Don H. on the Thinking Disease, Step 2, and Early Sobriety

Chapter 10. One Step, Two Step, Time for a New Step For the next couple of weeks, Shimmy did as he was told and attended meetings every day. He would often get pulled into a couple of meetings a day. Of course, he whined and moaned about how all they ever did was sit around swelling coffee and telling more stories. But inside, he felt very differently. When he was with AA people or sitting in a meeting, he knew he was safe. It was the only time he really felt that everything might work out for him. He hated going home. Tommy and Rose were gone, and there was nothing to do there but wallow in self-pity. Willie had told him that the inside of his head was a dark and dangerous place that he should never enter alone. Willie certainly nailed that one. Sitting at home was when the hopelessness set in. AA people were upbeat and full of life. When they were around, he felt okay because he forgot all his own problems. But when he sat in the same chair that he had passed out in night after night for so many years, the world was not such a bright and inspiring place. That was when the committee was in session and his personal demons were fixated on taking him backward, not forward. He began to understand that what he had heard in the meetings was true for him as well. He really didn't drink to feel good. He drank to feel nothing. Now here he was, doing everything in his power not to drink. But the harder he worked to get away from the booze and the drugs, the more pain he felt. He knew he could remove all that pain in an instant at the local pub, but that would just put him back on the hamster wheel. God, how he hated being sober. But so far, he hated the thought of taking a drink more, so that made all the difference. When he was home alone, he was prone to constant morbid reflection upon all that he had lost. When he were walking alone, it took his mind off the worst of it, but his brain still reminded him of the location of every single watering hole in his vicinity. On several occasions, he had snapped out of his internal musings about the sorry state of his life to find himself standing in front of a bar or a liquor store without realizing how he had gotten there. This day, it was a liquor story. He stared at the door and licked his lips. He was one cheap bottle of vodka away from blessed oblivion. He could feel how it was going to go down as he began to lean bodily toward the door to take the next step. He knew he was about to do the one thing he wanted least of all in the whole world to do. Rob was correct. Powerlessness was truly his dilemma, and he had never felt more powerless than in this moment. He desperately wanted to turn and walk away, but he knew that wasn't going to happen this time. He reached into his pockets to figure out how much money he had on him. That is when he felt the chip. It reminded him of what Diesel had told him. There is no situation so bad in life that taking a drink won't make worse. For the first time in his life, he took a moment to reflect not upon all he had to gain from taking a drink, but rather upon all He had to lose. It had only been a couple of weeks, but He already felt as if He had somehow built up some equity in Alcoholics Anonymous. He desperately wanted Rose and Tommy to come home. If He drank now, that wasn't going to happen, but if He walked away, there was still hope. He was too green to realize it, but this was step one in action. You can't stop drinking if you're drinking. Once you put a few days together, obtaining true sobriety is less about changing your drinking than it is about changing you're thinking. What was it Marge had called it? Oh yeah, she said it was a thinking disease. In this moment he was learning a lesson that all the successful people in the program come to understand. Long-term sobriety needs you to change not just your lifestyle, but also your patterns of behavior and most of all your outlook on life. He stiffened his spine, slightly closed his eyes and took a short painful step back from the door. One day at a time, he thought, fuck that. I'm going to have to do this one step at a time. He took another step back, and the feeling passed. He turned briskly to run from the liquor store and bumped headlong into another pedestrian. Hey, the man said. You're the guy they call Shimmy, right? Look, sunshine, Shimmy answered. I'm in kind of a hurry. Sorry if I fucked up your morning stroll, But I'm not in the mood for a lengthy gripe session right now. Move along, citizen. The show's over. Coming from anybody else, this might have seemed like an odd reaction. But Chimmy had a lengthy history of people coming up to him the day after a binge to dress him down for some stupid thing he had done when he was drunk that he didn't remember. Coming off the heels of his close call a moment earlier, he was not looking for a confrontation. The man smiled back at him. Rob told me you were a bit of a prickly pear. Now I get his drift. My name is Gord. I'm a friend of Bill W. At first, Shimmy was a bit stymied. He'd not heard that expression before. Then came the recognition. This guy was in AA. He was at first relieved, then instantly embarrassed. Who the fuck sent you up here to spy on me? How long have you been watching me? It was Rob, wasn't it? That motherfucker. Wait until I see him. Okay, fine. Go back and tattle on me to the judge. You bastards are all in on this. Gord flashed shimmy a look of