19 – Hard Truth

Step Three: The Brutal Beauty of Letting Go

We’re stepping into the part of the Twelve Steps that doesn’t coddle us. It asks us to be honest—brutally, uncomfortably honest—not because we’re bad people, but because growth only happens when we drop the illusions.

In “16 – And This Is Why…” I talked about the importance of getting tough with ourselves without falling into shame. Our culture tends to soften the blow with gentle language, avoiding anything that sounds like taking responsibility because it gets confused with self-blame. But pages 60–63 of the Big Book don’t pull punches. They confront us with this hard truth:

If self-will worked, we wouldn’t be here.

Step Three invites us to turn over the reins—not in defeat, but in the hope of finally finding freedom.

What Does Turning Our Will Over Really Mean?

The Big Book asks us to turn our will and our lives over to the care of a higher power. But what does that actually look like in daily life?

It begins with clarity about how self-will operates—and why it doesn’t lead us where we want to go.

Quit Playing God: How Self-Will Puts Us in the Director’s Chair

The book begins bluntly:

We must be convinced that self-will can no longer run the show.

Self-will is defined as “the quality of obstinately doing what one wants in spite of the wishes or orders of others.” I’ve never worked with someone who enjoys admitting they’re not in control. I didn’t want to admit that either.  

I liked to see myself as kind—not obstinate. But the authors explain that when we lead with self-will, we’re almost always at odds with people. Sometimes our motives seem helpful; other times, we’re simply trying to get our way.

When our world revolves around how we think things should be, things tend to backfire—and we walk away confused, thinking others are ungrateful or unreasonable.  We see our way as the right way or the better way.

A Real-Life Example of Misguided “Helpfulness”

Before I met my husband, I volunteered as a fitness instructor. I kept teaching through pregnancy and even during part of my maternity leave. When I returned to work, I gave up teaching but still needed time to exercise.

My husband and I agreed on a schedule that included Saturday morning workouts. Meanwhile, he worked full-time and was building a web business on evenings and weekends.

Even though we had a clear agreement, I’d often skip the Saturday gym time out of guilt—because our child was awake then and knew he wouldn’t get work done. I thought I was being thoughtful. But tension built between us.

Eventually, my husband explained that when I didn’t stick to the plan, it disrupted his schedule. And worse, he was concerned that I would want him to “make it up to me” later—but he never knew how or when. My so-called help came with strings attached.

I had put myself at odds with him not because I wanted conflict, but because my self-will was silently steering the ship under the guise of generosity.

Self-Will, Resentment, and the Illusion of Control

The Big Book says that when things don’t go our way, we may become more gracious or more demanding—depending on our personality. When that fails, we become “angry, indignant, self-pitying” (p. 61).

We hate feeling controlled by others—yet we often attempt to control them.

“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.” (p. 62)

In my own story, it was my decision to skip workouts—breaking our agreement. That decision, born of self-will, paved the way for resentment and conflict.  I made the decision that later placed me in a position of having hurt feelings when he got angry.

Giving Up the Director’s Chair: Living by Spiritual Guidance

Before OA, my best thinking led me to over 300 pounds, emotional isolation, and tension with nearly everyone in my life—some real, some imagined.

I overreached, people-pleased, and spiraled into self-pity. I unconsciously made food a refuge—a way to numb the discomfort I didn’t want to face.

Step Three is not complicated. It’s a pledge to walk through the remaining steps with open-hearted willingness.

We’re told that if we stay committed, we’ll become less self-absorbed and more focused on what we can bring to life—not just what we can take from it.

Eventually, solving real problems replaces the need to soothe or escape through food.

“…this concept was the keystone of the new and triumphant arch through which we passed to freedom.” (p. 62)

Stepping Into the Unknown

Surrendering control is rarely comfortable. But clinging to self-will guarantees more frustration, more isolation, and more disconnection from the life we want.

If you’re standing at the edge of Step Three, unsure whether to let go or double down, let this be your turning point.

You don’t have to get it perfect.
You just have to be willing.

Freedom doesn’t begin when we finally figure everything out—it begins the moment we stop pretending we already have.