A Story of Recovery:

Surrender – Lay Down Your Weapons!


Surrender—a word I have been defining and re-defining since I came into FA seven years ago.  Did you catch that? A word I have been defining? I have been re-defining? Every time someone suggested I surrender—could be anything—I tried to figure out just what that meant. Time and again, I came up with a definition that went something like this:

To surrender:  do it (whatever “it” happened to be) someone else’s way this time, then next time I get to do it my way.

It is a process of negotiation, compromise, barter. For example, when I first came through the doors of FA I was vegetarian and about 15 pounds underweight. Before the person I had tapped for a sponsor agreed to sponsor me, she asked me two questions: “Are you willing to be open-minded about being vegetarian?” and, “Are you willing to be open-minded about your weight? Translation: Are you willing to surrender? (Only I did not get that then.)

At the time, I guess I figured that someday I might be able to be vegetarian again, or that I could lose at least some of the 15 pounds. I came to understand that is not exactly the FA meaning of surrender!

Over the last seven years, this concept of surrender has come up several more times – surrender caffeine, surrender excessive exercise, surrender excessive use of a particular condiment. It all boiled down to: surrender your will. Do it someone else’s way. Let go.

Recently I was at a meeting when I finally got it. This woman was talking about surrender, and I heard the definition of the word that I needed. Here is what she said: “The military definition of surrender is this. You lay down your weapons, sit down, put your hands in your lap, and wait to be told what to do next.” Bingo! How simple and straightforward is that?

So what are the weapons that I have to lay down? Ego, self-will run riot, defensiveness, the determination that I know best, and fear, which encompasses them all. Those are the weapons with which I have been forging ahead, and I am tired. I welcome this notion of surrender. After laying down the weapons, I get to sit quietly, wait patiently, then allow someone else to guide me. Whew!

 

This story was originally published in the Connection Magazine. Subscribe to the Connection Magazine for more stories of recovery. Or submit your own story of recovery.