conspiratorial comprehension. I get it, he said. You're embarrassed because I stumbled on you as you stood outside the liquor store trying to decide if you should go in or not. Nobody is spying on you. I live down the street. I was just coming back from visiting my sister. I'd also like to point out that you bumped into me after you made your decision to walk away without picking up that first drink. There's nothing to report to anyone except that you did the right thing for yourself. But given that no one sent me here to spy on you, this encounter may appear to be a coincidence. It was not. It was God's will. God put me in your path when you needed me most. You're new at this, and this may be the first time you have ever had it explained to you. But one day you will stop calling these chance encounters coincidences and recognize that God is simply doing for you what you could not do for yourself. Shimmy stared at him for a moment without an inkling of comprehension. What the fuck was he talking about? Shimmy didn't say anything at first, because he had learned that AA people love talking in circles around him. The problems started when he asked them to explain themselves. Then they would drone on for hours about how stuff he didn't give a damn to ever know. He figured if he just nodded like he knew what was going on, old Gordo would stuff a sock in it and move along. No such luck. He had provided Gord with an opening to discuss his favorite topic, God. Rather than winding down on it, Gord was just getting warmed up. But Shimmy wasn't interested in a sermon from a sidewalk preacher. He was feeling a bit ambushed by the whole encounter. After a minute or two, he objected. Look, Gord, I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got stuff to do. It was nice meeting you. Maybe I'll see you in a meeting sometime, but I've gotta scoot. He assumed that using the polite approach would work best to brush this guy off. Clearly, he did not know Gord. No problem, Gford responded. I'll walk with you. Where are you going? Of course, Shimmy had no idea where he was going. He had nowhere to go and all day to get there. But he did come up with an answer. I'm going over to Rob's house. He assumed incorrectly that he could scrape Gord off by indicating he was on his way to see somebody else in AA. But Gord was way ahead of him. Hey, I haven't seen Rob in a while. I'll join you. We can talk about the second step along the way. No, really? Shimmy said. I'm sure you've got stuff to do, orphans to take in, meals on wheels, Bibles to bang. Not a problem, my friend. It's my day off and I have nothing else to do. Oh, fuck! Shimmy muttered. What did you say? Asked Gord. I said imagine my luck. Shimmy spent the next ten minutes being quizzed by Gord about his relationship with God. It seemed that Gord wanted to know exactly what raw material he had to work with before he began his conversion speech in earnest. Two questions in with Shimmy, and he knew he had a live one. This was a soul desperately in need of saving. As they walked, Gord preached. So you're a Catholic, you say. Are you a good one? Do you go to church regularly? Do you pray and meditate on a daily basis? Shimmy wanted to lie and say yes to every question in the hope of getting Gord to back off. But he had learned enough about AA people to know one fact. You can't bullshit a bullshitter. Shimmy came clean with Gord. Look, buddy, I don't know that my religion is really any of your business. But I don' t really have a relationship with God, as you put it. God never did anything for me except put the screws to me. So fuck him. Clearly, you're working the first step, said Gord How can you tell? Shimmy inquired. Because you aren't sucking cheap wine out of a paper bag at the moment. When I spotted you, you were standing in front of the liquor store. But you didn't go in. You walked away. I know you were working the first step because you aren'T drinking right now. The first step is the only one that we have to work on 100% of the time. If you start drinking, the whole program goes out the window. But what about the second step? Where are you on that one? Of course, Shimmy knew of the second stop. They had read the twelve steps at every meeting. But working them? Well, that was a new concept for him. I don't know what you're getting at, Shimmie responded. Look, said Gord. A minute ago you said God could screw himself. This already tells me you did not have a working relationship with God. That was why I asked you what you were doing about step two. Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity. I asked because I already knew the answer was nothing. This felt like a trap to Chimmy. This guy was really good at this, and Chimney didn't like the way it was going. It seemed innocent enough, of course, but that was always how it started when some Jesus freak would bang on his door on a Saturday morning looking to see if he was saved. Gord's approach was eerily similar, and it was giving him the yips. The guy seemed calm enough to the untrained eye, but Chimley could feel some tension or maybe excitement radiating off Gord that made him nervous. Fortunately for him, they had arrived at Rob's house. Now he had to hope that Rob was home and willing to let them in. Otherwise, Gord would know he had lied to him just to try and get rid of him. God and I have an understanding, Shimmy shot back. We both mind our own fucking business. He turned on his heel and entered the