I Drew the Amends List on a Bar Napkin and Called It Medical Research 🤣

Step 7. Humbly ask him to remove our shortcomings. Since this step so specifically concerns itself with humility, we should pause here to consider what humility is and what the practice of it can mean to us. Indeed, the attainment of greater humility is the foundation principle of each of A.A.'s twelve steps. For without some degree of humility, no alcoholic can stay sober at all. Nearly all A.A.'s have found, too, that unless they develop much more of this precious quality than may be required just for sobriety, they still haven't much chance of becoming truly happy. Without it, they cannot live to much useful purpose or, in adversity, be able to summon the faith that can meet any emergency. Humility, as a word and as an ideal, has a very bad time of it in our world. Not only is the idea misinterpreted, the word itself is often intensely disliked. Many people have an even a nodding acquaintance with humility as a way of life. Much of the everyday talk we hear and a great deal of what we read highlights man's pride in his own achievements. With great intelligence, men of science have been forcing nature to disclose her secrets. The immense resources now being harnessed promise such a quantity of material blessings that many have come to believe that a man-made millennium lies just ahead. Poverty will disappear, and there will be such abundance that everybody can have all the security and personal satisfactions he desires. The theory seems to be that once everybody's primary instincts are satisfied, there won't be much left to quarrel about. The world will then turn happy and be free to concentrate on culture and character. Solely by their own intelligence and labor, men will have shaped their own future. The world will then turn happy and be free to concentrate on culture and character. Solely by their own intelligence and labor, men will have shaped their own future. Solely by their own intelligence and labor, certainly no alcoholic and surely no member of AA wants to deprecate material achievement. Nor do we enter into debate with the many who still so passionately cling to the belief that to satisfy our basic natural desires is the main object of life. But we are sure that no class of people in the world ever made a worse mess of trying to live by this formula than alcoholics. For thousands of years, we've been demanding more than our share of security, prestige, and romance. When we seemed to be succeeding, we drank to dream still greater dreams. When we were frustrated, even in part, we drank for oblivion. Never was there enough of what we thought we wanted. In all these strivings, so many of them well-intentioned, our crippling handicap had been our lack of humility. We had lacked the perspective to see that character, character-building, and spiritual values had to come first, and that material satisfactions were not the purpose of living. Quite characteristically, we had gone all out in confusing the ends with the means. Instead of regarding the satisfaction of our material desires as the means by which we could live and function as human beings, we had taken these satisfactions to be the final end and aim of life. True, most of us thought good character was desirable, but obviously good character was something one needed to get on with the business of being self-satisfied. With a proper display of honesty and morality, we'd stand a better chance of getting what we really wanted. But whenever we had to choose between character and comfort, the character-building was lost in the dust of our chase after what we thought was happiness. Seldom did we look at character-building as something desirable in itself, something we would like to strive for, whether our instinctual needs were met or not. We never thought of making honesty, tolerance, and true love of man and God the daily basis of living. This lack of anchorage to any permanent values, this blindness to the true purpose of our lives, produced another bad result. For just so long as we were convinced that we could live exclusively by our own individual strength and intelligence, for just that long was a working phase in a higher power impossible. This was true even when we believed that God existed. We could actually have earnest religious beliefs which remained barren because we were still trying to play God ourselves. As long as we play self-reliance first, a genuine reliance upon a higher power was out of the question. That basic ingredient of all humility, a desire to seek and do God's will, was missing. For us, the process of gaining a new perspective was unbelievably painful. It was only by repeated humiliations that we were forced to learn something about humility. It was only at the end of a long road marked by successive defeats and humiliations and the final crushing of our self-sufficiency that we began to feel humility as something more than a condition of groveling despair. Every newcomer in Alcoholics Anonymous is told that they are not alone. They are not alone. They are not alone. He is told and soon realizes for himself that his humble admission of powerlessness over alcohol is his first step toward liberation from its paralyzing grip. So it is that we first see humility as a necessity. But this is the bearish beginning. To get completely away from our aversion to the idea of being humble, to gain a vision of humility as the avenue