When My Mind Gets Loud, I Know Who’s Talking

A few years ago I had a situation in my life that I had been stressing over. I had spent lots of time arguing with myself over a decision that, in hindsight, wasn’t all that complicated. I had built a case for one option. Then demolished it. Built another. Tore that one apart too. By the time I finally made the decision, I was mentally exhausted.

I remember while I was walking through it all, someone had asked, “You look like you’ve been wrestling with something.”

“I have,” I said. He smiled. “No,” he replied. “You’ve been wrestling with yourself.”

That conversation has stayed with me ever since. So has another sentence. God isn’t the author of chaos. God is the author of peace. Not because it magically solves every decision. It doesn’t. Because it gives me a diagnostic tool.

Just today, before home group, I was talking with a woman who’s a member of my home group and she said that very same thing. God isn’t the author of chaos, He’s the author of peace. BAM! There it was again.

My Brain Is an Amazing Lawyer

One thing Alcoholics Anonymous has taught me is this, my mind is brilliant. Dangerously brilliant. It can defend almost any position if I give it enough time. I don’t simply discover conclusions. I manufacture them. Then I become emotionally attached to them.

The Big Book says essentially the same thing. Left to myself, I don’t merely think.

• I prosecute.
• I defend.
• I negotiate.
• I appeal.

Sometimes all before breakfast. Before coming to the rooms, I endlessly negotiated with reality and sadly, Ive done the same thing since coming to A.A.

Chaos Has a Sound

I’ve noticed something strange over the years. Self-will is noisy. Really noisy. It demands immediate action, insists that every decision is urgent, creates imaginary deadlines, rehearses conversations that haven’t happened, predicts disasters that probably never will, and it recruits fear as an expert witness. And then it calls anxiety to the stand.

Sound familiar?

My head starts looking less like a peaceful place and more like the floor of the New York Stock Exchange five minutes before the closing bell. Everyone is shouting. Nobody is listening. When that happens, I’ve learned to become suspicious. Not of the decision. Of the noise.

Peace Isn’t the Same Thing as Easy

This is where I think people sometimes miss the point. Peace and comfort aren’t twins. Sometimes they’re barely acquainted. The easiest path isn’t always the healthiest one. Making amends isn’t comfortable. Admitting I was wrong isn’t comfortable. Telling the truth when a lie would be easier isn’t comfortable. Walking into a Fourth Step certainly isn’t comfortable.

Yet every one of those decisions eventually brought something deeper than comfort. They brought peace. That’s a completely different currency.

The Chaos Is Usually Inside Me

The Tenth Step in the 12 & 12 reminds us that its a spiritual axiom that every time we are disturbed, no matter what the cause, there is something wrong with us.

For years I blamed my lack of peace on everything around me. Traffic on Highway 121. Unexpected bills. A difficult conversation. Someone else’s attitude. A delayed flight out of DFW.

Take your pick. But recovery kept pointing me somewhere I didn’t particularly want to look. Inside. The real disturbance usually wasn’t the circumstance. It was my reaction.

• Fear arguing with pride.
• Control wrestling reality.
• Resentment refusing to leave the room.

No wonder I couldn’t hear much of anything. The signal wasn’t weak. The interference was overwhelming.

God Doesn’t Usually Raise His Voice

Here’s something I’ve never experienced. I’ve never felt spiritually guided by panic. Never. The decisions that have changed my life most have almost always arrived quietly. Not dramatically. Not emotionally. Certainly not with flashing lights. More like a steady conviction that refuses to disappear.

It reminds me of how noise-canceling headphones work. They don’t eliminate the world around you. They simply filter out enough interference that you can finally hear what was there all along.

Step Eleven has become that filter for me.

• Prayer.
• Meditation.
• Silence.

Not because they tell me what I want to hear but because they help me hear what I couldn’t hear while my ego was running a press conference.

A Better Question

I used to ask one question. “What do I want to do?” Today I ask several.

1. Is fear driving this?
2. Am I trying to control an outcome that isn’t mine to control?
3. Would I feel comfortable discussing this with my sponsor?
4. If I sit with this for another day, does the pressure increase… or does the peace deepen?

I’ve found that truth rarely becomes louder. Fear almost always does.

Following God’s Will Doesn’t Remove the Storm

One misunderstanding has caused plenty of confusion in recovery. People assume that if they’re doing God’s will, life should become easier. The Big Book never promises that.

• People still get sick.
• Relationships still end.
• Jobs still disappear.
• People we love still die.
• External storms continue.

The miracle is that the internal storm doesn’t have to. That’s the difference. God isn’t the author of chaos. God is the author of peace. Not necessarily peaceful circumstances. A peaceful center.

That’s what the Third Step began. That’s what Steps Ten and Eleven keep refining. And that’s become one of the simplest inventory questions I know. When my thinking grows louder, more frantic, more desperate, more controlling, I don’t automatically assume I’ve uncovered the right answer.

I usually assume I’ve uncovered more of me. Then I slow down. Pray. Talk with another alcoholic. Wait.

Because after all these years, I’ve discovered something I never expected. God has never needed to outshout my ego. He simply waits until I’m willing to stop listening to it.

My will is my personal, ego-driven desire focused on control, comfort, and short-term gratification. In contrast, God’s will is an unselfish, long-term plan rooted in love, mercy, grace, and my ultimate spiritual growth, which often prioritizes service to others over personal ease and comfort.

In love & service,