garden through the newly refurbished gate. Rob was standing in the middle of the garden, much to Shimny's relief. Rob smiled as he saw the two. Howdy, Shimmy. I see you picked up a stray and my gate isn't flying across the yard. This is going to be a good day, I can tell. Shimmy flushed, but he refused to rise to the bait. Come on, boys, said Rob. I have the coffee pot on. He poured three mugs of coffee and inquired politely with a wry smile. So what step are we chatting about, Shimny? Is it two, three, or eleven? At first, Shimpy said nothing. He was wondering how Rob knew. Then he replied, Step two, it seems. Wise choice, said Rob. I'm guessing Gord has already begun delivering the sermon. Gord bristled slightly. He knew exactly what Rob was getting at. Look, he said. Shimmy's been around for a bit and he needs to start working the steps. Have you talked to him about it with him? As usual, Rob had read the room correctly. He figured Shimmy had run to his house to get away from the local bleeding deacon. Okay then, boys, let's take step two. Wait a minute, Shimmy objected. The meeting isn't until tonight. What's this all about? Jesus, he thought. These fuckers never get tired of meetings. I can't have one goddamn day to myself. Gord responded first. Whenever two members get together to talk about their program, it's a meeting. Whenever you go on a 12-step call, it's a meeting. Whenever you call your sponsor on the phone or take a ride with him, it is a meeting." Now is as good a time as any for a meeting, Rob added. If you and I were drinking and I pulled out a bottle of wine for us to share right now, would you object and moan about how you can't drink because it isn't night time? Of course not. Night time, day time, any day of the week that ends in day, It's all the same to us. For that reason, as we have told you before, go to meetings like you used to drink. So yeah, as Gord says, this is now a meeting. There was a large part of Shimmy that wanted to slap the stupid fucking grin off Rob's face. Not surprisingly, Gord immediately started to talk about God. I get it, Shimmy. You are angry with God because you figure he let you down. The fact is, God never left you. you left God. It is time to get back to him. There is a simple truth, if you don't go back to God, you will go back to drinking. If you don' t accept Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Savior, you'll spend the rest of your life lost, bewildered, drunk, and insane. Okay, Gord, Rob interjected. What do you say we save the fire and brimstone for another time? We are trying to explain step two to him. Not all the basic tenets are evangelical Christianity. Gord sat back in recognition that he was moving too fast in Shimmy's conversion, and Shimmy realized that getting Rob involved early had been the right call. Shimmy, the second step is about turning your will over to a higher power of your own understanding. For most of us, that higher power is God. But it doesn't have to be. In Gord's case, he is a born-again Christian. As such, Jesus Christ is the higher power that makes sense to him. He will talk to you in those terms because that is his way of taking the second step. Isn't that right, Gord? Gord was already vibrating in his chair. He was dying to save Shimmy's everlasting soul, but he had been down this road with others in the program. They always got upset with him when he spoke in absolute terms. He's right, Jimmy. You and I do not have to have the same higher power, Rob said. None of us are required in AA to have the same Higher Power. But we'll need to have a specific Higher Power In fact, if you can't initially accept God because of the nature of your current issues with Him, why not start off just accepting the group conscience as a form of a Higher Power? Over time, your concept of a higher power will evolve as you grow in the program. Rob continued, People don't get to AA because their lives are full-on awesome. They get here when the wheels have fallen completely off the wagon. Do you remember in your first meeting with Marge that she told you to go out and drink if you weren't sure you belonged here? Her point was that people don't wind up here when they're at their best. They are typically mentally, spiritually, and emotionally broken upon arrival. Those are the ones who are most likely to follow through on a program that requires such rigorous honesty. In other words, if you haven't hit your bottom yet, you may not be ready for this. Given that the ones whose stay, beyond the point of judicial coercion, that is, are spiritually compromised in almost all cases, they are also most likelyto struggle with the concept of God. This is probably why the second step leads off with the term higher power instead of God Rob gave the idea a moment to penetrate and waited to see if Shimmy had any questions. Then he took a breath to start in again, but Gord beat him to it. There are lots of different kinds of people who enter AA. There are religious people and spiritualists, but there are also agnostics and atheists. What's the difference? Shimmy asked. Good question. The religious people are the churchgoers, of course. the spiritualists believe in a higher power, but they may not be crazy about religion. Personally, I don't get the point, but it's not my place to judge, although clearly he just had. Both groups have some concept of a higher Power in which they believe. But then there are the other two groups. We get a lot of