Yesterday, at the Texas State AA Convention, I heard Andy D. from Edmond, Oklahoma, describe himself during active alcoholism as a “big shot in the homeless shelter.”
The phrase stayed with me.
I have never lived in a homeless shelter, so I will not pretend to understand that experience. But I know exactly what it is like to be detached from reality while remaining completely convinced of my own importance.
That may be one of the strangest features of alcoholic insanity: my circumstances could deteriorate while my opinion of myself remained remarkably intact. I could be losing trust, wasting opportunities, hurting people, and living far beneath my own values, yet still believe I knew more than everyone around me.
My life could be falling apart, but in my mind, I was still the smartest person in the room.
A big shot in the homeless shelter.
When Ego Replaces Reality
The insanity was not simply that I drank too much. Let’s just be clear, alcohol distorted my relationship with reality.
I could see the consequences without recognizing the cause. I could make the same decisions repeatedly and remain surprised by the results. I could blame people, responsibilities, expectations, and bad luck while protecting the one thing that could never be questioned: me.
My ego did not require evidence. It supplied its own.
When reality threatened to expose me, I compared myself to someone worse. When another person confronted me, I dismissed that person as judgmental or uninformed. When I failed, I revised the story. When I succeeded, even briefly, I treated it as proof that I had been right all along.
I did not need my life to be good. I only needed a way to explain why its condition was not my fault. I’m so grateful that my former grand-sponsor, Johnnie H. used to tell us, “Your life is your fault. Your recovery is your responsibility.”
There was no humility in that life. There was also no meaningful room for God. I may have claimed to believe in God, appealed to Him during emergencies, or asked Him to remove the consequences of my decisions. But I was not interested in direction. I wanted assistance.
God could be my consultant, but I intended to remain the director.
Humility Is an Honest Appraisal
In Step Five, the Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions describes humility as:
“A clear recognition of what and who we really are, followed by a sincere attempt to become what we could be.”
Alcoholism offered me the exact opposite.
It gave me a distorted recognition of who I was, followed by repeated attempts to preserve that distortion. I wanted relief without surrender, forgiveness without honesty, and a different life without becoming a different man.
Recovery began when reality finally became more persuasive than my explanations. Humility did not mean deciding that I was worthless. It meant becoming willing to see myself accurately. I had strengths, but I also had defects. I had been hurt, but I had also hurt others. I was not beyond hope, but I was beyond the reach of my own unaided willpower.
I was not the worst person in the world. I was also not the exception to every spiritual principle. That recognition created room for God. When I stopped spending all my energy defending the person I imagined myself to be, I could finally ask God to help me become the person I was capable of being.
Grandiosity Can Survive Sobriety
The phrase “big shot in the homeless shelter” is not meaningful because a person in a shelter is somehow less important or less worthy. Human dignity does not depend on an address, a bank account, or social status.
The absurdity lies in the ego’s ability to remain grandiose while the evidence of powerlessness surrounds it.
That condition does not disappear automatically when the drinking stops.
I can still become a big shot in sobriety. I can become a big shot in an AA meeting, convinced that my experience is the experience. I can become a big shot in my family, keeping score and demanding recognition. I can become a big shot at work, at church, online, or alone with my resentments.
I can collect sober time, learn the language of recovery, and still use it to elevate myself above other people. I can be sitting in the middle of a life built by grace and quietly begin taking credit for the construction.
That is why humility cannot be a lesson I graduate from. It must remain a daily relationship with the truth.
The Practices That Bring Me Back
The program continues to return me to reality through inventory, confession, amends, prayer, service, sponsorship, and fellowship.
Other people help me see what I cannot see alone. The Steps interrupt the stories I tell to protect myself. God reminds me that I am neither the center of the universe nor abandoned somewhere outside it.
I am simply one person… flawed, loved, responsible, dependent on grace, and capable of growth.
Humility does not ask me to become nobody. It asks me to stop pretending to be somebody I am not.
It allows me to stand honestly in the life I have, accept help, and make a sincere attempt to become what I could be. That is a far better life than ruling over the ruins of my own imagination.
A Practical Humility Inventory
The phrase “big shot in the homeless shelter” now gives me a simple way to examine my spiritual condition. When I sense resentment, defensiveness, superiority, or the need to control, I can pause and ask:
- Where am I resisting reality? What facts am I minimizing, explaining away, or refusing to accept?
- What am I trying to protect? Am I defending a principle, or am I protecting my pride, comfort, reputation, or control?
- Whose perspective do I need? Have I discussed the situation honestly with my sponsor, another trusted person, or someone directly affected by my behavior?
- Where is God in my decision? Am I seeking direction, or merely asking God to endorse the outcome I already want?
- What is one humble action I can take today? I can admit that I was wrong, make an amends, ask for help, listen without defending myself, or quietly serve someone without seeking recognition.
RESOURCE: 7th Step Exercise
The goal is not to think less of myself. It is to see myself more clearly.
Today, I can step down from the imaginary throne, acknowledge my actual condition, and become willing to grow. I can trade grandiosity for gratitude, control for guidance, and isolation for connection.
That is where humility begins and where sanity has a chance to return.
Note – This article appears in the blog for Rick W’s excellent website ‘Take the 12’. Rick W has over 38 years of sobriety and offers excellent free resources including his outstanding book ‘The Prep Steps: Setting Up Action In A.A’ – Bruce M.