The Power in Powerlessness and the Secret of Surrender

If you’ve spent any time around Twelve Step programs, you’ve likely heard these words:

We admitted that we were powerless…
We came to believe…
We made a decision to turn our will and our lives over…

The first three of the Twelve Steps are the foundation of Alcoholics Anonymous, outlined in the Big Book as guiding principles for recovery from addiction and compulsive behavior. Today, this global fellowship supports millions of people worldwide. While there are many paths to recovery and sobriety, for me they all point toward the same destination: serenity.

Serenity and sobriety are closely related. To be sober is to be serious, grounded, and clear-minded. To be serene is to be calm, content, and composed. Both can feel surprisingly hard to reach—especially when the mind is cluttered with substances, obsessive thoughts, mood disorders, or any other form of dis-ease.

A Prayer That Found Me Early

Long before I knew the Serenity Prayer was connected to AA, it had already found its way into my life.

I don’t remember when I first heard it, but I know I was a preteen. I vividly recall writing it in my technicolor Peter Max diary—the one with the tiny gold lock and key. The moment I read it, something clicked. When I wrote it down, I felt a shift in my perspective, as though I had suddenly been given clearer vision.

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.

Over the years, that prayer has felt like an old friend. I’ve returned to it again and again, especially in moments when life felt overwhelming.

Living the Steps, Not Just Studying Them

In recent years, I’ve explored the Twelve Steps more intentionally and woven many of their principles into my daily life. They fit naturally alongside the practices I’ve cultivated for decades—yoga, meditation, mindfulness, and intentional self-care.

After being diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis nearly 30 years ago, I immersed myself in learning how to live well with trauma, grief, anxiety, depression, and chronic illness. I studied everything from functional medicine and alternative therapies to Ayurveda and mental health. What became clear over time was the profound connection between body, mind, and spirit.

Like addiction, MS is chronic, progressive, and life-altering. There is no cure—only management, adaptation, and compassion for oneself. That’s why the Twelve Steps resonate so deeply with me. They offer a framework for living honestly, gently, and responsibly with conditions that don’t simply go away.

Twelve Step programs aren’t for everyone, but I believe there is value in any path that brings clarity and calm. As they say in meetings: take what you like and leave the rest.

Turning Inward

Recently, I began attending Al-Anon meetings, where the only requirement is concern about someone else’s drinking. In truth, most of us have been impacted by alcohol in some way.

What I appreciate most about the Steps is that they ask us to turn inward—to practice self-examination, accountability, and humility. This is a spiritual program, not tied to any religious or political ideology, and that distinction matters to me.

While I’m deeply connected to my Jewish heritage, my spirituality has always been experiential rather than doctrinal. My daily rituals—yoga, meditation, gratitude, time outdoors, sunlight on my face—are what ground me. They help me stay clear-minded, physically connected, and emotionally steady.

As Aristotle said, “We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.”

Step One: Rethinking Power

Admitting powerlessness didn’t come easily to me.

I’ve long believed in the power of the mind and the movement of energy—the power of a smile, a hug, a laugh, or a cry. As a Level II Reiki practitioner, I’ve always known myself to be powerful. So the idea of admitting powerlessness felt unsettling, almost like giving something up.

But what I eventually learned is that admitting powerlessness isn’t about surrendering your strength—it’s about releasing responsibility for what was never yours to control.

When I was diagnosed with MS, I didn’t ask “Why me?”—but I did blame myself. I believed I must have done something wrong. That belief fueled a fight-at-all-costs mentality. And while that mindset is often celebrated, it nearly drained me.

Anyone living with chronic illness knows that energy is precious. Fighting reality cost me more than it gave me.

It wasn’t until I experienced a spiritual awakening—connecting body, mind, and spirit—that clarity emerged. Admitting powerlessness allowed me to redirect my energy toward learning, adapting, and caring for myself in sustainable ways.

Letting go of the “fighter” identity freed me from guilt and shame. I now focus my power on what I can influence: my thoughts, my responses, my gratitude, and my kindness.

There is profound strength in acknowledging limits. Powerlessness and power can—and do—coexist.

Step Two: Greater Power, Meeting Grace

Belief in a power greater than myself came naturally.

I don’t define divinity through religion. I call that greater power Grace—an energy, a presence, a vibration that has made itself known to me again and again.

Grace speaks through intuition and quiet knowing. Grace has carried me through pain, despair, and uncertainty. After five years in a wheelchair, I am walking again—with a cane, yes, but walking. I’m not on medication. Chronic pain that defined my life for decades has lifted.

Anyone who has lived with pain knows how deeply it affects the mind. I have no doubt that Grace saved me during moments when pain distorted my thoughts and dimmed my hope.

Step Three: Trusting the Partnership

I turned my life and will over to God long before I knew the Steps. Yoga and meditation opened that door. Naming God as Grace came later.

To me, Grace is the living expression of God—present in music, nature, tears, laughter, and community. God shed His grace on thee, and crown thy good with brotherhood. Connection, after all, is sacred.

I believe we are meant to live with empathy, compassion, and belonging. Turning my will over to God didn’t make me passive—it strengthened my commitment to self-care and allowed me to move through life knowing I am supported.

Grace and I work together. And she has never left my side.

As always,
much love & light,
Stephanie