I was thinking about the phrase independence of the spirit the other day. It’s one of those sayings in AA that I’ve heard for years, but if someone asked me to explain what it meant, I couldn’t have. I wasn’t sure what it actually looked like in my everyday life.
For most of my life, I thought independence was the goal–to not need anyone. I wasn’t nearly as independent as I thought I was. I was reacting to whatever was happening between my ears and based my decisions on those emotions. Alcohol made plenty of decisions for me, but it wasn’t the only thing running the show.
The more I thought about it independence, the more I realized that the paradox isn’t just that dependence creates freedom in sobriety, but also I was dependent all along. I just didn’t know it.
I was dependent on my character defects.
That isn’t something I would have said when I was drinking because I couldn’t even see them. It wasn’t until I got sober that I began to recognize how much fear, pride, resentment, perfectionism, people-pleasing, and self-pity had been influencing my life. They weren’t just parts of my personality. I was actually using them to make decisions.
If I felt hurt, I reacted from hurt.
If I felt afraid, I reacted from fear.
If my ego was bruised, I made decisions to protect it.
Those character defects weren’t just tagging along for the ride. They were driving the bus.
One thing I’ve noticed in recovery is that there are actually fewer decisions to make than there used to be. I don’t wake up wondering if I’m going to drink today. That decision was made years ago. I don’t debate whether gratitude is worth it because I’m having a rough day. I still practice gratitude. I don’t negotiate with myself about prayer, meetings, or reaching out to another alcoholic when I need help. Those things have simply become part of how I stay healthy.
Years ago, I probably would have thought that sounded restrictive. Today, I think it’s incredibly freeing. If every healthy decision depended on how I felt that day, I’d be exhausted. My feelings change all the time. Some mornings I wake up hopeful, and some mornings I don’t. If I waited until I felt like doing the things that keep me healthy, I probably wouldn’t do them very often.
I’ve talked before about the idea that feelings are information, not instructions, and I think that’s part of what independence of the spirit has become for me. Recovery hasn’t taken away fear, resentment, sadness, or frustration. My character defects didn’t disappear the day I got sober. They still show up. The difference is that I don’t have to build my behavior around them anymore. Just because fear shows up doesn’t mean I have to follow it. Just because resentment knocks on the door doesn’t mean I have to invite it in and let it stay all day.
As I was wrapping up today’s podcast, an image came into my mind that helped me put words around this. Depending on a Higher Power feels a little like floating. It feels like being lifted just enough that I’m no longer completely tethered to my circumstances or to my character defects. I’m not saying life suddenly becomes easy or that I stop having emotions. I still have both. But when I’m willing to depend on a power greater than myself instead of depending on my own thinking, I can see things from a different perspective.
When I’m relying only on myself, I get pulled into every fear, every resentment, every disappointment, and every “what if.” Whatever I’m feeling in that moment becomes my whole world. But when I pause, pray, and remember that I don’t have to figure everything out on my own, it’s like I rise above it just enough to become an observer instead of a victim. I can notice that fear is here without letting it decide what I do. I can notice resentment without feeding it. I can recognize my ego trying to protect itself without automatically agreeing with it.
Since my stroke, that perspective has become even more important. My circumstances haven’t changed just because I got sober. I still live with a vestibular disorder. I still have days when my symptoms are frustrating, my plans change, or I need to rest. Recovery hasn’t removed those realities, but it has changed the way I experience them. My circumstances don’t have to become my identity. They don’t get to tell me who I am. I can acknowledge them, respect them, and work within them without becoming tethered to them.
Maybe that’s what independence of the spirit means for me. The more willing I am to depend on a Higher Power, the less dependent I become on fear, resentment, pride, self-pity, perfectionism, my circumstances, and even my own thinking. Those things still exist, but they don’t have to be my guide anymore.
Freedom means I no longer have to let my character defects or my circumstances decide who I’m going to be today. That’s a kind of freedom I never knew existed, and that’s what independence of the spirit means to me.