Self-Discipline Fills My Spiritual Suitcase

Sunday night, I packed for this week’s business trip. I’ve learned over time that I need to make a mental checklist of items I will need for the week ahead. This is especially true when I am packing for my first trip after a few consecutive weeks of being home. Somehow, when I’m home, my packing skills grow weak, and I become especially prone to forgetting things.

I’m pleased to report that I did not forget anything for this trip. That’s not to say, however, that my packing for this week was perfect.

As soon as I was out of bed, I opened the drawer where my folded clothing is stored. I threw on the t-shirt I packed for mornings, as well as the shorts. The black pajama shorts I like to wear. The ones that look a lot like black bicycle shorts Amanda wears.

This morning, I discovered that her shorts do not fit me. As I pulled them up, something felt odd. It was more like trying to pull on a pair of my spandex cycling shorts. Only this pair would not even go up midway past my thigh. So, I pulled them down, and sure enough, I had grabbed a pair of Amanda’s shorts instead of my own.

In the same way that packing clothes helps prepare me for a business trip, I have found it useful to pack my recovery too. I look ahead at my week, and assess whether or not there will be time for a Twelve Step meeting. I prepare myself mentally for how to get there. Then, I execute that plan.

When preparing for last night’s meeting, I remembered having been there last summer. What I could not remember was which entrance into the large church I should use to find the meeting, so I allowed extra time just to be sure. I arrived, and a fellow saw me exploring the building’s exterior, “Are you looking for the meeting?” I answered that I was, and he pointed to the door, “Go downstairs to the basement.” I thanked him, and did as he said. Soon, I was there, and was helping set up chairs, and visiting with the other recovering addicts in the room.

It was a success!

On the other hand, however, there have been times that I’ve shown up for a meeting in another town, only to find that the meeting no longer exists. The first time this happened to me was back when I was trying to get clean for the first time. I had not worked any steps with a sponsor… I was too special to need that. So, frustrated, I looked up, and decided it was a sign from God that I didn’t really need recovery after all. I literally told myself that; and I used again that night.

When I say that I pack my recovery for business trips, what I mean is that I depend on everything I have learned about myself and about recovery over the past several years. In the same way I usually pack extra socks and under ware in my suitcase, I pack those lessons learned in my spiritual suitcase. That night that I credited God with my drug use, I didn’t even own a spiritual suitcase; much less have one that was filled with the knowledge and tools needed for such an occasion.

The key to keeping my spiritual suitcase filled is found in the practice of self-discipline. It is easy to grow complacent in recovery. We regularly hear the stories of addicts whose complacency has led to relapse and even death. So, even when tempted to be complacent, I pack prayer and meditation, meeting attendance, reading literature of a spiritual nature, and doing step work.

Because of that self-discipline, I can laugh when things don’t go my way, instead of using life’s hiccups as an excuse to use. When I pull on a pair of shorts, and realize the mistake I’ve made, I don’t use it as an excuse to sit around naked. I just chuckle, and come up with an alternative plan.

Have a remarkable day!

Self-Discipline – No More Huffing and Puffing

This morning, I have a wonderful view out my hotel window of the New York City skyline. It’s a sight I never grow tired of. Yet, there is a problem. That is, I’m supposed to looking out over the city of Red Wing, Minnesota this morning.

It began shortly after I cleared security yesterday morning. My phone notified me that my 6:55 a.m. flight was now delayed until 10:00. So, after spending an hour or so clearing through emails, and making a few calls, I went down to the gate to see what could be done to salvage my trip.

“It looks like you will be spending the night at LaGuardia. Ew, they booked you on a flight that doesn’t get in until 11:30 tonight. Let me see if I can change that.” The agent at the gate was very apologetic. I just smiled and told her it would be an adventure. One I was sure I would survive. To this, she replied that she wished everyone could have my attitude.

So, what did my smile and positive outlook do for me? Well, most importantly, it protected my spirit. In what could otherwise have been a stressful situation, I remained calm and maintained a positive outlook. Not once yesterday did I lose my cool. My reward was a very good night’s sleep.

