In the Seventh Step prayer we humbly ask God to remove the
defects of character that “stand in the way of my usefulness to you (God) and
my fellows.”
That was something that I always wanted. But it took me a
long time to understand that there is a world of difference from asking God to
remove the defects that limit my usefulness to others versus the ones that that
I don’t like or the defects that effect how others think of me. I wanted Step
Seven to be a kind of self-improvement process or like getting a makeover. What
I have come to realize is that this is a place where that humility is key: I
don’t necessarily get to choose which defects that will be removed. My Higher Power does. I don’t get to use the Seventh
Step in a self-serving way, “Now I’ll get so good that everyone will like me.”
So how to approach this step in a loving, and not
self-defeating way?
Here’s a bit of Step Seven wisdom I got from an early
sponsor. We do not kill our character
defects! My first therapist in recovery pointed out to me that my “character
defects” were all things that saved my life growing up. Being a “high
screener”—super vigilant --was a life saving skill in an alcoholic home. And
being super organized (controlling) gave me a sense of safety and security as a
kid. Being hyperaware of other people’s feelings and anticipating them made a
chaotic world more manageable. Telling lies, stuffing feelings, being seductive
or bossy or too complaint were all part of my survival.
And so my defects were once important assets.
Until they weren’t.
My sponsor pointed out that it didn’t make sense to hate
these parts of me because they were, in fact, part of me and that I didn’t
want to hate myself. Instead I could retire my character defects.
I love the idea of retirement. If we think of our character
defects as workers whose skills no longer fit our company’s goals then retirement
is honorable and appropriate. Just as in a business we can say, “Hey, we are
doing new things now and doing things a new way” but we honor the “retirees” for
all they gave to our enterprise. Rather than shove the character defects out
the door or pray that God destroys them we could have a retirement party for
our character defects.
Imagine that. We could list each defect and thank them for
their contribution and for their help in our early lives. There could be laughter
and stories just like a real retirement party. And then we could walk them to
the door, take their keys and shake their hand.
But we don’t have to kill
the retirees.
Here’s the thing to remember: Just like at our workplace,
sometimes retirees come back to visit—and sometimes they visit at inopportune
times—and that can be frustrating. But again, we don’t kill them. We may say, “ Hey, I
remember you; remember how we used to work together?” And then, ever so gently,
we might say, “But you don’t work here
anymore.” And we walk them to the door, and say, "Now there ya go."