to true freedom of the human spirit, to be willing to work for humility, as something to be desired for itself, takes most of us a long, long time. A whole lifetime geared to self-centeredness cannot be set in reverse all at once. Rebellion dogs our every step at first. When we have finally admitted without reservation that we are powerless over alcohol, we are apt to breathe a great sigh of relief saying, well, thank God that's over. I'll never have to go through that again. Then we learn that we are powerless over alcohol. Often to our consternation that this is only the first milestone on the new road we are walking. Still goaded by sheer necessity, we reluctantly come to grips with those serious character flaws that made problem drinkers of us in the first place. Flaws which must be dealt with to prevent a retreat into alcoholism once again. We will want to be rid of some of these defects, but in some instances this will appear to be an impossible job from which we will have to go. And we cling with a passionate persistence to others which are just as disturbing to our equilibrium because we still enjoy them too much. How can we possibly summon the resolution and the willingness to get rid of such overwhelming compulsions and desires? But again, we are driven on by the inescapable conclusion which we draw from AA experience that we surely must try with a will or else fall into a trap. At this stage of our progress we are under heavy pressure and coercion to do the right thing. We are obliged to choose between the pains of trying and the certain penalties of failing to do so. These initial steps along the road are taken grudgingly, yet we do take them. We may still have no very high opinion of humility as a desirable personal virtue, but we do recognize it as a necessary aid to our survival. But when we have taken a square look at some of these defects, have discussed them with another, and have become willing to have them removed, our thinking about humility commences to have a wider meaning. By this time, in all probability, we have gained some measure of release from our more devastating handicaps. We enjoy moments in which there is something like real peace of mind. To those of us who have hitherto known only excitement, depression, or anxiety, in other words, to all of us, this newfound peace is a priceless gift. Something new indeed has been added. Where humility had formerly stood for a forced feeding on humble pie, it now begins to mean the nourishing ingredient which can give us serenity. This improved perception of humility starts another revolutionary change in our outlook. Our eyes begin to open to the immense values which have come straight out of painful ego puncturing. Until now, our lives have been largely devoted to running from pain and problems. We fled from them as from a plague. We never wanted to deal with the fact of suffering. Escape via the bottle was always our solution. Character building through suffering might be all right for saints, but it certainly didn't appeal to us. Then, in AA, we looked and listened. Everywhere we saw failure and misery transformed by humility into priceless joy. Priceless assets. We heard story after story of how humility had brought strength out of weakness. In every case, pain had been the price of admission into a new life. But this admission price had purchased more than we expected. It brought a measure of humility which we soon discovered to be a healer of pain. We began to fear pain less and desire humility more than ever. During this process of learning more about humility, we began to realize that humility, the power of humility, the power of humility, the power of humility, the power of humility, the power of humility, the most profound result of all was the change in our attitude toward God. And this was true whether we had been believers or unbelievers. We began to get over the idea that the higher power was a sort of bush league pinch hitter to be called upon only in an emergency. The notion that we would still live our own lives, God helping a little now and then, began to evaporate. Many of us who had thought ourselves religious awoke to the limitations of this attitude. Refusing to place God first, we had deprived ourselves of his help. But now the words, of myself I am nothing, the Father doeth the works, began to carry bright promise and meaning. We saw we needn't always be bludgeoned and beaten into humility. It could come quite as much from our voluntary reaching for it as it could from unremitting suffering. A great turning point in our lives came when we sought for humility and humility. As something we really wanted rather than as something we must have. It marked the time when we could commence to see the full implication of Step 7. Humbly ask him to remove our shortcomings. As we approach the actual taking of Step 7, it might be well if we AAs inquire once more just what our deeper objectives are. Each of us would like to live at peace with himself and with his fellows. We would like to be assured that the grace of God can do for us what we cannot do for ourselves. We have seen that character defects based upon short-sighted or unworthy desires are the obstacles that block our path toward these objectives. We now clearly see that we have been making unreasonable demands upon ourselves, upon others, and upon God. The chief activator of our defects has been self-centered fear, primarily fear