Dear Bee,
Step Four in any Twelve Steps program asks us to make the infamous fearless and searching moral inventory of ourselves. I haven’t gotten this far in my work yet, but I will be reaching it soon. I actually think this is a good exercise for anyone (not just people in these programs) who wants to reexamine their past, own up to any mistakes, and release any of the anxiety they may have about their secrets. We owe it to ourselves to stop holding onto all these grudges and regrets, right?
In my meeting this morning, we did a 15-minute free-write response on the question: Do I really seeing the importance of doing the inventory?
My response (unedited)
To me, Step Four embodies strength, in that it exclusively focuses on exposing weakness-on unleashing vulnerability. Step Four requires us to break through the shame of our illnesses. It expects us to choose ruthless honesty, and for many of us, this may be the first time we really learn how to tell the truth.
An inventory shows us how the events and decisions made in our past have shaped us into who we are in the present, into the people we are today.
In the very first session I had with my therapist, I told her that nobody really knew about my eating disorder, about my longstanding secret from the world, to which she responded, “secrets keep you sick”, a phrase I have heard many times in these rooms. My secrets are what keep me caught in the preoccupation and insanity. Honesty, on the other hand, allows me to release and let go, to learn and contemplate, to explore potential outcomes for the next time, to discover new solutions. For this reason, an inventory is a tool–a timetable of who we are and what we’ve done, and with that tool, we can work towards becoming who we want to be and what we want to do.
Inventories acknowledge the whole picture- we find new patterns, new ideas ,new framework to embark and continue our recoveries.
What a gift, then, this must be for us- what an inspiring way to heal ourselves- to release the weight off our shoulders, to let go of what we’ve been clutching onto, to find the silver linings in the choices that once haunted us. What a way to reinforce that we are worth the happiness we want, the freedom we seek, and the recovery we need.
I get cocky when I read my writing aloud because I know it moves people. In fact, a guy today told me that I should be publishing this. I just laughed…brushed it off.
I’ve been praised for this skill my entire life, and I don’t discredit my talent. Sometimes, however, I do wonder if this is just another way I desire external validation? I love helping others, sure, but I also like feeling good about myself. And praise feels good!
I mean, I know this blog moves people because I have received extraordinary feedback and the kindest of compliments from my readers. I would be lying if I said I didn’t care about the attention. Do I write for the sheer pleasure and joy of it? Absolutely. But, do I also write because I know I’m good at it and people enjoy reading what I have to say? Absolutely.
As my sponsor likes to tell me, every time you speak or write, something is getting through to someone. So knowing that somewhere out there, I”m helping someone else while also satisfying my own selfish need for attention and approval…well I can accept that.
And who knows? Maybe one day I can turn all these letters into some kind of a memoir to show the world what the real up-and-down journey we call recovery looks like. To show that it’s messy, unpredictable, but always, always perfectly imperfect.
