So I recently finished writing down the answers to the questions posed to me in relation to the 7th step of Narcotics Anonymous, and I sat down with my sponsor (via skype) to go over it.
Now, I will admit to leaning toward sarcasm when answering some of these questions that are obviously written for the brand-new newcomer. I can't help myself. And usually my sponsor just overlooks the sarcasm, because I follow it with an honest answer to the question as it relates to where I am in my recovery.
I'm not just sarcastic. I'm intolerant of stupidity and of any question to which the answer is obvious (or questions that answer themselves).
So when I get to a question that asks me whether I believe that only God can remove my shortcomings, you know my sponsor saw it coming before the question had been completely verbalized out loud.
(Let's ignore my religious beliefs and such for the moment. Let's not go there. What I do or do not believe is irrelevant. Let's just say that I believe in something greater than myself and that it has restored me to some semblance of sanity, and leave it at that.)
How did I answer this question about whether or not I believe that only God can remove my shortcomings?
"I can't even remember where I left my pants. I'm going to remove my shortcomings?"
(Yes. That is a direct quote. And, yes, that was my answer in its entirety.)
I blame @mommywantsvodka.
She made it OK to admit I can't even remember where I left my pants. (Does anybody know if she ever found her whore pants?) My dear Aunt Becky has also made sarcasm an acceptable way of communicating with the outside world. Hell, she gave me The Band, which is a bunch of people who believe that sarcasm is a perfectly acceptable way of life. (There are probably more than a few who, much like myself and Aunt Becky, can't remember where they left their pants.)
My sponsor, apparently, does not have any problem remembering where she left her pants.
I now have been tasked with figuring out what I might or might not believe in, and coming up with ways to communicate with it.
This shit is cooking my noodle, y'all. All because of the @mommywantsvodka effect in my life.
Don't worry, I ain't mad at Aunt Becky. I stand by my answer.
"I can't remember where I left my pants. I'm going to remove my shortcomings?"
Maybe when I figure out how to communicate with whatever I may or may not believe in, it will tell me where I left my pants.
If that happens, imma ask about Becky's whore pants.