On the more tangible side of things, my positive attitude got me an aisle seat on a flight that got me to New York by 6:00 instead of 11:30. I got a free night’s stay at a very nice hotel, a meal voucher, and an upgrade to first class on this morning’s flight to Minneapolis.

From my perspective, it seemed like a whole lot of folks were huffing and puffing yesterday, and not getting anywhere with it. Turning an inconvenience or an event into a crisis, is not something that happens exclusively to drug addicts. It is a way of life for a lot of folks. There have been times in my life where I was a huffer/puffer, too.

Self-discipline serves me well in many situations. Yesterday, it allowed me to take time to breath after learning that my plans had changed. Then, it allowed me to visit with that ticket agent with a smile on my face and a heart that was light. The benefits were many, but the chief benefit from yesterday’s adventure was that I maintained serenity throughout my day.

I’m in Minneapolis now. My ride will be here soon. Time to go out and…

Have a remarkable day!

Self-Discipline – My Dog Won’t Let Me Sleep In!

Sometimes it takes a relapse to bring about real change in the life of an addict seeking recovery. At other times, what’s needed is a 16-pound dog jumping on your chest! – Me

This morning when my alarm went off I silenced it and closed my eyes. “Just a little more sleep,” I thought. Then I laid my head back down on my pillow. Ahhh…nice!

Well, nice until Ana, our Pekingese jumped on my chest. “But girl, I just want a little more sleep.” She was having nothing of it. Since merely jumping on my chest was not enough to motivate me, she began licking my face. “Ok girl. I’m up.”

She knows that when my alarm sounds her breakfast is soon to follow. So, sleeping in is rarely an option. She is more reliable than any snooze button I’ve ever had.

When I drew self-discipline this morning, I was reminded of the fact that for so many of us, our last relapse was so bad that we found ourselves motivated to change. While relapse is not required, for many of us it is an integral part of our story. In my case, my last relapse reminded me that I had already alienated so many people with my drug abuse, and I was about to alienate a whole new group of people if I didn’t get my act together.

So, I began working the Twelve Steps with my sponsor, practicing prayer and meditation, and truly seeking God’s will for my life over self-will. When I did these things, my life began changing radically.

Today, relapse is off the table. Despite the fact that I think often about using drugs, I have to tools today to work through those thoughts. I can dig into my feelings and emotions to identify what is going on between my ears that triggered thoughts of using, and apply all this stuff I’ve been practicing for the past seven years.

These things come in handy to fend off any thoughts of relapse. However, it still leaves me with an issue. If relapse, as a motivator for change, is off the table, then what will motivate me to change? What will be my 16-pound Pekingese jumping on my chest and licking my face when I want to hit life’s snooze button?

Steps Six and Seven are all about seeking God’s help in removing the character defects that make life’s snooze button so appealing. These two steps present a bit of a paradox for me. On the one hand I am convinced beyond the shadow of a doubt that God is more than able to remove each and every shortcoming from my life. On the other hand, I am absolutely certain that to date, He has chosen not to.

Some would look at this situation and declare God to be unjust or unloving. Others would see it as proof that there is no God at all.

I see an entirely different option. I see God’s inaction in this area of my life as the ultimate act of love and sacrifice. He does not force His will upon me, even though He could. He does not demand that I bow my knee to His every whim. He doesn’t even demand that I believe in Him at all.

Instead, even when it pains God to see the choices I sometimes make, He gives me the ability to choose my actions and reactions. He gives me the tools to choose the spiritual path, or the path paved with character defects. That is how much God loves me!

So, if God is not going to be life’s 16-pound Pekingese, jumping on my chest and licking my face, what will I do? It’s simple. I practice self-discipline. I don’t work the Steps to have God magically transform me. I work them so that He can equip me with tools that will bring the much needed transformation about in my life.