newcomers in those two categories. The most common is probably the agnostics. They are people for whom the jury is still out on God. They will say, you can't prove the existence of God one way or the other. They have no faith and require proof for everything. I don't get it because the proof is all around you. Look at the miracles in which God reveals himself every day and you can help but want to be saved. Uh, Gord, Rob interjected. Let's get back to the basic definition so he can figure out his own starting point, shall we? Gord agreed and pressed on. Then there are the atheists. They are certain that God does not exist. They will even claim they have proof of such. Therefore, the question becomes, how do they work the second step if they claim there is no God? There's a whole chapter in the big book of Alcoholics Anonymous devoted to exactly this topic called We the Agnostics. They're not comfortable with the concept of God. It suggested, I think foolishly, that their higher power could be anything they want. It could be their sponsor or their home group or even an inanimate object. See what I mean? Crazy, right? Robb could feel Gord getting a little too judgy at this point and decided to take over. The take-home point here, he began, is that we're all a mess when we get here and a lot of us place a big chunk of the blame on God. It's a very common theme among newcomers. As such, accepting God can do for us what we could not do for ourselves is an awful lot for many of us to swallow right after being told we are powerless over alcoholism. But you need to understand that since Step 1 is an admission of powerlessness, you will need to gain support from somewhere. Telling you that you are powerlessoveralcohol and then just believing you sit there helpless makes you a sitting duck for relapse. There has to be more, and there is a lot more, but it begins with a small act of faith on your part. Nobody is asking you to just dump whatever belief system you may or may not have with respect to God. At this point, with step two, we're only asking that you open your mind to the possibility that there is power greater than yourself that can restore you to sanity. There was the usual brief pause as Shimmy absorbed this latest dollop of info. You're saying I don't have to get dunked in the River Jordan? Or go prey in a mountain or nothing? I just have to keep an open mind? I guess I can do that. Then I'll be restored to sanity? What the fuck is that all about? Are you calling me crazy? Rob could see that Shimmy was winding himself up for another tirade, tirade, so he tried to head it off before it gathered too much momentum. Rob smiled. We all think the first part of step two is dirt simple and the second part doesn't apply to us. If you're expecting me to stroke the back of your hand, stare you in the eyes and tell you, oh no, you haven't been irrational at all, then I have some swampland in Florida in which you may be interested. Who the fuck are you to call me crazy, you self-righteous prick? Gord said, wait a minute, shimmy. It came out all wrong when Rob said it. This isn't what it sounds like to you. Shut the fuck up, you goddamn Bible-banging, holy water-swelling hippie-ass Jesus freak. Nobody was talking to you." Rob was sitting back with a half-smile enjoying the show he had produced. Rob was a man with significant sobriety, but he still had a bit of a cruel streak when it came to being a button pusher. At some point he would tire of giving Shimmy the gears, but for now he was just an easy target. Shimmy didn't understand it yet, but this was Rob's way of demonstrating the type of insanity that Step 2 is designed to help curtail. Gord the Lord was merely collateral damage in the exchange. After a bit of back and forth, it was clear that Shimmy was going to jump over the table at Gord before he calmed down. Rob decided to intervene, if only to stop Shimmy's record-breaking string of cuss words and indecent suggestions about Gord, his family, and their pets. He tipped over a nearby shovel, leaning against the fence, onto a flagstone, generating a ringing metal clang. This introduced a silent space in the string of invictives during which Rob began to speak. Look at you, Shimmy. You think you have no insanity in your life, but at the mere suggestion of opening your mind up to the possibility that such insanity may exist, you are ready to pummel poor Gord senseless. In so doing, you risk losing your family forever and spending significant amounts of time as a guest of the state. Why do you suppose this little request is such a big threat to you that you are willing to risk all that just to prove it isn't. Somehow, Rob's point kind of made sense. Shimmy didn't know if he should feel angry or elated for the dirt farmer bringing this to his attention. Shimny had a limited range of intellectual tools with which to work. Introspection was not among them. He never stopped to consider his motivation for up to 98% of his egregious behaviors. Somehow Rob had jarred him and forced him to focus not on the object of his scorn, but on the motivation behind his actions. This was new and somewhat disquieting territory for him. The reason he didn't examine his behavior too carefully was because he usually knew he was in the wrong, and quite frankly, self-examination typically led to self-recrimination. For a brief instant, Shimmy was completely honest with himself without even realizing it. Looking down at his feet in embarrassment, he