I was talking to another Al-Anon member this morning, and we were discussing how to spot alanonic acting out, because good intentions and even spiritual principles, powered by prayer, can produce plans at odds with the universe. I catch myself at this the whole time. When I do, I have to retreat into the simple tasks for the day, drop plans, schemes, and devices, and keep my head down and my mouth shut.
Set out below is a way we can use the Step Three passage in the Big Book to crack the code and find out if and how self-will is playing out.
When I'm in an 'alcoholic' state of mind, I have nefarious plans for self-advancement. I want sex, money, power, prestige, comfort, thrills, and appearance. It is obvious what is going on.
When I'm in 'alanonic' state of mind, I have plans for others, which might be well and good, but are still self-will, because they're my plans, and they've not been run past my sponsor and Higher Power. NB just running things past the Higher Power is often not enough: my Higher Power usually agrees with me when it's just Him and me. When I bring in other people, the Higher Power's tune changes as well.
Consequently, self-will is often invisible in a situation, when it is the real driver. I regularly take this passage from pages 60 to 62 and turn it into a series of questions in relation to the situation in question, as follows. This is a good way of using Step Three to tease out one of my frequent alanonic jags.
The first requirement is that we be convinced that any life run on self-will can hardly be a success. On that basis we are almost always in collision with something or somebody, even though our motives are good.
Have I collided with anyone recently?
Have my motives been good (NB good motives do not mean that self-will is not involved)?
Most people try to live by self-propulsion. Each person is like an actor who wants to run the whole show; is forever trying to arrange the lights, the ballet, the scenery and the rest of the players in his own way. If his arrangements would only stay put, if only people would do as he wished, the show would be great. Everybody, including himself, would be pleased. Life would be wonderful.
Do I have a vision for what I want?
Even if I do not personally want something, do I have a vision for what I think is best?
In the latter case, where did that come from? Me, others' expressed wishes, or others' wishes as expressed through their behaviour? Is it my job to have this vision?
Note: Jim W would say that our job is to help the rest of God's kids get their hearts' desire, and, as long as their hearts' desire does not harm them, we surrender to that. We go to any lengths to help people move along their path.
In trying to make these arrangements our actor may sometimes be quite virtuous. He may be kind, considerate, patient, generous; even modest and self-sacrificing. On the other hand, he may be mean, egotistical, selfish and dishonest. But, as with most humans, he is more likely to have varied traits.
Have I been the former or the latter? Nice or naughty?
Note: This is a trick question: self-will is self-will, whether I'm nice or naughty.
What usually happens? The show doesn’t come off very well.
Have I got my own way? If I did, did it make me happy?
He begins to think life doesn’t treat him right.
Do I perceive the problem to lie outside myself?
Do I see myself as the holy innocent victim?
He decides to exert himself more. He becomes, on the next occasion, still more demanding or gracious, as the case may be. Still the play does not suit him.
When I encountered resistance, did I retreat or redouble my efforts? Did this work?
Admitting he may be somewhat at fault, he is sure that other people are more to blame. He becomes angry, indignant, self-pitying.
Have my negative feelings about the situation escalated? Have I continued to construe the problem as lying outside myself?
What is his basic trouble? Is he not really a self-seeker even when trying to be kind?
Can I see that basic (i.e. fundamental, underlying) trouble lies within?
Can I see that, at the root of the problem, is my plan?
Can I see that, even if my plan is principled and even apparently selfless, it is still self-seeking, because it is my plan?
Is he not a victim of the delusion that he can wrest satisfaction and happiness out of this world if he only manages well? Is it not evident to all the rest of the players that these are the things he wants? And do not his actions make each of them wish to retaliate, snatching all they can get out of the show? Is he not, even in his best moments, a producer of confusion rather than harmony?
Do I believe that what I want is God's will?
Do I believe others are failing to see that?
Are others resisting, retaliating, withdrawing, setting boundaries, arguing, counter-attacking, or otherwise adjusting their behaviour?