that we would lose something we already possessed, or would fail to get something we demanded. Living upon a basis of unsatisfied demands, we were in a state of continual disturbance and frustration. Therefore, no peace was to be had unless we could find a means of reducing these demands. The difference between a demand and a simple request is plain to anyone. The seventh step is where we make the change in our attitude which permits us, with humility as our guide, to move out from the situation and move out from ourselves toward others and toward God. The whole emphasis of step seven is on humility. It is really saying to us that we now ought to be willing to try humility in seeking the removal of our other shortcomings, just as we did when we admitted that we were powerless over alcohol and came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity. If that degree of humility could enable us to find the grace by which such a deadly, deadly obsession could be banished, then there must be hope of the same result respecting any other problem we could possibly have. Step eight. Made a list of all persons we had harmed and became willing to make amends to them all. Steps eight and nine are concerned with personal relations. First, we take a look backward and try to discover where we have been at fault. Next, we make a vigorous attempt to repair the damage we have done. Third, having thus cleaned away the debris of the past, we consider how with our newfound knowledge of ourselves we may develop the best possible relations with every human being we know. This is a very large order. It is a task which we may perform with increasing skill but never really finish. Learning how to live in the greatest peace, partnership, and brotherhood with all men and women of whatever description is a moving and fascinating experience. Every AA has found that he can make little headway in this new adventure of living until he first backtracks and really makes an accurate and unsparing survey of the human wreckage he has left in his wake. To a degree, he has already done this when taking moral inventory but now the time has come when he ought to redouble his efforts to see how many people he has hurt and in what ways. This reopening of emotional wounds some old, some perhaps forgotten and some still painfully festering will at first look like a purposeless and pointless piece of surgery. But if a willing start is made then the great advantages of doing this will so quickly reveal themselves that the pain will be lessened as one obstacle after another melts away. These obstacles, however, are very real. The first and one of the most difficult has to do with forgiveness. The moment we ponder a twisted or broken relationship with another person our emotions go on the defensive. To escape looking at the wrongs we have done another we resentfully focus on the wrong he has done us. This is especially true if he has, in fact, behaved badly at all. Triumphantly, we seize upon his misbehavior as the perfect excuse for minimizing or forgetting our own. Right here, we need to fetch ourselves up sharply. It doesn't make much sense when a real tosspot calls a kettle black. Let's remember that alcoholics are not the only ones bedeviled by sick emotions. Moreover, it is usually a fact that our behavior when drinking has aggravated the defects of others. We've repeatedly strained the patience of our best friends to a snapping point and have brought out the very worst in those who didn't think much of us to begin with. In many instances, we are really dealing with fellow sociologists and sufferers people whose woes we have increased. If we are now to ask forgiveness for ourselves why shouldn't we start out by forgiving them, one and all? When listening to people we have harmed most of us hit another solid obstacle. We got a pretty severe shock when we realized that we were preparing to make a face-to-face admission of our wretched conduct to those we had hurt. It had been embarrassing enough when in confidence we had admitted these things to God, to ourselves, and to another human being. But the prospect of actually visiting or even writing the people concerned now overwhelmed us, especially when we remembered in what poor favor we'd stood with most of them. There were cases, too, where we had damaged others who were still happily unaware of being hurt. Why, we cried, shouldn't bygones be bygones? Why do we have to think of these people at all? These were some of the ways in which fear conspired with pride to hinder our making a list of all the people we had harmed. Some of us, though, tripped over a very different snag. We clung to the claim that when drinking we never hurt anybody but ourselves. Our families didn't suffer because we always paid the bills and seldom drank at home. Our business associates didn't suffer because we were usually on the job. Our reputations hadn't suffered because we were certain few knew of our drinking. Those who did would sometimes assure us that, after all, a lively bender was only a good man's fault. What real harm, therefore, had we done? No more surely than we could easily mend with a few casual apologies. This attitude, of course, is the end result of purposeful forgetting. It is an attitude which can only be changed by a deep and honest search of our motives and actions. Though, in some cases, we cannot make restitution at all, and, in some cases, action ought to be deferred, we