Then, through self-discipline, I use those tools over and over and over again. I use them until they are deeply embedded in my persona. Thus, self-discipline is not only the 16-pound Pekingese in my life. It is also the ultimate reminder of God’s love, and His willingness to show me a better way to live.

Have a remarkable day!

Self-Discipline and Dent Repair

Over Thanksgiving weekend, our family had planned to all meet at a restaurant for lunch. The parking lot we pulled up to was sloped, making opening and closing car doors more of a task. So, while for me, opening my door meant more effort to push it open; for the vehicle next to me, it meant more effort to hold it back while opening it.

Unfortunately, I chose to park next to my brother-in-law’s vehicle. It’s a huge SUV big enough to haul the whole family around. My decision was unfortunate because they had been waiting for us to pull up, and when we did, our six-year-old nephew was very excited to see us. He had climbed into the front passenger seat, and when he realized it was us, threw his door open.

The result was the mother of all door dings. In reality, it was no ding at all. It was a dent that went a good half-inch deep. OUCH!

I’m not going to pretend that I was happy about the state my door was in. That would be silly. I will say that I was not rattled by it. Stuff happens. Sometimes, costly stuff happens. That’s no reason for me to get angry at a six-year-old. Especially when he told me emphatically how sorry he was.

“It’s ok, Coco. It can be fixed. Let’s go enjoy our lunch!” And we did just that.

Night-before-last, Coco and his sister Sophia spent the night at our house. They consider it a real adventure to sleep here. That’s how Amanda and I feel about it too. Yesterday morning, I went to the local donut shop to pick up breakfast, and upon my return, I told Coco we had a project to work on together.

“Do you remember that dent in my car?”

“Yes.”

“Well, this morning you and I are going to repair it.”

I had purchased one of those dent pulling kits that uses hot glue. Pretty soon, the two of us were out in the garage, preparing everything needed to make our repairs. It took a couple tries, but we eventually got the hang of it, and were able to pull most of the door panel back into place.

As we worked, I explained to Coco the importance of making things right. We talked about the difference between making amends and simply saying “I’m sorry.” I told him I was proud of him for helping me repair the damage, explaining that even though it was an accident, there was still room to make things right.

I felt like a really good uncle yesterday morning. My time spent with Coco was about so much more than just fixing a dent in my car. Not only does Coco know that I love him, but he knows I care enough about him to help him repair things that have been damaged.

Durning my time in active addiction, I left a lot of dents in my wake. Sadly, unlike Coco who immediately felt bad about the dent he had made in my car’s door, I was oblivious to much of the damage I was doing. By the time I became aware of the damage, my uncaring attitude prevented me from even the pretense of an apology.

Over the past several years in recovery, I have had the opportunity to repair a good number of those old dents. It is those that have been left unattended that cause the most pain. Amends owed that I may never get to make.

Step Eight is about becoming willing to make amends. Then, Step Nine provides the opportunity to make amends wherever possible. I’ve never met an addict who didn’t have a gap between the list of Step Eight and the action of Step Nine. A gap consisting of unmade or not able to be made amends. Dents that I’m not allowed anywhere near.

Self-discipline helps to prepare me for the day when I may be given the opportunity to make those amends that reside in that gap. Instead of hardening my heart, self-discipline reminds me that I must keep my dent repair kit handy. Not only that, but it also requires that I live in such a way that I don’t leave new dents in my wake.

Coco and I were so proud of the work we did yesterday morning. We did more than just repair some damage. We restored relationship. There is still a small blemish remaining where that dent once was. In my mind, that is just fine, because when I look at it, I will no longer be reminded of the damage done. Instead, I’ll be reminded of the power of making amends.

Have a remarkable day!

Self-Discipline and Submitting to the Director

Last night our family attended a choir concert. A friend is a member of the all-men’s choir, and I was excited to hear them perform. I did not count, but my guess is that there were around forty men on the platform. Additionally, there was a pianist and of course, the director.

