The Power In Powerlessness and Secret of Surrender

Step One: “We admitted that we were powerless over whatever—alcohol, gambling, sex, overeating, you name it—that our lives had become unmanageable.”
Step Two: “We came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.”
Step Three: “We made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God, as we understood Him.”

The first three of the Twelve Steps form the foundation upon which Alcoholics Anonymous was built, detailed in the Big Book as guiding principles for recovery from addictive, compulsive, or other behavioral problems. This global fellowship has helped introduce and support millions through a free recovery community. While there are many schools of thought and paths to recovery and sobriety, to me they all point toward the same goal: finding serenity.

Sober is often defined as being serious or subdued in demeanor—grave, sedate. Serene, however, is defined as being calm, content, composed, and of sound mind. Serenity and sobriety can be elusive, especially when the mind is awash in substances, obsessive thoughts, mood disorders, or other forms of dis-ease.

I’ve long pondered the Serenity Prayer, well before I understood that it was associated with AA. It is a remarkable prayer—three simple pleas that articulate the essence of the first three steps:

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.”

I can’t pinpoint when I first read or heard the prayer, but I know I was a preteen. I vividly remember writing it in my technicolor Peter Max diary—the one with the tiny gold lock and key. From the moment I wrote it down, I felt a profound shift in my mindset. It offered a perspective that made perfect sense and became a corrective lens through which I began to view life’s challenges.

Over the years, the Serenity Prayer has come to feel like a childhood friend. At many points in my life, it has been a mantra I clung to with all my might. In more recent years, I’ve delved into the Twelve Steps, weaving many of their principles into my daily life. They have dovetailed beautifully with the strategies, therapies, and practices I’ve cultivated over time—tools that help me maintain agency over my actions, moods, thoughts, and ideas.

To cope with the trauma, stress, anxiety, grief, and depression that accompanied my Multiple Sclerosis diagnosis nearly thirty years ago, I immersed myself in learning. Yoga, meditation, mindfulness, mental health, grief work, trauma studies, functional medicine, alternative therapies, Ayurveda, and, of course, Multiple Sclerosis itself became part of my education. Through this journey, I’ve developed a deep understanding of the body–mind–spirit connection and how intentional practices can help anchor me in the present moment.

The Twelve Steps are effective in recovery from addictions, compulsions, and many mental health struggles because, much like MS, these conditions are chronic, progressive, and life-altering. They have no simple cures so living with dis-ease requires an ongoing commitment to self-care and adaptability. While Twelve Step programs are not the answer for everyone, there is merit in examining any framework that helps cultivate clarity and calm. As they say in meetings, take what you like and leave the rest.

Recently, I began attending Al-Anon meetings, where the only requirement is concern about someone else’s drinking—and truly, I don’t know anyone who hasn’t been impacted by alcohol in some way. The Twelve Steps have proven useful in my own mental health maintenance, a form of personal recovery, because they require turning attention inward and engaging in self-examination and accountability.

It is a spiritual program, not aligned with any religious or political organization, and that distinction matters to me. I have always been on a spiritual journey. Over the years, I’ve developed daily practices and rituals—yoga, meditation, gratitude, and time outdoors—that have become touchstones in my life. These practices help me maintain clarity of mind, agility in my body, and contentment in spirit.

To quote Aristotle, “We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.” The Twelve Steps ask us to cultivate habits of self-care and self-examination while sharing experience, strength, and hope in fellowship. By integrating these steps into my self-care, I’ve found a powerful ally in managing negative thoughts, self-criticism, and anxiety.

Step One—admitting powerlessness—initially challenged me. I believed deeply in the power of the mind, in energy, and in healing. As a certified Level II Reiki practitioner, I considered myself powerful, so admitting powerlessness felt like surrendering my life force. Yet in practice, the opposite occurred. I was freed from the tyranny of my own ego and released from holding myself accountable for things beyond any human control.

When I was diagnosed with MS nearly thirty years ago, I never asked, “Why me?” but I did carry a sense of blame, and I felt shame, as though I had done something wrong to invite the disease. I fought fiercely, pouring precious energy into resistance. Over time, I learned that trying to exert power over what cannot be changed drained the very energy needed to live well, it is exhausting to always be in a fight!

Admitting powerlessness came through a spiritual awakening—a clarity that redirected my energy toward education, self-care, and intentional living. In releasing guilt and shame, I discovered that it is possible to be both powerless and powerful at the same time.

Step Two—coming to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity—came more easily for me. My understanding of God is not rooted in organized religion. Over time, I came to understand God as Grace—a force, an energy, a presence that guides, steadies, and restores.

Step Three—turning my life and will over to the care of God as I understand God—did not mean relinquishing responsibility or agency. It meant recognizing that I do not do this life alone. Turning my life and will over to Grace strengthened my commitment to self-care and allowed me to work in tandem with something greater than myself—trusting that I am supported while remaining accountable for how I live, how I care for myself, and how I move through the world.

My life has been a long and ongoing spiritual endeavor—one shaped by dis-ease, recovery, curiosity, and Grace. The Twelve Steps did not give me answers; they gave me structure. By admitting powerlessness where I have none, I have learned to conserve and direct my energy toward the places where I do.

There is a quiet strength in that balance. Powerlessness, when understood correctly, is not defeat—it is discernment. And discernment, practiced daily, has brought me closer to serenity than struggle ever could.

As always,
much love & light