Let Go and Let God.

I like this slogan. I like it for what it means to me, and for what it promises to me, and for the immense safety it contains for me. When I first began to attend meetings, I was willing to listen, only because I'd been brought to my knees by the alcoholic's drinking. But I did not believe in God, a Higher Power, or any of that bosh, thankyou no thankyou. I was quite proud of my atheism, I saw it as the reasoned decision of a sane mind, unswayed by centuries of oogly-googly stuff and nonsense. (Typing that makes me smile, just thinking of how determined I was to go it alone. I was doing a terrible job of it, but hey, I was doing it myself.)


I slowly began to be able to grasp the concept of "letting go" but I became hopelessly stuck on everything after the "and." Then I went across the country to visit my sister, and new as I was to program, realised that she was an alcoholic. On the return trip, I was driving through the mountains, all that spectacular beauty, and the closer I got to home, the more dread I felt - I knew full well what it was going to be like to be back in the marital home, and I felt as though I just couldn't bear it after a time away.

I began to pray to a God I didn't believe in, and I had my first spiritual awakening - I felt it wash down over me like a warm wave, removing all my fear and dread, and leaving me completely at peace, in a way I had never felt. I came to believe at that moment. I realised that I had only to ask, and I would receive help from my Higher Power. I felt a calm certainty that I would be able to manage whatever life threw at me, because I had this source of strength and succor to which I could turn.

Now don't misunderstand me, I'm not saying that this spiritual awakening took place, and it was all hearts and singing birds and prancing through a field of daisies afterwards - life goes on, even after a spiritual awakening, but for me, it has never gone on in quite the same way as before. There's a certain frenzied anguish that has been removed from me, and a type of calm that I can relax into, like falling backwards onto a down quilt - I'm still falling backwards, but my landing is cushioned.