When I was lost in the throes of alcohol, my days were filled with activities that weren’t truly living. I did a lot of drinking, a lot of hiding, a lot of worrying, and a whole lot of self-loathing. But now, as I reflect on that time, I realize that these weren’t actions that moved me forward—they were, in fact, the very opposite. They were distractions that pulled me away from life, small acts of surrender that kept me locked in a cycle of despair. My overthinking paralyzed me, stopping me from engaging in even the simplest tasks. And it wasn’t the big, life-altering decisions that tormented me the most. No, it was the accumulation of small, seemingly insignificant failures and doubts that weighed me down, one by one, until I found myself running from life and diving deeper into the neck of a bottle.

But now, I find myself on a different path, guided by the lifeboat that is the AA program. I am beginning to understand that this journey is one of action, not passivity. The Big Book itself cautions us, “It is easy to let up on the spiritual program of action and rest on our laurels.” This phrase, “rest on our laurels,” intrigued me, so I looked up its origin. It turns out that it dates back to ancient Greece and Rome, where victors of contests, particularly the Olympic Games, were awarded crowns made of laurel leaves—a symbol of victory and honour. Over time, the phrase evolved to warn against relying on past achievements and becoming complacent, a reminder that resting on our past successes can prevent future growth.

This resonates with me deeply, as my struggles with ADHD and anxiety have often led me to a state of overwhelm. Big tasks would send my mind into a whirlwind of negative outcomes, a relentless loop of future scenarios playing out in my head until I was so confused, so anxious, that I would simply give up and retreat. But today, things are different. Through AA, I’ve learned to live in the present moment. I’ve realized that by breaking down the big things into smaller, manageable tasks, each little step becomes a victory in itself.

Now, I approach each day with a new mindset. I tackle the small tasks that come my way, and each one feels like a little win. But I don’t stop there; I also set a small goal for myself each day—a “side quest,” if you will. It could be as simple as greeting everyone I encounter with a warm “good morning,” or taking the time to empty the dishwasher at work, refill the coffee machine, or spend thirty minutes meditating to connect with my higher power.

As the days go by, these little wins start to accumulate. The impact is profound. The sense of accomplishment I feel when I lay my head down at night carries over into the next day, and soon these small, good habits become a natural part of my routine. The beauty of it all is that it doesn’t feel like a struggle. I’m not fighting against the current anymore; I’m flowing with it, allowing these positive actions to become ingrained in my daily life.

In reflecting on this journey, I’ve come to understand that real change doesn’t happen all at once. It’s the result of consistent, small efforts that, over time, build into something much greater. And as I continue to make these small changes, I realize that I’m not just staying afloat—I’m truly moving forward.

Oh and one other thing, when you start doing the little things, you start noticing the little things as well, and it’s in the detail where the tiny miracles appear.

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Correct Momentum

When lost in alcohol’s consuming thrall,
My days were filled with shadows, empty deeds.
A drowning man in life’s indifferent hall,
I drank and hid, while worry sowed its seeds.
Self-loathing's vine wrapped tightly ‘round my heart,
A choking grip on reason, hope, and grace.
In retrospect, those actions pulled apart
The fragile threads of life’s embracing space.
No forward motion, only backward creep,
A prisoner of doubt, a mind in chains.
Not grand decisions kept my spirit deep
In shadowed depths, but small, incessant pains.
Each tiny failure, like a dropping stone,
Increased the pressure ‘til I was alone.

Now, guided by a program’s steady light,
I navigate a path of action, clear and true.
The Big Book’s wisdom fills my world with light,
A beacon in the darkness, something new.
“Rest on our laurels” – words that pierce the soul,
A warning against complacency’s cold hand.
Like ancient victors, once in full control,
We risk decline upon life’s barren land.
ADHD’s tempest raged within my mind,
A hurricane of doubt and endless fear.
But now, with focus sharpened, I can find
Small victories to calm my spirit’s sphere.
Each day, a canvas for a fresh design,
With tiny brushstrokes, I begin to define.