Posts Tagged: The Language of Letting Go

“Giving Ourselves What We Deserve”

My wife went out to run some errands yesterday.  One errand was to return some clothes that did not quite work for her.  She called me a couple of hours after she had left, and sounded rather frustrated and apologetic.  I don’t remember the exact conversation, but it went something like this.  “I haven’t gotten anything done,” she said.  “I’ve just wasted time trying on a bunch of clothes.  Do you want me just to come home and fix dinner?”  She knows that I like to eat dinner early, whereas she doesn’t really care what time she eats.

Now, you must realize that my wife is not a compulsive shopper.  Quite the contrary!  She buys what she needs if it’s on sale or on the clearance rack, and then makes it last a long, long time.

So, it wasn’t really being a stellar husband for me to be a little nice.  “Just go ahead and do your other errands, and we’ll eat whenever you get home.”  Even though, given my wife’s nature and style, it wasn’t a big thing for me to be a little kind, it was a big thing for me to do.  Hey!  Lighten up on me!  I’m a beginner at being thoughtful!

So, this morning, I read the following words from Melody Beattie’s book The Language of Letting Go:

“Wednesday, May 8

Giving Ourselves What We Deserve

‘I worked at a good job, making a decent salary. I had been recovering for years. Each morning, I got into my car and I thanked God for the car. The heater didn’t work. And the chance of the car not starting was almost as great as the chance that it would. I just kept suffering through and thanking God. One day, it occurred to me that there was absolutely no good reason I couldn’t buy myself a new car – that moment – if I wanted one. I had been gratitudeing myself into unnecessary deprivation and martyrdom. I bought the new car – that day.
  —Anonymous’ ”

It is good to be grateful for what we have.  However, there are times when we deprive ourselves when there is no good reason.  This is especially true of us addicts.  We know that we don’t dare go for immediate gratification.  We know that gratitude for what we have—and even what we don’t have—is extremely important.

However, as addicts, we also tend to turn every good thing into an addiction.  Some of us get addicted to deprivation.  Perhaps there should be a twelve-step group called “D.A.”  This would stand for “Deprivation Anonymous.”

The Apostle Paul has a wonderful little instruction for Timothy, and indeed for all of us.  He says,

17 As for the rich in this present age, charge them not to be haughty, nor to set their hopes on the uncertainty of riches, but on God, who richly provides us with everything to enjoy.

18 They are to do good, to be rich in good works, to be generous and ready to share,

19 thus storing up treasure for themselves as a good foundation for the future, so that they may take hold of that which is truly life.” (1 Timothy 6:17-19, English Standard Version)

Yes, we are to trust God.  Yes, we are to be generous with others.  But did you catch a couple of words at the end of verse 16?  Let me highlight them for you.  “. . . God, who richly provides us with everything to enjoy.”  Not abuse, not hoard, but enjoy!

I hope that you enjoy your day!

“Guilt Prolongs the Problem”


Here is a meditation for addicts that I read just this morning.  This is a Hazelden reading from a book by Melody Beattie that everyone in the world should take buy and read until it has disintegrated.  We should also put a lot of her good suggestions into daily practice until they becomes part of who we are.  Here is today’s reading from her book on Hazelden’s “Thought for the Day” (https://www.hazeldenbettyford.org/thought-for-the-day, accessed 02-08-2019).

“Friday, February 8

Letting Go of Guilt 

Feeling good about ourselves is a choice. So is feeling guilty. When guilt is legitimate, it acts as a warning light, signaling that we’re off course. Then its purpose is finished.

 Wallowing in guilt allows others to control us. It makes us feel not good enough. It prevents us from setting boundaries and taking other healthy action to care for ourselves.

We may have learned to habitually feel guilty as an instinctive reaction to life. Now we know that we don’t have to feel guilty. Even if we’ve done something that violates a value, extended guilt does not solve the problem; it prolongs the problem. So make an amend. Change a behavior. Then let guilt go.

Today, God, help me to become entirely ready to let go of guilt. Please take it from me, and replace it with self-love.”

(From The Language of Letting Go by Melody Beattie ©1990, Hazelden Foundation.)

I was especially struck by her statements that “. . . extended guilt does not solve the problem; it prolongs the problem.  So make an amend.  Change a behavior.  Then let guilt go.”

When I choose to prolong guilt, rather than choosing to make an amend to someone and to change my behavior, I am simply adding one more wrong thing to feel guilty about—my guilt.  Guilt itself becomes one more wrong behavior whenever I do not address honesty the wrong behavior that gave rise to the guilt.  Prolonging guilt is merely a way for me to avoid the hard work of trusting God, asking for forgiveness, and doing the next right thing.  Real guilt is good.  Prolonged guilt is not.

“DON’T TRY TO CATCH THE GERBIL!”

Melody Beattie tells a wonderful story in her book The Language of Letting Go.

Her son brought home a gerbil to live with them.  Sometime later, the gerbil escaped and eluded capture for the next six months.  Melody and her son would catch sight of the gerbil, and would scream, “Catch him!”  However, the gerbil was still on the lam.

Finally, she decided to give up.  If the gerbil wanted to live a reclusive life, let him!

Shortly after deciding to let go of her attempts to catch the critter, he stopped beside her chair one day.  She very gently stooped down, scooped up the gerbil, and put him back in his cage.

She concluded, “Detachment works.”

Yes, it does!  It works for catching runaway gerbils—when they are ready to be caught.

There are times when I think that I am the gerbil.  I am afraid to be caught, not realizing that what I call “being caught” might actually be a better version of freedom than my own furtive hiding and eating crumbs off the floor.

But I want to take this in another direction: Fear is why we run and why we hide.  Fear is also why we want desperately to catch and cage certain memories, certain feelings, certain relationships.

Perhaps, in a sense, fear is the gerbil.  Maybe we—maybe I—try too hard to track down, corner, and cage our fears.  Maybe we should just let them run wild for a while, until we become more accepting our fears, and they become more accepting of us.

President Franklin D. Roosevelt famously said that “We have nothing to fear, but fear itself.”  Maybe we don’t even need to fear our fears.

Much of the evil I’ve done in my life, evil to myself, others, and ultimately to God, has been primarily caused by my fears and my desire to control them.  I’ve wanted desperately to detach from my fears, when maybe what I have really needed to detach from was my desire to catch and cage my fears.

My new life-motto is “DON’T TRY TO CATCH THE GERBIL!

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