should nevertheless make an accurate and really exhaustive survey of our past life as it has affected other people. In many instances, we shall find that, though the harm done others has not been great, the emotional harm we have done ourselves has. Very deep, sometimes quite forgotten, damaging emotional conflicts persist below the level of consciousness. At the time of these occurrences, they may occur in a way that is not that they actually have given our emotions violent twists which have since discolored our personalities and altered our lives for the worse. While the purpose of making restitution to others is paramount, it is equally necessary that we extricate from an examination of our personal relations every bit of information about ourselves and our fundamental difficulties that we can. Since defective relations with other human beings have nearly always been the immediate cause of our woes, including our alcoholism, no field of investigation could yield more satisfying and valuable rewards than this one. Calm, thoughtful reflection upon personal relations can deepen our insight. We can go far beyond those things which were superficially wrong with us to see those flaws which were basic, flaws which sometimes were responsible for the whole pattern of our lives. Thoroughness, we have found, will pay, and pay handsomely. We might next ask ourselves what we mean when we say that we have harmed other people. What kinds of harm do people do one another anyway? To define the word harm in a practical way, we might call it the result of instincts in collision which cause physical, mental, emotional, or spiritual damage to people. If our tempers are consistently bad, we arouse anger in others. If we lie or cheat, we deprive others not only of their worldly goods, but of their emotional security and peace of mind. We really issue them an invitation to become contemptuous and vengeful. If our sex conduct is selfish, we may excite jealousy, misery, and a strong desire to retaliate in kind. Such gross misbehavior is not by any means a full catalogue of the harms we do. Let us think of some of the subtler ones which can sometimes be quite as damaging. Suppose that in our family lives we happen to be miserly, irresponsible, callous, or cold. Suppose that we are irritable, critical, impatient, and humorless. Suppose we lavish attention upon one member of the family and neglect the others. What happens when we try to dominate the whole family, either by a rule of iron or by a constant outpouring of minute directions for just how their lives should be lived from hour to hour? What happens when we experience depression, self-pity oozing from every pore, and inflict that upon those about us? Such a roster of harms done others, the kind that make daily living with us as practicing alcoholics difficult and often unbearable, could be extended almost indefinitely. When we take such personality traits as these into shop, office, and the society of our fellows, they can do damage almost as extensive as that we have caused at home. Having carefully surveyed this whole area of human relations, and having decided exactly what personality traits in us injured and disturbed others, we can now commence to ransack memory for the people to whom we have given offense. To put a finger on the nearby and most deeply damaged one shouldn't be hard to do. Then, as year by year we walk back through our lives as far as memory will reach, we should be bound to construct a long list of people who have, to some extent or other, been affected. We should, of course, ponder and weigh each instance carefully. We should want to hold ourselves to the course of admitting the things we have done, meanwhile forgiving the wrongs done us, real or fancied. We should avoid extreme judgments, both of ourselves and of others involved. We must not exaggerate our defects or theirs. A quiet, objective view will be our steadfast aim. Whenever our counsel falters, we can fortify and cheer ourselves by remembering what AA experience in this step has meant to others. It is the beginning of the end of isolation from our fellows and from God. Step 9. Made direct amends to such people whenever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others. Good judgment, a careful sense of timing, courage and prudence. These are the qualities we shall need when we take Step 9. After we have made the list of people we have harmed, have reflected carefully upon each instance, and have tried to possess ourselves of the right attitude in which to proceed, we will see that the making of direct amends divides those we should approach into several classes. There will be those who ought to be dealt with just as soon as we become reasonably confident that we can maintain our sobriety. There will be those to whom we can make only partial restitution, lest complete disclosures do them or others more harm than good. There will be other cases where action ought to be deferred, and still others in which by the very nature of the situation we shall never be able to make direct personal contact at all. Most of us begin making certain kinds of direct amends from the day we join Alcoholics Anonymous. The moment we tell our families that we are really going to try the program, the process has begun. In this area, there are seldom any questions of timing or caution. We want to come in the door shouting the good news. After coming from our first meeting, or