As I sit here reflecting on last night’s performance, I am reminded of a time when my daughter, Arlena, was in her high school choir. Back then, her choir teacher was the director. I remember how much she admired and appreciated him. Mr. Roberts was his name, but the students had all taken to calling him simply Roberts.

At the time I marveled at his ability to bring teenagers together to make such beautiful sounds. It never occurred to me to question the need for his direction. After all, how else would a group of high schoolers be able to coordinate their efforts without a director. Roberts was not just important, he was critical.

During last night’s performance, I didn’t question the role of the director either. Even though there was one gentleman in the choir who had to be in his late seventies or even older, he was following the directions of the much younger lady standing behind the podium. I never had even the slightest notion that he thought he was above being led by her.

In fact, to a person, I could see the respect and admiration each man in last night’s choir had for their director. Before their final song, she tearfully announced that last night would be her final concert. She and her husband are retiring, and moving to another state in January. That respect and admiration only grew in the eyes of the men as tears began to form in them as well.

There is a lesson for me in both my daughter’s high school choir and the one our family saw perform last night. Within either of those groups there was a great amount of talent present. People with voices that would impress even the critical judges of American Idol. Yet, members of both choirs willingly submitted to the will of their director.

In the case of the high schoolers, there may have occasionally been those times when they wanted to rebel, thinking they could do just fines without Mr. Roberts. Ha! High schoolers!

Then there are the men from last night. Each fully grown and mature, yet willingly submitting to the director’s will.

Self-discipline is a key component to my daily attempts to live out the Third Step Prayer – “Take my will and my life, guide me in my recovery, show me how to live.” When I was new to recovery, not only was my brain still reeling from the effects of the drugs I’d been ingesting, but my ego was out of control. I was accustomed to getting what I wanted, when I wanted it. Thus, it took time before seeking God’s will for my life would become anything more than mere words meant to appease those around me or to fit in.

As time goes by, and the recovering addict experiences changes for the better, complacency becomes a real danger. Broken down to its most basic form, complacency is a turning away from that Third Step Prayer. No real action is required for this to happen. Rather, the recovering addict simply stops doing the things that brought change to their life in the first place. They begin living without the Director who had made everything good in their lives possible.

That is part of the reason that I wake each day to my morning coffee and time of prayer and meditation. It is my way of acknowledging the fact that I cannot do this without God’s help. Yes, it requires self-discipline; but I have not found any pursuit more deserving of it. I respect and admire the Director of my life, willingly submitting to His will rather than my own.

Lord, help me to never grow complacent in my recovery. Help me to live in such a way that others would be drawn to you as the Director in their lives. Let my life be proof that we do recover.

Have a remarkable day!

Self-Discipline – the Fuel Behind Decisionmaking

What’s keeping me up at night? What’s so pressing on my mind that I cannot fall asleep? Is there something in the back of my mind that gnaws at me regularly, doing its best to rob me of my serenity?

In fourth grade, that one thing was my desk. Oh boy was it a mess. It was one of those desks with the pop-up top. In it were my books, note paper, pencils, and other school supplies. Our teacher, Miss DeYoung, liked to do surprise inspections of her students’ desks to be sure we were keeping them neat and organized. Mine was anything but; and it kept me up at night, worrying that I would be found out as a student with a messy desk.

That kind of messiness, where my desk is concerned, has always been an issue for me. So, a few weeks ago, when Amanda and Shaun surprised me with new office furniture, I decided it was time for a change. It was time to stop living with a messy desk, and give myself the gift of a tidy workspace.

I’m happy to report that I have been successful in keeping my desk neat and tidy since then. The last thing I do each day is to carefully gather any of the day’s work that is yet to be completed, and put it away where it belongs. There are no random pens or paper clips left out. Even my coffee cups or drinking glasses get cleared away.

Is this what winning feels like???

There is a saying among recovering drug addicts that says when the pain of staying the same becomes too great we will change. It has been my experience that this statement holds true for most of us. We kept on using drugs until that point at which the pain was simply too great to continue.

