My road to recovery from alcoholism has taught me many things, and one of the first was that I had to develop a degree of honesty, open-mindedness, and willingness that I’d never had before. You see, I had to look at what caused me to drink, even when I desperately didn’t want to. As I attended my support meetings, I learned that I needed to take an honest inventory—to look at my brokenness and to be honest about the things that really bothered and burned me. But as frightening as that was, I was actually confronted by another problem. I didn’t think I was all that bad! Oh sure, I’d said and acted in ways I was embarrassed of while drinking. But as far as I was concerned, I drank because others drove me to drink! I had gotten used to saying that I was alcoholic, that I was suffering from a physical as well as a spiritual malady. But now I was about to look at my behavior, and I didn’t like that. To make matters worse, pride told me I need not look, and fear told me I dare not look!
However, I needed to do something, and I knew it, so I chose to follow in the steps of those who were now living happy, joyous, and free lives—and I’m so glad I did.
My friends suggested that what I really suffered from was extreme selfishness, and that I might want to write down the things that brought up feelings of anger, fear, guilt, and shame. These were the things that had eaten away at me for many years, and like a business doing inventory, if the merchandise is damaged or corrupted, it needs to be thrown out!
My first list was about resentments. I listed those with whom I was angry, as well as why. That part was easy. I had kept score about those who had either treated me poorly, or had not gone along with what I wanted them to do. Then I listed how their actions had affected me. I found that my self-worth was wrapped up in having people agree with me, and do what I wanted them to! (Nothing selfish about that, right?) I needed to list the instances where their actions had affected other friendships, or threatened my financial security, or my ambitions. Then I looked at my part in each resentment. Where had I been selfish, self-seeking, dishonest, or afraid. Had I caused or contributed to this resentment? Or if I seemingly had no part, I realized that I had flatly refused to forgive them! Oh how the words of Jesus rang in my ears when, at the end of the Lord’s Prayer He said, “For if you forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.” Matthew 6:14–15. That verse kept piercing my soul! How I’d struggled to forgive some of the harms others had done to me. How badly I wanted to let go of those hurts that ran so deep. But no matter how much I tried, I could never muster up the forgiveness needed.
It was a long list. I started in my childhood, remembering slights and things that I thought were ridiculous. But I still remembered them, and that meant I had never let them go. The kid that picked on me in first grade. The teacher that made me stay after school. On through the years I went, noting every single person that came to mind. I was told to ask God to bring to my mind the names or faces of those I should include on my list, and He did! I kept thinking this was a ridiculous exercise in futility, however I knew in my heart that it was not.
When that list was complete, I wrote a second list of things I feared—the big ones like getting sick with cancer or dying, and the seemingly lesser ones—like fear of deep water (even though I could swim well) or of being mortified if I was short on money at the checkout counter. I studied them carefully and wrote down why I had those fears—if I knew.
Finally, a third list of those I had hurt in my selfish pursuit of sex revealed those instances I felt guilty and ashamed of. Nothing counted but honesty and thoroughness, and as I wrote, my confidence grew that I was indeed getting better. God was showing me why I drank, and I began to hope that He might be able to change me. My faith grew stronger by the day, and I sensed His Holy Spirit guiding me as I wrote.
There were times when I grew scared, but my friends shared some of their most difficult revelations with me—and if they had the courage to be honest, then I would, too.
Many do not understand how much fear an alcoholic lives with. Despite our behavior, the truth is that we are fearful people—without exception. We fear having people get too close (lest we hurt them without meaning to) and we fear that they will leave us (which they often do when they’ve had enough). But maybe the biggest fear that most of us suffer from is fear of what other people think! That mattered more than anything to me, and in a desperate attempt to fit in, I’d become a chameleon! That soon led me to a loss of identity—and friends. Left in terrified loneliness, I’d turned to the only friend that never seemed to let me down—John Barleycorn, himself. And he had almost killed me.
I have to say that in the process of taking my inventory, I suffered quite a bit from the fear of what was coming next. It was no secret that once I’d written all this down, I had to quit living in terrified loneliness and isolation. I would need to share it all with another person, in the presence of God, and that scared me more than anything. You see, fear of rejection was what had driven me to do and say things that I so regretted, so how could I possibly tell someone else all about me?
My friends kept reminding me to put my blinders on, and focus on the task at hand. “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” they’d say. “Write as if you were never going to share it, and when the time comes, you’ll find the courage. That’s the way it was with us.” So I wrote. And I prayed. I asked God at the beginning of each session to show me the things I must write, and then at the end, I asked Him to erase those thoughts from my mind. I knew I could not drag around the chains of my misdeeds with me, like the Ghost of Christmas Past in the story about Ebenezer Scrooge, and expect to stay sober. Instead, I turned them back to God each time for safekeeping, and went on with the business of learning how to live.
It worked. And it’s worked every time I’ve revisited that process. Yes, I’ve taken my inventory many more times, and every time, more is revealed. Oh the list is not nearly as long—or seemingly, as serious. I got the big stuff out of the way the first go-around. And honestly, the last time I did an inventory, I couldn’t find a single resentment to write about!
That puzzled me, because I had always found resentments. And then the Lord brought to mind a conversation with a lady years ago who said, “Why don’t you write down a list of people who annoy you?”
Suddenly, I had something to write about, and I’m so grateful that today I can see (with a little help from others) that my resentments like to masquerade as “annoyances.” Thank you, God, for showing me that there is so much more to learn!
The process of looking at my character defects was painful. There were many times I wanted to quit, or crawl back into blissful ignorance. But that life was forever gone. I had seen the truth about myself, and I would never be able to “un-see” it again.
But truth is freedom. And as I took a look at what had come from my selfishness, dishonesty, resentment, and fear, the Lord did a marvelous work and I began to take my first steps on the path of righteousness. The words of Jesus are immensely reassuring, as He says to all of us, “If you abide in My word, you are My disciples indeed. And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.” John 8:31.
