Surrender Isn't Such a Bad Word

When I first got sober, I often heard people talk about the benefits of "surrender." Surrendering to the disease. Surrendering to the program. Surrendering to the will of God. Surrendering to the direction of a sponsor.

To be perfectly honest, I hated the word itself. Surrender was a word I heard a lot when I was growing up in the South. It was used in connection with a certain brand of Christianity which encouraged people to "surrender to the Lord" and to demonstrate that by walking up to the front of the church for some nice "laying on of hands" by a minister so that the Spirit of God could then enter and take charge of this new convert. Scared the life out of me.

So when I heard this word in the context of AA recovery, I recoiled as though from a hot flame! I came up with a long list of alternative preferable words that I could use to signify the same concept, but without using the word "surrender": giving up, letting go, stop fighting, etc. But never the word "surrender"!

Until one day when I was at a meeting and the person telling their story was one who shared my strong dislike of what he considered to be the "religiosity" of all the surrender talk in AA. He went on at some length about his dislike of the word and while you might have thought that would have made me close friends with the guy, I didn't. You see, I'm a contrarian. I have to disagree with everything. Ask anyone who knows me well, my wife in particular. The more he talked about his dislike of the word "surrender" the more I began to think of ways in which this word was a good one, if not an essential part of any one's "kit of spiritual tools!"

As I was doing that mental rebuttal, I remembered someone saying that "surrender is simply giving up a battle that can't be won." I then realized how appropriate this word was to my own miracle moment when I awoke from my last drink: for it was that morning that I surrendered in my hopeless battle "not to be an alcoholic". That was the battle that I began from my very first drink: I knew even then that my father was an alcoholic and that this disease was supposedly genetic in nature. I drank anyway because I thought that alcoholism was a "choice" and I was going to drink and "choose" not to become an alcoholic. I was going to drink "like" a non-alcoholic! The silliness of this strategy has me rolling on the floor laughing my ass off (ROTFLMAO) now, but it was a serious and strongly held strategy way back then and for the next thirty years.

So I did surrender on the morning of October 20, 2001: I gave up the battle of trying to drink like a non-alcoholic. I gave up the battle of trying not to be who I was: an alcoholic. I surrendered. Strangely enough, the obsession to drink left me that morning and hasn't returned since. I think that's a blessing without question, but I think it's also a direct result of what happened when I finally surrendered. You see, it takes a huge amount of effort and willpower to try and be someone you're not.

The effort required by this program of recovery is real and substantial, but it's simply nothing compared to the doomed and "negative" efforts used by me when I was trying to be someone I wasn't. The effort in my recovery has been directed more positively at staying sober, learning new ways to live life, new attitudes, new habits, new practices, new ideas. It's not a battle to be me.

I still don't agree with those who use this word to characterize their relationships to God, to their sponsors, to the program, etc. But that's ok. If the word doesn't work for me, I don't use it! Guess I'm surrendering to yet another battle: the battle to make everyone else just like Mike! Ahhhh. This is much easier!

Take care!

Mike L.