for lo, these many years. Once I have truly, through prayer, forgiven any and all for real and imagined injuries, I’ll be forgiven. When I have really forgiven, then the flow starts towards me, and then the amends can be made. For me, at least, I have lots of forgiving to do before I can make amends.
D. W. R.
Detroit, Michigan
The Eighth Step
(From Around the Tables)
October 1977
I have, of late, participated in a succession of discussions centering on the Eighth Step. I regard this Step as the easiest but perhaps the most subtle in the program. It requires only that I make a list of people I have harmed and become willing to make amends to them all. Unlike Step Five, Eight does not require that I seek out a companion and unload it on him. It does not require searching my soul or being humble—only making a list and becoming willing. Step Nine requires some damn bold action, so it is very different from, though obviously dependent on, Step Eight.
The Eighth Step relates to people other than me. Unquestionably, it points outward and not inward. Many of us feel anger about this position and protest, “I didn’t hurt anyone else but me. I figure I have to make amends to me.” The phrasing may vary, but the idea is always the same: “make amends to me.” Frankly, I think this is so much garbage. It’s one of the “old ideas” the Big Book advises us to discard—namely, selfishness. If the founders had meant Eight and Nine to be directed at themselves, they would have so stated in plain English.
But here’s an AA paradox: I have found, to my great joy, that if I work on Eight and Nine and keep the emphasis on my relationships with others, these Steps actually do bring about the ultimate amends to me—a happy, sober day-to-day life that brims over with gladness, happiness, good fortune and all that I could wish for. It’s far better to work on the Steps the way the Big Book and the “Twelve and Twelve” suggest than to risk losing this great life.
Anonymous
Real Men Don’t Make Amends—Do They?
October 1984
Many times at meetings, I’ve heard something like “I did so and so. Do I have to make amends?” Or “A man never says he’s sorry.” Or “I’m just going to make a living amends by behaving myself.” Or “What good does it do?”
Sound familiar? It sure does to me. I’ve had all those negative attitudes at one time or another during my sobriety. It seems as though considering amends removed everything positive from my outlook on life. Then, the excuses started exaggerating themselves, and another chance to become a better person through our program slipped away. How many of those chances did I miss because false pride engendered a negative attitude toward amends? Almost all of them.
Now, thanks to God, good strong sponsorship and a great AA group, my attitude regarding amends is no longer negative. I’ve learned to make an amends that is a positive experience, not just putting a check mark on a list to fill a square. Just filling a square is not growth; it is just filling a square, the way I did when I was drinking. Growth is characterized by an identifiable change in attitude for the better. It is apparent in the way we conduct ourselves, in the way we express ourselves, in our actions. Fortunately, it comes in many ways.
The growth I have experienced through amends began when I found out exactly what an amends is not. Much to my surprise, it is not crawling on my belly or becoming a doormat or belittling myself. I no longer have to try to act responsible for events I had no control over. Did you ever try to alter events that took place when you were not even there? I don’t need to justify myself or make excuses. Making amends means taking sole responsibility for all my actions and letting others have the responsibility for theirs.
An amends is taking the episodes of my life that haunt me and laying them to rest, finally. It allows me to walk down my side of the street with my head up, unafraid of anyone I may encounter. It makes it possible for me to anticipate life instead of hiding from it. Life is to be lived, not battled or avoided.
An amends is allowing those I abused in my disease to participate in my recovery. I owe them that, and more important, I owe myself that. I believe that each time I committed an offense against another person, in reality I committed a far greater offense against myself. The offenses against others pale in significance when compared with the internal havoc I wreaked within myself.
I’ve found that mistreating others is really a two-part deal. First, I go against my values by telling myself it is OK to commit a wrong against someone else. My ethics and morals both say this is wrong, yet when I take over the management of my life, I tend to override any good sense I ever had. The pursuit of a fleeting moment’s excitement becomes more important than living up to my own standards. Each time I did that, I gave a piece of myself away. I believe my self-esteem when I got here was on the minus side of the page because I had given so many pieces of myself away.
Second, I committed the wrong against another person. Therefore, each time I was harmful to others, I gave that piece of myself to them, thus giving away control of my actions and thinking. That was certainly evident by the pains I went to in order to avoid those I had wronged. I even had to change my route to the washroom at work, taking a longer, more devious path. Fear. Guilt. Hiding. Have you ever avoided going someplace you really wanted to go, because you knew one of your “victims” would be there too? Not a fun way to live.
Upon sobering up, joining AA and setting out on the “Road of Happy Destiny,” I discovered a new strength within. That strength has allowed me to make my amends, and as a result, I’ve experienced some of the most profound and moving moments of my sobriety. Some really marvelous people reentered my life because of my amends attempts, and we are closer today than before. You see, prior to the amends, I had never stopped to really look at them, to put myself in their place, to empathize with them, to consider their importance in my life, to just be polite. I found some really good folks where I had previously seen small, inferior, bothersome persons.
Each person did one big thing for me. They all returned the small pieces of myself I had left in their charge, thus participating in my recovery by assisting me to become whole again. The more I was able to follow the Big Book in making my amends, the better I felt. It astounds me that those I wronged are able to contribute so much to my recovery. Once I discovered this, I began to seek them out more fervently, and my amends really began to enhance my sobriety. I am still amazed at God’s power to put the wreck I was back together.
It has been eight years since my first bumbling attempts at amends, and I’m pretty much whole again. All the negative feelings I used to associate with Step Nine are gone. My Higher Power has allowed me to experience our wonderful way of life to the fullest, and I want more of it.
There is yet one piece of myself still in the care of another, and I am looking forward to going home for that visit in a few months. Thanks to God, our program, my sponsor and my group, I have all the tickets I need for a very rewarding excursion into a few moments of my past. I left part of myself and someone I need there. I’m going back to get them.
N. D.
Omaha, Nebraska
How Willing Would You Be?
August 1991
Although my body walked, my spirit crawled out of the room where I had just completed my Fifth Step. I was so sick of myself and my character defects that I was totally willing to take the Sixth and Seventh Steps.
Then came Step Eight. The first part of this Step was easy. The Big Book told me that I had made my list when I made my inventory, so I took my list of persons I had harmed from my Fourth Step.
The second part of this Step was not so easy. “Willing,” it said. There’s that word again; the Big Book and the “Twelve and Twelve” seem to use that word a lot. It’s written in Step Three, again emphasized in Step Six, and here it is again in Step Eight. As