One of the beautiful parts of recovery is that I no longer need to wait for pain to become unbearable before choosing to change. My desk is a handy example of this fact. Unlike fourth grade, nobody was going to do a surprise inspection of my desk to see if it was organized. Miss DeYoung was not going to magically appear, asking me to open the drawers for inspection.

Instead, I just decided it was time for a change. Wow, talk about two powerful and beautiful words – “I decided.” It was not the drugs deciding for me. Nor was it judge or prison guard (though I’m personally not familiar with what that feels like, most of my peers in recovery know it all too well. If I had continued on the path I was on in my active addiction, I’d have eventually come to know it too, I’m sure).

Of course, a decision is a pretty useless thing without corresponding action. Self-discipline is the fuel that drives my actions. My daily routine of tidying up my desk only happens because I choose to make it happen. Even though by now, doing so has become a habit, it would be all too easy to backslide on my commitment to keeping a clean desk. So, there will always be an element of self-discipline involved in the process.

I’m grateful for the office furniture Shaun and Amanda surprised me with. It was a thoughtful and timely gift. It is a good metaphor for the gift of recovery. When I was drowning in my addiction, this simple set of principles that are designed to help me live in God’s will rather than my own, saved me from myself.

Have a remarkable day!

Self-Discipline and Life’s Presentations

Me – “Would you like to hear my presentation?”

Amanda – “I’ve already heard it three times, Babe.”

My office sits right above our bedroom. On Tuesday, I was putting the finishing touches on a presentation I gave to two different groups this week. It was a PowerPoint slide show that one of my coworkers had prepared for me. My coworker, Tom, is much more well versed in the content of the presentation than I, so I wanted to be extra careful to get it right.

When I was ready for my first rehearsal, I recalled some PowerPoint training I had done earlier in the year. In that training, I learned that there is an AI rehearsal coach built into the software. So, I opened the rehearsal coach, and pressed the button to begin.

The coach has a feature that will provide feedback as the presentation is proceeding. “Try to not use fillers like ‘Um’”. “You are doing great!” “Slow your tempo.” “You are doing great!” “Try to use more inflection in your voice.” “Good job!”

By the time I finished the first 20 minute rehearsal, I’d received a lot of feedback. Then came the analytics page. It pointed out three pages on which I had read the slides verbatim, rather than summarizing them as I should. It also had graphs showing my words per minute and the inflection of my voice.

My second rehearsal went better. I had familiarized myself with those three pages, so no more reading them verbatim. I had eliminated a lot of filler words like “um” and “uh.” There was no more monotone voice, and my tempo had remained consistent throughout.

By the end of my third rehearsal, I WAS READY!

I’m happy to report that my presentation went well. I gave it on Wednesday afternoon, and then again yesterday afternoon. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good. Not only had I practiced, but I also gave myself the advantage of allowing a coach, albeit an AI coach, assist me in the process. Then, I showed up and gave the presentation.

The experience reminds me a lot of recovery. The presentation in recovery consists of the Twelve Steps and the spiritual principles they reveal. Instead of trying to wing it, hoping I can draw on those principles in a pinch, I have learned to practice them “in all of my affairs.” For a coach, I have my sponsor, as well as other addicts who are in my circle of recovery friends. All people who can offer me guidance, feedback, and who have permission to let me know when I’m falling short of my potential.

It’s that final part that is most important. All the Twelve Steps, spiritual principles, practice, and coaching in the world mean nothing if I fail to show up. The showing up part of my recovery is what makes it all worthwhile. Having rehearsed, practicing being a healthy and contributing member of society, I find myself ready for life. Ready to be the person God designed me to be.

I’m so grateful for the life I have been given today. It’s so much more than simply a life free from the awful effects of drugs. It is a life in which I am becoming that person God dreamt of me being all along. In fact, some might look at my life and wonder why I keep doing recovery. The answer is simple. My life today is a presentation prepared by God. It is familiar, but still not quite natural. I have to practice, and the key to that practice is self-discipline.

