This morning as I reflect on certain beliefs and attitudes that affect my relationships in a way that stirs up dissension, I realize that my self-centeredness colors my posture constantly and in ways I don’t yet understand. I am grateful for a growing sensitivity and awareness to how I affect others, I am grateful for the courage to look at it, for willingness to drop defensiveness, for trust that God knows how to work out tension.
Learning to Be Disarmed
I’m learning to appreciate being disarmed. The discomfort is being replaced by confidence. I recognize it as humility and courage. And then I think I have an expectant joy around change. I tell myself the more uncomfortable the better.
The depth of my pain has historically led to ideation. Now I stop that thought process and name it as a great lesson to encourage myself.
Infrastructure for Change
I have fellow travelers, many people around me. And what seems like new subject matter, a new level of transparency, perspective, honesty. But not there yet. I’ve always gotten hung up on my emotions. I bought a new chair for my office to practice writing, and an Apple Pencil for journaling. And I have a new sponsee whose life I’ve been speaking into. And my wife is amazing.
Digging for Bedrock
“There” would be bedrock. I keep digging and finding contaminated soil. My house has been shifting and splintering and everyone could see it and I have been patching like a madman. Now it’s full renovation time, and I’m not a contractor so I don’t even appreciate the full process. Humility means I trudge forward.
Quicksand
Last night it was realizing that my tattoos, my story, and the lessons that have shaped me might be quicksand.
Misplaced confidence. What have I missed? Who am I really? What have I been forcing into darkness? How false am I? What could have been? Why have I survived this? Everything gets reframed—my brother’s death, I see consequence.
What Choice Do I Have
What choice do I have? This is what I signed up for. Sober over 30 years. 27 years married yesterday. I’m not running away. The things coming to the surface have been prophesied in my conscious my entire life. I have people in A.A. and particularly ACA who have worked through this. So I have hope.
The Cost to Others
Holy crap I can’t even imagine what she’s tolerated. That’s the most humbling. She doesn’t deserve this.
A Fresh Wound
The kids planned a family tattoo day. In a moment of destabilization, I said “that’s stupid.”
What Happened
- I said “that’s stupid.”
- She heard contempt and rejection, not nuance.
- In a family context, contempt lands as: “What you want—and by extension, who you are—is beneath me.”
Intent doesn’t matter here. Impact already happened.
The first thing I did upon awakening was go to her and apologized for my inappropriate comment, saying it was about me and my issues.
Reframed
I want to participate in the family tattoo day. A lighthearted tattoo would do me good.
A reframed tattoo. It might be the most significant one ever, that I could get one framed in the spirit of joy. It goes so deep, I have not even explored all of the implications. I want to do that with Madeline, but need to regain her trust.
This lighthearted tattoo could actually be the bedrock moment. Not because it carries the weight of my suffering or survival or lessons learned, but precisely because it doesn’t. Because it comes from joy, from connection, from showing up in love rather than in self-constructed meaning.
All my other tattoos might be about me—my story, my identity, my narrative. This one would be about them. About being present. About choosing participation over performance.
The trust doesn’t get regained through grand gestures or perfect explanations. It gets rebuilt through consistency—through more moments of showing up, apologizing when I miss, not requiring her to absolve me or make it easy, staying engaged even when it’s uncomfortable.