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I went to the grocery store the other day and got a cart. I started cruising around the store and was having a pleasant shopping experience when… WHAM! My cart suddenly got wobbly for a second and then shot sideways into the side of an old dude’s cart. He gave me a dirty look and I gave him a confused look back. What happened?
Turns out, I picked out a cart that worked perfectly fine for nine out of every 10 minutes, then one of its wheels seemed to have a panic attack and lock up. Every time I was pushing the cart and it seized up on me, the force of me pushing plus the three good wheels kept the cart moving, but its movements were completely unpredictable. I spent the rest of the trip moving very slowly so I could minimize the number of 80-year-olds who wanted to kick me in the groin. When the wheel would lock up, I would have to recognize it and try to unlock it with some side to side movement that broke it free from being jammed up.
About halfway through the shopping experience, it hit me: I am the wobbly cart. I routinely catch myself cruising along and then… BAM, I lock up. Then I need to do something to unlock that wheel that went rogue.
I think that analogy is funny, but it resonates with me for a few reasons.
First of all, I need to always consider myself a wobbly cart. The minute I think I have four perfectly-calibrated wheels on my shopping cart is the minute that I start to slide. That can’t happen.
Secondly, I have to know what to do when that wobbly wheel locks up. For me, it usually means connection—getting to a 12-step meeting or calling 12-step friends. I know some people rely on readings or prayers, but I need connection with my sober program to reel me back in. I cannot white-knuckle it and decide that I will fix my own wheel. You know what they say—a sick mind can’t fix a sick mind.
Thirdly, it helps me to remember that when my shopping cart goes off the rails, I ram into other stuff—people, places, traffic cones, you name it. My wobbly wheel has repercussions, so it can be a matter of great significance if I just keep pushing that problematic cart around.
Okay, I think I may have driven the shopping cart analogy into the ground… until next time, sober friends!
This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke:
Two eggs, a sausage and an English muffin walk into a local bar for a drink. The bartender looks up and says, “Sorry, we don’t serve breakfast here.”
(Credit: AA Grapevine, September 2000, Trina W. from Elizabeth, Pennsylvania)
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