Do I feel confused, conflicted, upset, and unsettled?
Or do I feel clear, harmonious, balanced, and stable?
Our actor is self-centered—ego-centric, as people like to call it nowadays. He is like the retired businessman who lolls in the Florida sunshine in the winter complaining of the sad state of the nation; the minister who sighs over the sins of the twentieth century; politicians and reformers who are sure all would be Utopia if the rest of the world would only behave; the outlaw safe cracker who thinks society has wronged him; and the alcoholic who has lost all and is locked up. Whatever our protestations, are not most of us concerned with ourselves, our resentments, or our self-pity?
Have I chiefly been concerned with my welfare and the conduct of others?
Have I chiefly been concerned with the welfare of others without them asking me to be?
Do I believe that others would be better off if they changed tack and followed my plan?
Do I believe I know what's best for them better than they do?
Do I believe I have a special connection with God, special insight that others lack?
Do I have a vision for the collective?
Where did that come from? From them, or from me?
Have others expressed, through their words or actions, what they want?
Do I have thoughts like, 'They don't know what is good for them,' 'They'll thank me one day,' 'I'm protecting them from themselves'?
Selfishness—self-centeredness! That, we think, is the root of our troubles. Driven by a hundred forms of fear, self-delusion, self-seeking, and self-pity, we step on the toes of our fellows and they retaliate. Sometimes they hurt us, seemingly without provocation, but we invariably find that at some time in the past we have made decisions based on self which later placed us in a position to be hurt.
What am I frightened of?
Where have I been deluded? If I do not think I have been, have others suggested I might be?
What am I after?
Do I see myself as a victim, and others as perpetrators?
Do I think this situation is unfair?
Have others' toes been stepped on?
Did they retaliate?
Have I been hurt by their words or actions?
Did I set the ball rolling?
If someone else set the ball rolling, did I engage when I could have let the ball roll right on past?
If I had said nothing and done nothing, and simply left things be, where would things be now?
So our troubles, we think, are basically of our own making. They arise out of ourselves, and the alcoholic is an extreme example of self-will run riot, though he usually doesn’t think so. Above everything, we alcoholics must be rid of this selfishness. We must, or it kills us! God makes that possible. And there often seems no way of entirely getting rid of self without His aid. Many of us had moral and philosophical convictions galore, but we could not live up to them even though we would have liked to. Neither could we reduce our self-centeredness much by wishing or trying on our own power. We had to have God’s help.
Can I see that I am the cause of my disturbance, my difficulty, and my conflict with others (= my trouble)?
Can I see that I couldn't see?
Can I see that I am on the wrong track?
Can I see that I need God's help to get on the right track?
And now to the solution:
This is the how and why of it. First of all, we had to quit playing God. It didn’t work. Next, we decided that hereafter in this drama of life, God was going to be our Director. He is the Principal; we are His agents. He is the Father, and we are His children. Most good ideas are simple, and this concept was the keystone of the new and triumphant arch through which we passed to freedom.
When we sincerely took such a position, all sorts of remarkable things followed. We had a new Employer. Being all powerful, He provided what we needed, if we kept close to Him and performed His work well. Established on such a footing we became less and less interested in ourselves, our little plans and designs. More and more we became interested in seeing what we could contribute to life. As we felt new power flow in, as we enjoyed peace of mind, as we discovered we could face life successfully, as we became conscious of His presence, we began to lose our fear of today, tomorrow or the hereafter. We were reborn.
We were now at Step Three. Many of us said to our Maker, as we understood Him: “God, I offer myself to Thee—to build with me and to do with me as Thou wilt. Relieve me of the bondage of self, that I may better do Thy will. Take away my difficulties, that victory over them may bear witness to those I would help of Thy Power, Thy Love, and Thy Way of life. May I do Thy will always!” We thought well before taking this step making sure we were ready; that we could at last abandon ourselves utterly to Him.