- 14 September 2025
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In the spirit of humility and honesty, I want to share a moment that didn’t go so well. It’s easy to highlight our wins, but growth often comes from the places where we fall short. This experience reminded me of my own character defects and the importance of staying grounded in truth, even when it’s uncomfortable.
I was guiding a woman through the steps and we had just completed her Step 5. It was clear this was her first time doing an inventory in this way—we had to navigate several hurdles, especially around the language in the Big Book. She found some of the phrasing triggering, so we spent time translating the concepts into more modern, accessible language.
Her feedback was encouraging. She described a sense of emotional relief she hadn’t felt before beginning the work. It felt like we were making real progress.
When we moved into Step 7, I introduced the idea of cultivating humility. Like many women I’ve worked with in OA, she had experienced victimization and was still felt victimized by controlling behavior from others. Sadly, she equated humility with humiliation—and wanted no part of it.
I tried to explain the difference, but she could not hear me and did not feel heard or validated. Our call ended on a sour note with me suggesting she look up the definitions of humility and humiliation for herself.
A few days later, she messaged me to say she had spoken with someone else and realized my explanation was accurate. Still, the language of the Big Book continued to bother her, and she resisted both the concepts and my suggestions. She stalled before even beginning Step Nine.
Our meetings became increasingly frustrating. She continued to be resistant and I tried to adjust my language to appease her. I wanted to make my point, but didn’t want another confrontation. Eventually, I did an inventory and saw the pattern: I was back in people-pleasing mode. The same behaviors were showing up in my relationships with friends, family, and colleagues as well. I saw how controlling I had been trying to get her to see things my way.
As part of my amends, I began saying no when I meant no. I stopped shrinking myself to make others more comfortable. With my sponsee, I stopped trying to appease and returned to the principles that got me recovered.
Unfortunately, every meeting continued to feel like a struggle. We’d agree on what to work on, but she resisted most of the mindset shifts we discussed. I continued using the Big Book, leaning more on the stories than the instructions, but even that approach didn’t sit well with her.
One day, we had what I felt was our best meeting. In hindsight, it was probably the meeting where I had been the most honest. The next day, she messaged me to say she wanted to pause the work.
I felt both relief and sadness. I wanted to help her, but I also knew I couldn’t. I’ve said many times on this blog that we must be willing to do the next thing, reflect on what went wrong (without self-blame or shame), and resolve to do better. I also believe strongly that while I have been victimized, I cannot live in a victim mindset—it keeps me stuck.
Two weeks later, she reached out again, asking to resume the work. I took a full day to consider it. Ultimately, I let her know I wasn’t the right sponsor for her. I’m a Big Book sponsor, and she was uncomfortable with the book and its language, therefore we would always be at odds. I wished her well.
A few months later, my home group read Step 7 in the OA 12 & 12. Much of the chapter focuses on humility, and it brought clarity to the lessons I had learned:
I can’t make someone do the steps. I can’t help everyone. And I can’t bend myself out of shape to make someone more comfortable.
Some people truly struggle with the language of Alcoholics Anonymous. That’s OK. I may not be the right person to mentor them, but I can still guide them toward literature that resonates until they find someone who speaks their language.
I think it is fair to say if someone only knows the OA 12 & 12, they should also expand their knowledge.
This experience taught me that being nice often means avoiding discomfort, smoothing things over, and trying to keep the peace—even at the cost of my own integrity. But being kind means telling the truth with compassion, setting boundaries, and honoring both my recovery and theirs.
Kindness doesn’t always feel good in the moment. It might mean saying “no,” stepping away, or letting someone struggle without rushing in to fix it. But it’s rooted in love, not fear.
I was trying to be nice—people-pleasing, appeasing, shrinking. When I shifted toward kindness, I found clarity, strength, and a deeper sense of peace.
This experience reminded me that recovery isn’t about perfection—it’s about progress, honesty, and spiritual alignment. Sponsorship is sacred work, but it’s also human work. I learned that humility means knowing my limits, honoring truth, and choosing kindness over niceness, even when it’s uncomfortable. I can’t help everyone, and I’m not supposed to. What I can do is show up with integrity, stay rooted in the principles that keep me recovered, and trust that people will find their way. That’s enough. And that’s freedom.
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