Monday, March 16, 2009

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.


  1. I'm really glad that you started this blog. It's great. And yes, life does go on but it feels better to know that I don't have all the answers. It's a burden lifted from my shoulders. Thanks!

  2. Thanks Syd, and it is a burden lifted, isn't it? To be able to say, "I don't know, and it's not my responsibilty to know. God knows, and I'm leaving it in his hands."