Have a remarkable day!

Self-Discipline and the FABT

“Thank you for not getting drunk this afternoon.” – Amanda, last night.

I was introduced to a new breed of traveler yesterday. The Friday Afternoon Business Traveler, or FABT. My flight didn’t leave until 2:30, so I was stuck in limbo between my hotel’s check-out time, and boarding my flight home. It was the perfect opportunity to discover why my company provides a membership to the Admiral’s Club.

I was able to find a comfortable chair with a mini-desk attached to one of its arms. I was directly across from the food too, so I had plenty of snacks and beverages from which to choose. So, for the better part of three hours, there I sat, preparing annual appraisals for my team. It was the perfect environment for work. Perfect, that is, until the invasion of the FABTs.

The downside of the seat I had chosen was that it was within range of the bar. A bar serving free drinks to club members.

Most of us were taking it easy. Working, and enjoying the snacks and maybe a beverage or two. (My beverages were espresso first, followed by water of course.) There were two people at the bar who were in a much different boat. A lady seated at one end, and a fellow seated at the other. As the afternoon progressed, and they both had more and more to drink, their conversation grew louder and louder. He was flirting, and she was playing along, yet giving no ground.

“He has a southern accent. I hope he’s not on my plane,” said a lady seated directly across from me. We had exchanged eye-rolls and snickers as the afternoon progressed. I agreed with her, hoping he was not headed to Tulsa either.

When time came for me to head to my gate, having filled myself with Swedish meatballs and hummus, I bid the lady across from me safe travels and headed out. Only a few moments after arriving at my gate, my FATB friends from the bar showed up. Yup… they were headed to Tulsa. In fact, several of us who had been in the Admiral’s Club were there, and we were all seated close together on the flight. It was quiet though, because the rowdy one of the bunch passed out the moment he hit his seat.

I finished telling my story to Amanda by telling her that as I exited the plane, the once rowdy passenger was rowdy no more. He was, instead, quietly stewing in frustration, having spent several minutes searching for his carry-on suitcase. The one he had left back in Chicago.

That was the point at which Amanda thanked me for not getting drunk at the airport. Her gratitude was sincere. We both know what it is like to be that fellow separated from his luggage. We both also know the pain being that fellow brings to our family and friends. It is all too easy to be that FABT. Only in my case, it would not just be on a Friday afternoon.

Self-discipline is a distinctive spiritual principle. At least it is for me. It is one that reminds me how important it is to maintain constant contact with God. It reminds me of the critical role “practice” plays in living the new way of life I have found in recovery. It is because of that practice that I was able to be an FABT, and stay clean.

The alcohol being served yesterday does not pose much of a threat to me because it is not a source of temptation. Whereas it once held sway over my life, that particular substance no longer does.

Instead, the potential threat for me lies in the drive from the airport to my house. There are plenty of those parts of town between here and there where finding drugs is easy. Those are the areas for this FABT that could spell danger, and on my own, I lack the willpower to drive past them.

Thankfully, by working the Twelve Steps with my sponsor, and learning to practice spiritual principles, I don’t need willpower, because I have developed something much more valuable. Today, I have self-discipline that begins each day with my morning routine. It carries me throughout the day as I reflect on the incredible life I have, and the new way of living I have discovered.

Yes, I know what it’s like to be that fellow. I know the pain and embarrassment. Thankfully, I never have to live that way again.

Have a remarkable day!

Self-Discipline Lessons from Eric

My very first taekwondo lesson took place the fall of my freshman year of high school. By the end of my junior year, I was the only student left from that original class, and had begun teaching classes. It was a great arrangement – I got my lessons for free, and the owner of the small studio got an evening or two away from work each week.

One of the students I taught was named Eric. He was in middle school when I began teaching him. It was great watching him rise through the various ranks. Great, yet intimidating, because Eric was so much better than I was at EVERYTHING.

