Self-centeredness can be the most baffling of character defects
The pain and misery and horrible loneliness I experienced prior to my first meeting, sixteen years ago, finally convinced me of the need to honestly look at my drinking. But that battle and every one since has been hard-fought. At times it seems to take a great deal of suffering for me before I’ll even acknowledge the existence of those defects of character I’m still fond of, and even more before I’ll consider giving them up.
Looking back, it becomes clear to me that ego, before and since I gave up the bottle, has been the chief architect of my problems in life. Though I’ve not often thought of myself as an egotist (what egotist ever really does?), I begin to see the many small but dangerous ways my ego has conspired against me, and does to this day. It has every bit the power to alter my perceptions of reality that alcohol ever did–and ultimately is just as deadly, perhaps more so.
I’ve come to believe that even during times I think I’m trying to give God and AA a fair trial, ego truly warps my thinking and makes me only appear to be open-minded; I might search for answers, but I often go for those that bolster my own arguments, and avoid those that argue against my views, or, I search for ways to weaken those arguments.
That’s why the ability to think a great deal (what I always thought of as “intelligence”), with no real humility, seems to be more a liability than an asset: A “smart” person has more bricks in his arguments, and can therefore more readily build the wall between himself and God.
My sponsor once told me that no one is too stupid for AA–but we bury the smart ones all the time. I finally begin to see what he meant.
After all, no matter how “smart” I may think I am, the reality is that the selfish side of my nature, the ego, is far smarter still, not to mention devious, dishonest, and very patient and enduring in its battle to survive. As evidence, how readily do I believe my own weak reasoning when the thing I want to do wins out in favor of the thing I ought to do?
How many times have I rehearsed an argument–I call it a “discussion”–with someone before he is in the room? I’ve done this with sponsors, AA peers, and others I have gone to as spiritual mentors–yet the moment I ask for their help, my ego does everything it can to avoid it, giving me the “freedom” to decide–knowing that if I discussed it fully, leaving nothing out, the right decision would probably reveal itself to be other than what I want?
And even knowing from experience that doing what I want eventually leads me to misery, while making the sacrifice and giving up that cherished plan eventually leads to greater joy, how many times do I still lose the argument with myself?
I’ve given plenty of lip service to the destructive power of ego over the years, but rarely truly examined it to understand even a portion of the full implications of that concept. It’s the real secret, I believe, to the reason for hitting bottom, and the real gift behind the “gift of desperation”–the momentary reduction of ego enough to finally view a glimpse of reality, and allow for the smallest portion of surrender to happen.
May I remain ever teachable, never “cured.”