I’m grateful for a gorgeous, sunny morning. I’m grateful for lifelines. I’m grateful for taking a breath or two. I’m grateful for the way things unfold. I’m grateful for direction and purpose. I’m grateful to be sober today.
At some point in my travels yesterday, I was thinking about the word “realizations,” it’s kind of a funny word. I typically use it to describe a sudden re-assessment of something I thought was true: “I realized I didn’t have any butter…”1 In my former usage, there’s an element of surprise to the word “realization.” For example, suddenly “realizing” the creative potential of the “Custom Button Feature” on Substack. Or as we call it here on Thanks for Letting Me Share:2
I was taking one of my walks, excellent skim cortado in hand, and thinking about how funny the word “realize” really is. If you were to break it apart—does’t “real-ize” sound like a process that involves injecting real-ness into things, making things more real? Like,
I’m going to real-ize the hell out of that idea.
I know this is probably not in the dictionary definitions, but it fits more with the other “-ize” words that I’m immediately familiar with: Tenderize, Monetize, Agonize, Organize. Those are all processes and I kind of like my new slant on the word, “Realize.” I’m going to define it as the process of making things more real. Making things actually reflect the way things are in the world—not the alcoholic brain, infinite typewriting chimpanzee army stuff that I often manufacture in its stead and in my head.
Hopefully, we’ve reached the part where you are wondering, “weren’t we supposed to be talking about the Second Step?” Bwahahaha, we already are. The exact words of Step Two are:
Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.
To peek ahead at Step Three, we will be giving this dude the keys pretty soon, so I think that coming to believe is a good start, but I’m going to need to do some real-izing between here and there, or that “decision” is going to resemble a toe dipping in cold water. Which then fuels the “Is all of this really necessary?” version of working the Twelve Steps. Speaking from personal experience, this slightly less rigorous approach does at least produce consistent results. Meaning, it didn’t interrupt my drinking too badly.
Typically, I “believe” in things I can’t see or prove. But what happens when I start seeing proof? What happens when the beliefs start to produce things I can see and feel?I’m starting to realize think that sobriety is a function of beliefs becoming real-ized.3 That is, the things that took root owing to my newly opened mind, nourished by faith, are now becoming real, tangible things.
That doesn’t mean I walk through the world with certainty. I realized came to understand that faith wasn’t about believing that things would all work out the way I imagined and hoped, it was believing that I’ll be okay no matter what. That there is something to learn and a way to get through. It’s less about anticipation and excitement and more about acceptance. The things that are supposed to happen, generally do happen.
That sounds a bit gloomy; it’s anything but. That is how the world changed for me. I came to see the wonder and thrill of letting life unfold in front of me, full of challenges and opportunities, disappointments and contentment. This began simply, the Big Book uses the word “Willingness,” the Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions turns that into ‘keeping an open mind.” It is important to note that this is the beginning , not the end state. “Willingness” is the vehicle that takes us to belief and to acceptance. Just as one might “winterize” one’s car if one lived in Minnesota, one might also “real-ize” their willingness in order to get sober.
People talk a lot about the “end” of the “obsession” with drinking. That’s a very real thing, but what I think is important to understand about that “obsession,” is that it is fundamentally a question:
Don’t you think drinking would be a good idea?
I organized my life around the belief that the answer to that question was almost always “yes.” I think getting sober, having the obsession ebb away, is a function of adopting a new ideology, a new way of thinking, that changes that question, makes it irrelevant. The core of that flawed question is that drinking could actually change things, right? That somehow, drinking could make things better or less worse. That wasn’t always a lie, at the beginning, and maybe even for a long time, drinking did work. It’s just that this alcoholic came to understand pretty early that there was going to be a price for running the machinery this way. For answering that question with such an emphatic, sincere “yes.”
What “lifted the obsession” for me was my new beliefs becoming real, replacing that question with acceptance. If I acknowledge my general lack of control over events in the world, I’m left with what “is,” and my life becomes an exercise in learning what I can, doing my best and understanding that the things that are supposed to happen, generally do happen. Understanding that those are not necessarily things I wanted to happen, doesn’t rob of their their “is-ness” or their importance.
There is a certain comfort in simply “believing” things, but when real-izing meets belief, things can get a little dangerous. Maybe it’s not just, this is how things “could be,” maybe this is how things are? I’ve flogged the seed metaphor quite a bit, but maybe this is more like a snowball rolling down hill. I realize know that in real-life, the little snowball rolling down the mountain doesn’t ever turn into the huge, dense, powerful spheroid of snow that destroys all in its path like in the cartoons. But that’s kind of how sobriety has been working for me. I’ve been real-izing the things I thought could be true and as I said to a friend recently, “Once you start believing this nonsense, there’s not an obvious off-ramp.”4
I think “realizing” is one of the core concepts of sobriety. Turning a speculative belief into a way of life. “Coming to believe,” was a door opening slightly, revealing just a little bit of light. Faith gave me the courage to continue to open the door. “Realizing” is when I knew I could walk through that door and change my life. And I did.
Or worse, “I realized that wasn’t my friend sleeping, it was a Grizzly Bear…”
It would be wrong to assume that every “Mystery Button” leads to the same destination.
See how tricky that is?
Talking to me in real life is just as confusing.