Recovery doesn’t hand you courage wrapped in a bow. It drags you into the dark and says, Now what?
Fear shows up every damn day. Fear of relapse. Fear of being honest. Fear of walking into another meeting where everybody looks fine and you feel like trash. Fear of stepping on the scale. Fear of failing again.
Courage isn’t the absence of that fear — it’s action in the middle of it.
I’ve dialed numbers with my hands shaking. I’ve prayed with nothing but doubt in my throat. I’ve sat with my food scale when everything in me screamed, This is stupid — just eat. That’s courage. It’s not flashy. It’s not heroic. It’s gritty.
The Big Book calls fear “an evil and corroding thread.” It eats us alive. Courage is the thread that stitches things back together.
In recovery, courage looks like this:
Admitting the relapse out loud.
Saying “I don’t know” instead of faking wisdom.
Praying when you’re not sure God’s even listening.
Putting the damn food on the scale when pride says, I’ve got this.
That’s the grit side of courage — doing it scared. Because the disease doesn’t wait for you to feel ready.
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Reflection Question
Where are you hiding behind fear right now — and what’s one action you can take today anyway?
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Today’s Work
Write down one fear that’s been running your program.
Share it with God, your sponsor, or someone in fellowship.
Take the action you’ve been avoiding. Even if it feels like crawling.
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God,
I’m afraid. I don’t want to admit it, but it’s true.
Fear runs me, fear locks me down. Give me the courage to act anyway — to pick up the phone, to show up at the meeting, to weigh the food,to face the truth.
I don’t need to feel brave, Lord — I just need the guts to move.
Do it with me.
Amen.