quietly muttered almost to himself, I have no idea. Both of his compatriots breathed a sigh of relief. Somehow they had managed to punch a hole in that obstinate wall of self-delusion which was so typical in newly recovered alcoholics they had finally dragged him kicking and screaming in the direction of honest self-analysis. His admission was a small step but it was a step in the right direction and they were both happy to bear witness to it. Rob dropped a smile and lowered the tone. One of our goals here, Shimmy, is to elevate ourselves honestly and without bias. As drinkers, it's something we were never capable of doing. Believe it or not, when you have to say you have no idea why you pull the crazy stunts you do, that is absolute honesty. Shimmy raised his head and his eyes betrayed a complete lack of comprehension. He didn't know why they were so satisfied that he didn't know what the hell he was doing or why he was doing it shimmy as alcoholics were all capable of the most extreme self-deceit if we didn't lie to ourselves about our antisocial behavior, we would all kill ourselves out of guilt and grief before we made it here. None of us arrives here truly in touch with ourselves on an emotional level. The only way we can live with ourselves is to totally ignore the impact of our selfish addiction on ourselves and our families. The extent to which we will go to maintain some sense of our own self-worth while continuing to engage in such destructive behavior is utterly astounding. I suspect this is the first time you've allowed yourself to dwell constructively on the consequences of your actions without picking up a drink in a very long time. Most of us will pick up a bottle when faced with the reality of who we are and what we have done. We can only stand ourselves in small doses. The rest of the time, we are seekers of oblivion, not to escape our problems but to avoid self-appraisal. This is a big part of the insanity about which we are speaking. Gord cleared his throat. Shimmy, our drinking and using lives are defined by the chaos and insanity we generate. We create a whirlwind of destruction that injures everyone in our paths. Our families, friends, and co-workers first and foremost. The ones we profess to love and cherish above all others are those who pay the highest price for our actions. We have spent years and years establishing patterns of behavior for ourselves and those around us. The problem is that we cannot turn it on and off like a light switch just because we put the plug in the jug. I once sat in a chair in a meeting just like you are now, incredulous that my life was anything less than perfect with the exception of the drinking that I'd recently ceased. I can recall talking to Diesel. He was trying to explain Step 2 to me. All I heard was him saying over and over, You were crazy and you were going to drink again. I know that's not what he was saying at all. It was just what I was hearing. I told him I was an alcoholic and I totally accepted it, But otherwise, I had a great life. I never lost a job due to drinking, and my wife and kids had a comfortable home with a perfect yard and a white picket fence. If it was so idyllic, he asked me, why change anything? So I told him I was tired of sitting in the basement and drinking alone. I wanted to get out and meet new people, make some friends and such. He tried very hard to get me to see the holes in my story. But after about 30 minutes of talking sense to me, I guess he realized I was still impervious to honesty. I was pretty proud of myself as I walked home. I had a three-month chip in my pocket and I felt great. I was going to get home a bit late for dinner because I had stopped to pick up some bread and olive oil. It had also taken some time to convince Diesel that I was doing so well. But no big deal, right? As it turned out, this was the first time I was late getting home for dinner since I had quit drinking. And it was a very big deal, not to me but to my wife and kids. As I approached the back door, I could hear them laughing about something and it made me feel good. But as I walked through the door into the kitchen, everything went silent. All eyes were on me. They weren't just casually looking in my direction. They were inspecting me and observing me the way the dog warden checks out a stray to see if it's sick or rabid before getting too close. Something was wrong. They all knew it, and I didn't. My wife saw the bag with the olive oil in my hands and looked away. My two children stared at me with grave intensity. They were waiting to see which dad had just come through the door. The significance of a bottle in a paper bag was not lost on them either. Was tonight's dad the happy, just started drinking dad with a warm glow or was it the things that had gone badly at work angry dad who had been drinking since lunchtime looking for targets nobody said a word for a very long time in that silent space i realized something about which i had remained completely oblivious for all my years with them they were terrified they were absolutely terrified of what i was about to do. The rest of their night would be defined by my chaotic and unpredictable behavior. This is what it was like every single night for them, for their entire lives, and I had no idea until that very second. My first reaction was overwhelming guilt. I'd done this to them with my drinking. But after just a few cringeworthy moments of self-realization, the stinking