Returning the Sledgehammer

Tonight’s meeting topic was forgiveness. The chair opened with an image that stuck with me: returning the sledgehammer. Letting go of the thing you’ve been using to destroy your own life, and forgiving the people and situations that handed it to you in the first place.

When my turn came around, somebody had already broken the silence, and then it got quiet again. I decided to break it a second time.

I talked about the mindset I carried for a long time before sobriety. I forgive, but I don’t forget. That’s a cheap version of forgiveness. It sounds like letting go, but it’s really just holding on quietly. You tell yourself the score is settled while you keep the ledger open.

When I got into the rooms and started reading the pages, forgiveness kept showing up. I knew I needed to forgive my mom. We’d gone almost a decade without really talking. Things went sour and we drifted apart, and a lot of that distance was my choice. Early in the program I decided to make amends in a way, to try and rebuild something with her.

I invited her to a meditation meeting. We sat together, held hands, stayed silent for half the meeting focused on our own thoughts. Then someone brought up the daily reflection and we sat with that another fifteen minutes before the group started sharing. My mom and I mostly just held hands through all of it. When I spoke up, she told me how proud she was that I was part of the program.

I hadn’t fully immersed myself in the program yet at that point. I had another big relapse waiting for me down the road. But that meeting was something I chose to do anyway, and it wasn’t easy. Real forgiveness, the kind that actually lets go, was new to me then. It took a year or more of rebuilding that relationship. I ended up living with her for a while, helping her through some health issues. That was early work, and it was slow.

Reflecting on that tonight, I thought about how far I’ve come. A few days ago I lost my job. Got a call telling me I no longer worked there as of the next day, no reason given. My first reaction was just okay. I didn’t reach for the why me, or the anger, or the feeling that God was doing something to me. Instead I had a clear sense of what to do next.

Rather than counting it as a loss, I thought about what I’d gained. Experience in a field I know I enjoy and want to keep pursuing. A direction to keep moving in. It felt less like something being taken from me and more like God saying, I need you somewhere else, pointing me a little differently than before.

I did what the program teaches for hard moments. Called my sponsor and talked it through. Went to a meeting. Shared about it there. A buddy of mine was already at the meeting and pulled me over to his car right after, and we talked it out. I processed the whole thing quickly, and I could see it as a step in a different direction instead of a stopping point.

A year and a half ago that news would have hit a lot harder. Tonight I could see it clearly, and one final thought I brought back to the share: this is the proof the program works. I know for a fact I wouldn’t have processed something like that the same way before. That’s what this program has done for me.