I’m writing this two days after what was a particularly tough weekend. It wasn’t difficult in the way you might expect for someone in recovery—there weren’t any thoughts of drinking. But there were moments when I wanted to run away and hide, so I wouldn’t have to face how I was feeling.
I’ve reached a point in my sobriety journey where my new routine has really settled in. What was once a struggle has now become a natural part of my daily life. Because of that, my loved ones are starting to see a “new and improved” version of me. However, this weekend, that perception led to a comment from my ever-patient wife: “You’re neglecting me and the family. You spend too much time with this AA stuff.”
At first, I felt angry, hurt, and frustrated. After all, it’s because of this “AA stuff” that I was even present with my family that weekend, instead of sneaking off to drink in secret. As my wife grew more upset, my frustration only intensified. In the past, this would’ve been the point where I’d throw my hands up and think, “What’s the point?”—and then disappear.
One of the habits I’ve built into my new routine is to regularly reflect on my actions, not just at the end of the day, but throughout it. On Sunday night, I sat down and thought about what my wife had said, trying hard to see things from her perspective. The next morning, my mind felt clearer, like the weight of those negative emotions had lifted. That’s when I started noticing the word “acceptance” everywhere. By 10 a.m., I’d read or heard the word about 15 times, and it got me thinking deeply about what acceptance really means for me.
After a lot of reflection, I realised how much I’ve already accepted. I’ve accepted that I can’t control my drinking and that alcohol had been running my life. I’ve accepted that I’m an alcoholic and that I had to fully surrender and ask for help. I accepted AA and its guidance without judgement from the very first meeting. I’ve embraced the suggestions from the Big Book, my sponsor, and the programme itself. I’ve found my Higher Power, my God, and accepted that they’ve got my back. But I hadn’t yet accepted one crucial thing: it’s not all about me.
While my recovery is one of the most important aspects of my life, it’s not the most important thing. The most important thing is being there for my wife and family—the ones who stood by me when I was at my worst, who didn’t run or give up on me. My top priority is to be a good husband and father. That means continuing with the AA programme but making sure it’s a part of my life, not the whole of it.
I see now how easy it can be to become so focused on recovery that it begins to eclipse other parts of life. The programme is vital, yes, but balance is too. My wife’s words weren’t a criticism of the programme, but rather a reminder that while I’m building a new life, I can’t neglect the people who have always been there. Recovery isn’t just about sobriety—it’s also about learning how to be fully present for the people who matter. That moment of acceptance has been a turning point for me, a reminder that the journey is not a solo one. I am not alone in this, and my loved ones deserve the best of me, not just the version that’s working on staying sober.
A New Perspective
Two days since the storm that raged within,
A weekend's tempest, turbulent and deep.
No craving's fire, no thoughts of drink to sin,
Yet hiding's impulse, where my sorrows creep.
A settled routine, a newfound peace,
A "new and improved" me, they say they see.
Yet words that sting, a wound that won't release,
"You neglect us, lost in AA," she'd decree.
A spark of anger, hurt, and deep frustration,
A familiar pattern, a destructive flight.
But now, reflection, a new conversation,
A clearer mind, a shift towards the light.
Acceptance, a word that echoes near,
A concept pondered, a truth unveiled.
I've accepted much, dispelled my fear,
Yet one key truth, its meaning concealed.
My journey's focus, a vital part,
But not the only, the most important thing.
A wife and family, a loving heart,
Their support, their presence, they bring.
A balance sought, a lesson learned,
Recovery's not just about staying clean.
It's being present, for love returned,
A journey shared, a united scene.
