Life, in many ways, is like a computer game. Each level presents new challenges, and as I progress, my Higher Power ensures that the next stage is just a little harder, pushing me to grow, to adapt, to level up. At the end of each level, the boss fight looms—bigger, tougher, more complex—but the rewards for victory grow richer too. The game never truly gets easier, but I become more skilled, more prepared, more capable of facing the obstacles ahead.
This morning, during a share, someone made an analogy between life, recovery, and playing a computer game. That comparison lit up my mind in a way that only a fellow gaming geek could truly appreciate. Gaming has always been a part of me—an alternate reality where I could escape, immerse myself in a world of pixels, storylines, and challenges. In many ways, it was another way to avoid dealing with real life. But after hearing that share, I began to view my own experience through a different lens.
I thought back to an old game I used to play, back in the days when loading from a cassette tape required patience. In this game, if I lost all my lives at any point in a level—even if I was on the brink of victory—I’d be thrown right back to the beginning. It was maddening. More than one controller met an untimely demise due to my frustration. But despite the setbacks, I never truly gave up. No matter how many times I failed, I always pressed start again. I’d take a break, breathe, reflect, and then dive back in, armed with the lessons of my previous attempts. I remembered where I went wrong, where I hesitated, where I fell. And each time, my primary goal was to get a little further, to avoid the same pitfalls, to eventually face that boss again—and this time, win.
Now, looking at my life and my recovery, I realise I’ve been doing the same thing all along. Yesterday was another level in my 24-hour game. It started well, running smoothly, a sense of balance and control. But as the day progressed, the difficulty scaled up. Small obstacles appeared—temptations, frustrations, little triggers that could have tripped me up. I remained vigilant. With honesty, openness, and the tools of the program, I navigated those minor challenges, clearing them like small enemies in the game. But then, out of nowhere, a bigger adversary emerged—a test of my resolve, a moment that could have sent me spiraling, wiped out all my lives.
In that moment, I reached for my special move—my Higher Power, the wisdom of AA, the guidance of the steps. I activated my support system, called upon the lessons I’d learned. And just like that, the enemy was subdued. The moment passed, but instead of throwing down my controller in frustration, I paused. I took stock. I prayed—not just for myself, but for the challenge itself, for the lesson hidden within it. And in that moment of clarity, I saw the purpose behind the struggle.
When I continued on with my day, it was with a renewed sense of purpose. It felt as though I had collected all the bonuses along the way—gratitude, growth, resilience. The big boss of the day had been faced and conquered. Not permanently, of course. The battle with my alcoholic mind is ongoing. But today, I won. And that is all that matters.
Tomorrow, a new level begins. The challenges may be greater, the enemies more cunning, the final boss even stronger. But so will I be. With every reset, every lesson learned, every moment of surrender to my Higher Power, I become a better player in this game of life and recovery. And that is the ultimate reward.
The Way of the Pixel 🕹️
The screen flickers, life's code,
a game of levels, ever flowing.
Not easier, but deeper.
Pixels dance, a world built,
avoidance once, now a mirror.
Cassette tapes hum, patience learned.
Loss, a reset, the start anew,
not defeat, but the path revealed.
Controllers break, spirits mend.
Yesterday's level, smooth then rough,
temptations, triggers, small foes arise.
Vigilance calls, honesty blooms.
A boss appears, resolve tested,
the special move, a higher reach,
support systems, ancient wisdom.
The enemy fades, not vanquished,
but understood, a lesson held.
Prayer whispers, gratitude flows.
Bonuses gained, resilience forged,
the day's boss falls, a victory won.
Not forever, but for now.
Tomorrow's screen, a new challenge,
stronger foes, cunning traps laid.
But the player grows, with each reset.
The game of life, recovery's quest,
not to win, but to understand.
Pixels and progress, one and the same.
The Tao whispers, in code and light,
the path unfolds, with every play.
The ultimate reward, the journey itself.
