And What to Do When You Do Take Things Personally

Well, that good intention of mine from earlier in the week: “Don’t take things personally” seems to have gone out as an invitation to my character defects to come to a party.

Within hours of my new experiment I was taking lots of things personally and worse, I was noticing it and feeling unable to wrassle the defects down. Not fun!  I found myself particularly challenged by an old habit of thinking that I thought I had dealt with ages ago: “What About Me?” And “I’m important too.” Not attractive and miserably uncomfortable.

But here is the value of long-term recovery: it becomes so hard to entertain those thoughts and feelings for very long. Not that they shimmer once and disappear but it’s hard to pretend that issues belong to other people and are not mine.

In the same way that AA can ruin your drinking, AA can also ruin the pleasure of being right and the dark joy of holding onto a resentment. Even while my hand is on my hip and I am certain of my superior self a tiny voice is whispering,  “What is your part in this?”

My “personalization” had attached itself to two people and I knew that I needed my recovery toolbox and some outside help. So here’s is what I did…and what I am still doing:

First: I began to pray for help. The first prayers sounded like this: “Oh God what is this crap in my head? Help me. Yuck. I hate this. Remove this. Come on, come on, come on…get this out of me. Hurry up.”

Second: I knew I had to tell on myself so I emailed my sponsor and a close friend. I told them my mean thoughts and the nasty burning feeling I was having about people. I admitted that I was actually wishing someone ill and that while I knew it was my yuck, I was mad.  I was also sad and scared to find myself in this yuck.

Then: I changed my prayer to something like, “Please help me. I think this is old family stuff and its getting attached to someone who triggers old jealousy and fear. I know this is mine but I can’t see my way out. Give me courage to do what I need to do to get clarity. I want to be free. Help.”

Fourth: The written word. I got on the train to go to New York City. The rhythm of the train and the beautiful river views from Albany to Manhattan helped me and I kept praying. I had my Kindle with me and I opened it looking for some kind of help and there I found the book, “Drop the Rock.” Perfect. It told me that this was all about Steps Six and Seven. Bingo. I know that, so I began to pray the Seventh Step prayer. That helped too.

Throughout the day in New York my mantra was, “I turn my will and my life over to you.” It wasn’t perfect. My yuck kept breaking through to remind me about “her” and “him”. But I used 6 and 7 and my mantra prayer. By the time I was back on the train to come home the grip was lessening.

Then: The next day I went out to walk and took my IPod Shuffle along. The Shuffle is a God tool. I’ve got a mix of music, talks, and recovery stuff on the Shuffle and as you know—it shuffles—so it’s unpredictable. And what popped right up as I began to walk and listen? A Joe and Charlie talk on Steps 6 and 7. Uh huh. Again 6 and 7. By now I’m laughing.

But I listened and here’s what they had to say about Six and Seven: God will remove what God can remove and God will do what I can’t do. But God doesn’t do what I can. Yeah. And what I can do in steps 6 and 7 is “Do the opposite”. Brilliant but shocking.

“Do the opposite.” God will remove the defect if and when we start doing the opposite of the defect we want removed. Want lying removed? Start telling the truth. I wanted jealousy and scarcity removed so I had to start sharing and praising and being really emotionally generous. Ha! Not easy but I was motivated by wanting relief so I began. And because I like to measure everything I began to count my new behaviors. I made a game of it. How many times each day can I do the very opposite of the thing I am struggling with? (Of course, you see that making it into a game lightened the weight and gave me some power back—in a good way.)

So here I am days later. No, not fixed. But hyper-aware of my part and of a simple set of actions that I can take to shift a defect of character while God does his thing with it. And yes, I am still praying “hurry up, hurry up” cause I hate discomfort just like you. But I can see my part and I have some steps to take and the light is there at the end of this tunnel. And that, I am taking very personally.

Have a Retirement Party for Your Character Defects

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." 

Steps 6 & 7

I keep coming back to read “Drop the Rock” again. Steps Six and Seven. Today I read, “God can’t remove our defects of character if we keep practicing them.”

Oh, I hate that. It means I can’t keep saying, “I’ll just finish up this last bag of candy or finish these cookies someone gave me.” I won’t gossip any more—right after I tell this one story.” “I’ll be brave or surrendered very soon, but this thing I’m facing today, that’s scary.”

I have to get it through my head that God is helping me and willing to remove these but the big cartoon hand is not going to come from the sky and snatch the bag of licorice from me or swoosh me out of the store where I'm contemplating just one more pair of shoes. I mean, if I just get this pair then I’ll have all the shoes I need—until I see the newest, latest, most chic….