Neither one of us was particularly gifted as an athlete. We both had to work for whatever progress we made, or trophies we won at tournaments. What made Eric so much better was the fact that he invested just as many hours per week practicing at home as he did in the classroom.

It would be tempting to think that Eric had the taekwondo equivalent of a “Baseball Dad,” constantly badgering his children to practice, practice, practice; so he could live vicariously through his sons. However, Eric’s little brother proved any such theories false. He was like me, enjoying the sport, but not practicing very much outside of classroom time.

No, Eric’s drive was all his own. He saw something he wanted, a black belt, and worked hard daily to attain it. Eric worked so hard, in fact, that he eventually came to own the taekwondo studio, purchasing it from our instructor while he was still in high school. (His mom and dad handled the business side of things, and helped with the capital needed; but the studio was Eric’s to make the most of.)

When I was first introduced to recovery, I tried to treat it as I had treated taekwondo years ago. I went to meetings regularly, but did not really want to bother with the Twelve Steps outside of time spent in meetings. I was not interested in becoming self-disciplined enough to have what was talked about in meetings permeate the rest of my life. I certainly was not going to sit down and work the Twelve Steps with a sponsor. I was just too busy for that.

Just as no one forced me to practice outside the taekwondo studio all those years earlier, no one was insisting I work on my recovery outside the four walls of a meeting. Sure, it was strongly suggested, but not demanded. So, for those first few months I coasted. Coasted and relapsed.

After relapsing, I would actually have the audacity to look around me at addicts who were experiencing change in their lives, and freedom from active addiction; and wonder why they had it so good, and I could not seem to get it.

The fact was that I wanted the results of a strong program of recovery without the investment. Unlike taekwondo, which did not require practice outside of the classroom in order to progress, recovery demands it. If I was going to succeed in recovery, I would need to become more like Eric.

Instead of practicing kicks and punches, I would need to practice spiritual principles wherever I went. The key to doing so came through step work with my sponsor. That is where I gained understanding of the principles, as well as the character defects I wrestled with daily.

This battle still requires self-discipline. Today, though, having experienced the benefits of recovery, that self-discipline comes much more easily. I’ve seen what works, and what doesn’t. Today, I make the choice to do what works. I make the choice to practice self-discipline.

Have a remarkable day!

Self-Discipline and Battling My Ego

Yesterday, Fall Retreat was in full swing. The first activity of the day was on the island just across from where I’m sitting this morning, where a zip-line is located. I’ve always enjoyed the thrill of a zip-line.

The only issue is that the land here is pretty flat. Thus, there is not the natural terrain for creating a zip-line that you might find in other places. So, the camp compensates for this by having participants climb sixty feet above ground on large utility poles that support a platform from which four people can zip at once.

Though I made it up the pole, my body was very tired by the time I was on that platform. So tired, in fact, that when it was time to swim later in the day, I found something as easy as swimming challenging. That was when Amanda suggested I get some rest.

I didn’t want to rest. I wanted to keep going. Partially because I did not want to leave the other dad in our cabin responsible alone for the boys under our supervision, and partially because I wanted to prove that I could keep up with the rest of our group. You know… the group that is, on average, 45 years younger than me! Thus, Amanda’s suggestion became a battle between my body and my ego.

Perhaps more accurately, it was a decision between common sense and my ego. Whatever the case, I soon found myself on this deck overlooking the lake. I had made a place to lay down, giving my body, and perhaps more importantly, my back a place to rest.

What began as simple meditation ended in a nice long nap.

Yesterday’s experience helped me to realize that I have made some progress in my recovery. Having the self-discipline to rest when I need to is a pretty big deal. I’m finding that anytime I let common sense prevail in my decision-making, it’s a little victory for my recovery.

I’m grateful for the self-discipline I continue to learn and practice. Because of it, I can enjoy a full life without pushing myself to the breaking point. It is also helping me to realize that sometimes, the most disciplined thing I can do is to rest.

Have a remarkable day!