Acceptance--Don't Leave Home Without It

The title of this blog isn't mine; I picked it up this morning at an Al Anon meeting. For those of you who don't know about Al Anon, it's a 12-step program for the family and friends of alcoholics, practicing or not. And since almost everyone I know is an alcoholic or addict--mostly sober, mind you--I go to Al Anon to get my thinking straight.

So here was the epiphanette of the day: acceptance , regardless of whether I have it or not, is not going to change what is or has occurred. Pretty simple, really, but it took years for that to make any sort of sense to me. More often than not, my acceptance is at best grudging and foul-tempered. I don't like things that don't go my way; I pout; I make faces; I argue; I do a remarkably accurate king-baby impersonation and finally, when it becomes painfully obvious that my attitude will not effect a change on the here-and-now, when I've been dragged kicking and screaming to a place of recognition, then, finally, I accept.

But here's the thing: acceptance, I have learned, does not imply approval. It's not necessary for me to like what's going on. I'm perfectly and totally entitled to give an event the finger if I want; I just need to remember that whether the event is accepted with grace or bad will is completely beside the fact: the quality of my acceptance is not going to affect things either.

So it's a good news/bad news thing; it translates to this: I may be powerless over pretty much everything, but I am not hopeless. I can try to guide my response to reach some sort of healthy reaction, i.e., one that will not harm me anymore than the outcome of the event that I resent already has. I can make the best of a bad situation, lemonade from lemons, yadda yadda.

It bothers me when I get slapped across the face by the obvious.

Here's another small revelation: acceptance does not mean becoming a victim, an all-too-easy path to take when the universe is down on me. In the immortal words of Forrest Gump, shit happens. How I handle it, and how dirty I want my hands to get, is entirely up to me. The more I stir it up, the more it's likely to stink.

That, at least, is an easy thing to remember.