thinking took over. It made me mad. I was three whole months sober, and the first time I was even a little bit late for dinner they were assuming that I was drinking again. Who the hell were they to judge me? How could they treat me like this? Didn't they know what I had gone through over the last three months for them, those stinking ungrateful little wretches? Gord took a drink of coffee to let that thought hang in the air between them for a moment. Shimmy was absolutely relating to everything that Gord had said, but not in the way that Gford had thought. Shimmy wasn't flashing back on Gord's experiences. He was relating to the children. The only family life he had ever known was growing up with his drunken asshole father. A part of him understood Gord as a fellow alcoholic, but the rest of him hated Gord for the impact he had on his children. His father was the monster under the bed. Most kids trust their parents and fear the dark. Shemmy's father was his boogeyman, and the dark was a place to escape. But the next thought that entered his head was the memory of the drunken backhander he had flung at Tommy in Robb's front yard that fateful Saturday morning. The punishing truth hid him between the eyes with the force of a claw hammer. He was his dad. The full weight of his impact on Rose and Tommy was now before his eyes. He was their boogeyman. This one thought was so overwhelming that had Gord handed him a gun in that moment, he would have blown his brains out without hesitation. His entire body slumped and his demeanor changed from combative self-righteousness to reserved remorse. He had spent much of his existence standing on his soapbox, screaming for justice, when he should have been on his knees praying for mercy. In this case, he was too guilt-ridden to muster sufficient anger at these two for forcing him to look so closely at his painful, embarrassing past. He just had to accept that they were correct. Gord continued, My first thought was totally predictable, of course. I should run away and find a bottle to hide in. Screw these people and their judging eyes. I was angry and conflicted. Every brain cell was telling me to drink. But as Diesel often told me, my brain is out to get me. I didn't know what to do. Then my youngest came to the rescue. Can I have some bread, Daddy? he asked. I looked at the bread and I looked at the bottle in the bag. And that moment I realized what had escaped me before. They saw the bottle in the back of the bag and assumed I was already drinking. Sure, I had knocked off the sauce for three months. But to be honest, had I seen me walk through the door like that, "'I would have reached the same conclusion they all did. "'I set the bread on the table "'and pulled the olive oil out of the bag. "'The tension in the room broke "'and everyone took a step back from the abyss. "'My wife was wiping tears from her eyes, "'but for the first time in a long time "'they were tears of relief and joy. "'This is my definition of insanity, Shimmy. "'I put them through hell for years "'and they never knew on any given night "'if I was going to surprise them with presents "'or terrorize them in anger. It was the chaos I had caused that made me see the light. That night after they went to bed, I got down on my knees on my front porch and asked God to make me whole again and to restore me to sanity. That was the night I took step two. Shimmy was uncharacteristically quiet. Both Gord and Rob knew what he was going through. Something in Gord's story had hit him between the eyes and he was seeing the truth about himself, perhaps for the first time in his life. It was a lot to swallow. Shimmy looked at Rob. I can't do this anymore. It's too big for me. How can I change just like that? You don't understand. I'm not a good man. Both Rob and Gord smiled knowingly. Shimmy, nobody is asking you to turn your life around and become the hero of the story this minute, Rob said. Sobriety is not a sprint. It's a marathon. God will never give you more on any given day than you can handle. your first experience of deep self-awareness is not going to be painless. You have hurt yourself and a whole lot of other people, but nobody is asking you to fix all that today. There are other steps for that, and we will get to them when the time is right. For right now, we are only discussing step two. All we ask is that you open your mind to the possibility that there is a power greater than yourself, and that power can restore you to sanity. Shimmy looked at them pleading and panicking. But it's so big, and I'm so small. How can I be good again? I can't do it. It's just too much. Gordon responded first. There are two things I want you to know. First, that we are here for you. This may be an inside job, but it will require a lot of outside help. Put your faith in us and in your higher power, and we will all get through this thing together. Second, you keep saying it's too big for you. Do you know how you are going to manage this? The same way you managed to eat an elephant, one bite at a time. Okay, boys, Rob stated as he stood up. I have to get back to it. You can hang around here if you want to, but stay out of my way. I'm a hoeing and weeding machine today, and I don't want any bloodshed if you get caught in the crossfire. He picked up his hoe and went to work. Both Gord and Shimmy took that as their cue and skedaddled out the front gate. Gord headed home and Shimny continued his stroll, headed for anywhere but home.