“Stop practicing them.” It’s that easy and that hard. And why I need to keep talking.

My Rocks My Self

As I’m working through my list of “rocks to drop” (Steps Six and Seven) I find  that I need to remind myself that I am dropping these rocks for me. Not for him or her or them. But for me—for my recovery, my peace of mind and my sanity.

I also have to remind myself that I drop these rocks because I’m the one with the 12-step program and I’m the one who needs to make changes and who wants to be changed. It doesn’t matter if he or she is right or wrong or better or worse; it doesn’t matter if it’s fair or unfair. These are my rocks, and I drop them—or try to --one day at a time—for me.

Step Seven is a Retirement Party

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 is a world of difference from asking God to remove the defects that I don’t like or the defects that effect how others think of me. Here is a place that humility kicks in—I don’t necessarily get to choose the defects, God does. I can’t use the Seventh Step in a codependent or self-serving way, “Now I’ll get so good that everyone will like me.”

But here’s another bit of Step Seven wisdom I got from a very early sponsor with help from a very early therapist: We do not kill our character defects! My first therapist in recovery (I distinguish from the previous ones that I never told the truth to) pointed out to me that my “character defects” were all things that saved my life growing up. Being a “high screener”—super vigilant --is a life saving skill in an alcoholic home. Also being super organized (controlling) keeps a kid sane and able to function. Being hyperaware of other people’s feelings and anticipating them also makes a chaotic world safer and more manageable. Telling lies, stuffing feelings, being seductive or bossy or too complaint were all part of survival.

And so my defects were once assets.

Until they weren’t.

So my early 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—in recovery—to hate myself.

Instead we could retire our character defects.

I love the idea of retirement. If we think of character defects as workers whose skills no longer fit the company’s goals then retirement is honorable and appropriate. And just as in a business we can say, “hey we are doing new things now and doing things a new way” but we can honor the “retirees” for all they gave to our enterprise. Rather than shove the character defects out the door or pray that God snatches them up and destroys them we could have a retirement party.

Imagine that. We could list the defects and thank them for their contributions, listing the ways they served us, thanking them for their help in our early lives. Laughter and stories just like a real retirement party. And then we walk them to the door and take their keys and parking pass. But we don’t kill retirees.

But here’s the thing: just like at our workplace, sometimes retirees come back to visit—often at inopportune times—and that can be annoying, frustrating, maybe funny, but we don’t kill them. We may say, “I remember you” and then ever so gently, “You don’t work here anymore.” And we walk them to the door again. But we don’t kill them.

Integration or Insight is the Booby Prize

Today I am in that painful place of having insight and understanding but not change. I’ve been working through some things and had great moments of “Aha, now I’ve got it.” I see why I do it; I know where it comes from; I know what change would look like, but grrrr…I’m not doing the new behavior. Frustrating.

It’s not integrated. It feels like I have the understanding in my head but it has not “dropped down” into my heart or body.

My prayer is to get what is in my mind to integrate with my body and behavior.

I think this is also the “X” factor in Steps 6 and 7.

In this equation “X” equals God.

Powerless and in Pain

For therapy I am doing a relationship history. Looking at patterns: the kind of men I pick, the kind I love, the kind I leave. I am here one more time asking: “Why this man?” I am full of insight but perhaps not wisdom. So much therapy. So much recovery. It can only be up to God now. That is what steps six and seven are about. Twenty-five years later I am again sick and tired of being sick and tired. So we say it’s Step One and that means powerless. Am I really powerless? So hard to imagine. I sought this, chose it, flirted, had coffee with him again. Reader, I kissed him. The rest is painful history.

So where is the powerlessness? Maybe if you believe in the schemas of cognitive therapy, that they are not just psychological but neural as well, that they engrave patterns on our nervous systems as well as add scent bait to the wrong partner, then yes powerless. Today it just hurts. I am powerless and in pain.

Steps Six and Seven

This separates the boys from the men and maybe it separates the women from the men too. In my case maybe that’s a good thing! I am looking at my patterns in relationships. That old, scared part of me that connect me to men who cannot be there in a committed way or who are unavailable: married, depressed, long distance, too busy, distracted or unavailable in some way. A wiser woman would walk away but I walk toward. The insight is not new, the grieving is not new but the impact of what this has cost me and others is overwhelming.

This makes steps six and seven so important. There is what I can do: inventory, therapy, amends, and changing my behavior when I can catch it but the old habits of thought and fear—so deeply ingrained they feel like simple reality. I need God’s help for that to change. Please remove these “defects of character” that get in the way of my relationship with you and others. That’s it.