her worry by following in my
footsteps and drinking alcoholically or doing drugs. I worry
she’ll become depressed and contemplate suicide. I worry
she won’t like me because I say “no” when
she asks for money. I know, though, that to continue to rescue
her from poor decisions is certain to keep her on the same
destructive path and prevent her from getting better. When
I find myself wavering, I go to the prayer, asking for courage
to do what I have to do to control the things I can. Sometimes,
I need to give her money. I need the wisdom to know when to
give it to her and when to withhold it. At this writing, she
isn’t cured yet. She’s doing better, but this
is a work in progress. In my former life, I would be in constant
turmoil. Now, the Serenity Prayer helps me to be at peace
with it.
My wife diagnosed me with obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD)
years before my last drink of alcohol. I disagreed with her
assessment. I believed I was afflicted with goal-oriented
behavior (GOB), which is a good thing. I’ve never seen
GOB described in the literature, but I insisted that’s
what I had. When I had a project, I wanted to finish it. I
wanted to finish it so badly I’d stay up all night doing
it. I was very goal oriented. After the week I spent in the
day program in the treatment center, the staff was suspicious
of the same diagnosis as my wife. They sent me to the center’s
physician for evaluation for OCD.
The doctor wanted to give me Zoloft – a medication used
to treat OCD. She gave me a starter pack and a prescription.
I grunted assent and left. I was three weeks away from my
last drink of alcohol and my mind was still hazy. I didn’t
want to disagree with the doctor, but I didn’t want
to take the medicine either. For the first time in decades,
I was feeling real feelings. As unpleasant as some of them
were, they were mine and I didn’t want to lose them
again.
In sobriety, I’ve disagreed with my doctors’ suggestions
from time to time. In all cases but this one I’ve discussed
my concerns and the decision to try something different was
mutual between the doctor and me. In all those cases, I made
the commitment to keep working with the doctor for continued
evaluation. When the Zoloft was prescribed, I didn’t
do that. I was three weeks since my last drink, my mind was
hazy, and my sense of self was fragile.
Instead of the Zoloft, I used the tools I was being taught
at the treatment center and in the literature, starting with
the Serenity Prayer. When a thought occurred to me that the
spot that appeared on my shoulder was melanoma, instead of
the fear preying on my mind, I recited the Serenity Prayer.
I’d watch the spot and if it didn’t go away in
short order, I’d go to the dermatologist. Meanwhile,
I asked for the serenity to accept the things I could not
control. Spots on my skin will appear from time to time. I
can’t control that. If the spot stays, grows, looks
wrong, I’ll have the courage to go to the doctor. When
I say the prayer, the obsessive thoughts go away. When something
goes on at work with which I disagree, I do what I can to
change things. It’s a lot easier to do that when I stop
for a moment and say the prayer, asking for the courage to
change the things I can.
If after a careful evaluation, you and your doctor come to
believe you need medication, take it. It may be, though, that
what you really need is a new way of thinking and, for me,
the Serenity Prayer leads me there. The prayer is just words
– but the words work. My obsessive-compulsive behavior
is greatly diminished. I am now truly more GOB than OCD. However,
it’s a rare day when I don’t take my dose of the
Serenity Prayer to keep it that way.