perhaps after we have finished reading the book Alcoholics Anonymous, we usually want to sit down with some member of the family and readily admit the damage we have done by our drinking. Almost always we want to go further and admit other defects that have made us hard to live with. This will be a very different occasion, and in sharp contrast with those hangover mornings when we alternated between reviling ourselves and blaming the family and everyone else for our troubles. At this first sitting, it is necessary only that we make a general admission of our defects. It may be unwise at this stage to rehash certain harrowing episodes. Good judgment will suggest that we ought to take our time. While we may be quite willing to reveal the very worst, we must be sure to remember that we cannot buy our own peace of mind at the expense of others. Much the same approach will apply at the office or factory. We shall at once think of a few people who know all about our drinking and who have been most affected by it. But even in these cases, we may need to use a little more discretion than we did with the family. We may not want to say anything for several weeks or longer. First, we will wish to be reasonably certain that we are on the AA beam. Then we are ready to go to these people to tell them what AA is and what we are trying to do. Against this background, we can freely admit the damage we have done and make our apologies. We can pay or promise to pay whatever obligations, financial or otherwise, we owe. The generous response of most people to such quiet sincerity will often astonish us. Even our severest and most justified critics will frequently meet us more than halfway on the first trial. This atmosphere of approval and praise is apt to be so exhilarating as to put us off balance by creating an insatiable appetite for more of the same. Or we may be tipped over in the other direction when, in rare cases, we get a cool and skeptical reception. This will tempt us to argue or to press our point insistently, or maybe it will tempt us to discouragement and pessimism. But if we have prepared ourselves well in advance, such reactions will not deflect us from our steady and even purpose. After taking this preliminary trial at making amends, we may enjoy such a sense of relief that we conclude our task is finished. We will want to rest on our laurels. The temptation to skip the more humiliating and dreaded meetings that still remain may be great. We will often manufacture plausible excuses for dodging these issues entirely. Or we may just procrastinate, telling ourselves that time is not yet, when in reality we have already passed up many a fine chance to right a serious wrong. Let's not talk prudence while practicing evasion. As soon as we begin to feel confident in our new way of life and have begun by our behavior and example to convince those about us that we are indeed changing for the better, it is usually safe to talk in complete frankness with those who have been seriously affected, even those who may be only a little or not at all aware of what we have done to them. The only exceptions we will make will be cases where our disclosure would cause actual harm. These conversations can begin in a casual or natural way, but if no such opportunity presents itself, at some point we will want to summon all our courage, head straight for the person concerned, and lay our cards on the table. We needn't wallow in excessive remorse before those we have harmed, but amends at this level should always be forthright and generous. There can only be one consideration which should qualify our desire for a complete disclosure of the damage we have done. That will arise in the occasional situation where to make a full revelation would seriously harm the one to whom we are making amends, or, quite as important, other people. We cannot, for example, unload a detailed account of extramarital adventures upon the shoulders of our unsuspecting wife or husband. And even in those cases where such a matter must be discussed, let's try to avoid harming third parties, whoever they may be. It does not lighten our burden when we recklessly make the crosses of others heavier. Many a razor-edged question can arise in other departments of life where this same principle is involved. Suppose, for instance, that we have drunk up a good chunk of our firm's money whether by borrowing or on a heavily padded expense account. Suppose that this may continue to go undetected if we say nothing. Do we instantly confess our irregularities to the firm in the practical certainty that we will be fired and become unemployable? Are we going to be so rigidly righteous about making amends that we don't care what happens to the family and home? Or do we first consult those who are to be gravely affected? Do we lay the matter before our sponsor or spiritual advisor, earnestly asking God's help and guidance, meanwhile resolving to do the right thing when it becomes clear, cost what it may? Of course, there is no pat answer which can fit all such dilemmas, but all of them do require a complete willingness to make amends as fast and as far as may be possible in a given set of conditions. Above all, we should try to be absolutely sure that we are not delaying because we are afraid. For the readiness to take full consequences of our past acts and to take responsibility for the well-being of others at the same time is the very spirit of Step 9.