Lately I’ve been thinking back to when I first worked through Steps Four, Five, Six and Seven with my sponsor. At the time, I couldn’t really see how wrapped up in myself I was, or how much I ticked other people off. My life was a constant clash of selfishness, pride, and resentment, and alcohol gave me the illusion that none of it mattered. When I was drinking, I didn’t care who I hurt or how I came across. My character defects were running the show, and I was blind to it.
The strange thing was that I did care – just not when I was drunk. The caring came in the mornings, in that grim period after passing out the night before, when my head was a little clearer. That’s when the self-pity, shame, remorse, and fear would rush in. The inner dialogue was vicious and punishing. I couldn’t escape the thought that I was a failure, unworthy, and incapable of change. And because those feelings were unbearable, I’d reach for the only solution I knew: that first drink of the day. One drink would open the door to oblivion again, and the cycle restarted.
Today, with some sobriety under my belt, I can see that those character defects were not just background noise – they were fuelling my alcoholism. Pride, fear, jealousy, dishonesty, resentment – they kept me trapped in a world where alcohol looked like the only answer. When I drank, the defects grew stronger. When I tried to stop, the defects screamed louder. I was stuck in a self-made prison with alcohol as both the key and the lock.
But then AA offered me a different way. Through the guidance of my sponsor and the fellowship of my brothers and sisters in recovery, I was shown a solution I could never have found on my own. Today, when a defect rises up in me, I have tools. I can pause. I can ask God to remove it. And if I’ve hurt or upset someone, I can make it right. This keeps me from sliding back into the shame and fear that once drove me to drink.
And perhaps the greatest gift is that I don’t do this alone. My friends in AA are also keeping an eye on themselves, practising the same programme. That means they can spot when I’m slipping, and they tell me honestly and with care. It’s not judgement, but love. This fellowship, this shared responsibility, is something alcohol could never give me. Where once my character defects chained me to the bottle, today they remind me to stay humble, to lean on God, and to keep walking with others – one day at a time.
The Way From Defects
I once thought,
my life was only mine,
and so I lived against others,
clashing,
resenting,
burning with pride.
Drink was the mask,
softening the edges of guilt,
until morning came,
and the mask slipped.
Then shame spoke,
remorse tore at me,
fear chained me,
and I longed for escape.
So I poured another cup of forgetfulness.
The prison was mine:
I was both the captive,
and the jailer.
Alcohol was the key
and the lock.
Yet a door was shown to me.
A quiet voice of fellowship,
a hand from my sponsor,
steps laid out before me.
Not steps of pride,
but of surrender.
When defects rise,
I need not obey them.
I pause.
I ask.
I let them pass.
And when I have wounded another,
I bow low,
and make it right.
Now the chains remind me,
not of failure,
but of humility.
Not of despair,
but of my God who lifts the burden.
I do not walk alone.
My brothers, my sisters,
walk with me.
They see when I stumble,
and they call me back,
with truth and with love.
This is the Way:
to live in honesty,
to lean upon God,
to move with others,
one day,
one step,
at a time.
