Step Three: Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.

“One Step at a Time” is a series of original essays we will be running monthly. We are excited to have writer and mom Patty N. share her fresh perspective as she embarks on the road to sobriety.

STEP THREE

by Patty N.

In the spring of 1996, I converted to Judaism. A week before I officially joined the tribe, I wrote in my journal: “My conversion marks the beginning of a spiritual journey – not the end.”

Fourteen years later, my journey derailed. I hadn’t completely skidded off the track, but I was certainly heading in the wrong direction – away from humility and toward self-centeredness. My feet were no longer firmly planted on the ground; they were teetering four inches above it in $1,200 Alaia platforms.

Since I’d converted to Judaism, I had maintained a solid marriage, given birth to two beautiful daughters, bought a big apartment in the city, and, after several years as a stay-at-home mom, landed a full-time position at a fashion magazine. I became too busy to light Shabbat candles on Friday night; I felt too tired to go to services during the High Holidays; I didn’t have to teach the girls about religion – they went to Hebrew School.

I was slowly and subtly disconnecting from God. Instead of being grateful for my blessings, I was cocky. I believed that all this good fortune was the result of my hard work, my smart choices, my drive, my determination. And I deserved to be rewarded — with luxurious cosmetics, designer clothing, expensive haircuts and, of course, alcohol– the good stuff – Veuve Cliquot champagne, Patron margaritas, Ketel One Cosmopolitans, imported dinner wines and Grand Marnier with dessert. I didn’t need a Higher Power – I had the power and I was going to use it.  And, ultimately, abuse it.

The boozing got me into A.A.  And A.A., specifically the Third Step – the decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God– got me back on a spiritual path. Down in the church basement, I stripped away my protective coating: the clothes, the make-up, the lies, and the alcohol. Over the years, I had piled on these layers to make sure nobody saw the pain I was wearing underneath all that armor. But to get – and stay – sober, I had to expose myself and let others see me emotionally naked, powerless and vulnerable.

The process reminded me of when I converted to Judaism. I had gone to the Mikvah, the ritual immersion bath, where I literally shed my clothes – and my past – and humbly asked for guidance in my new life as a Jew. Now I was again in need of spiritual cleansing and decided to revisit the Mikvah as the Third Step in my recovery.

I was nervous when I arrived at West Side Mikvah, but a friendly older woman in a uniform greeted me warmly and showed me to my private waiting area – a full bathroom with clean white tiles, a plush robe, slippers, a  large shower and a medicine cabinet filled with toiletries. I carefully followed the Mikvah preparation checklist that was posted on the mirror – shower, shave legs, wash hair, clean ears, remove nail polish, clean navel, remove all make up, take out contact lenses and remove wedding band, earrings and other jewelry. I put on my glasses, robe and disposable slippers and pushed the call button on the wall labeled “Ready for Tevilah (immersion).”

After several minutes, the Mikvah Lady – a fashionably dressed redhead in her mid-30s – knocked on the door. She asked me to follow her down the long, narrow brightly-lit hallway to a small, windowless room at the end. She gently inspected my hands and feet and noticed a speck of red polish on the inside edge of my big toe.

“Here, I’ll get it,” she said, kneeling down with a cotton ball and polish remover to wipe the last of the lacquer off my nail.

Finally, I was ready for immersion. The Mikvah Lady helped me step into the square pool. I dunked under the lukewarm water, came up and recited aloud the blessing for immersion in Hebrew. I dunked again and when I resurfaced, I stayed still for a moment, truly grateful that I had returned to this spiritual place as I humbly asked my Higher Power for guidance in my new life of sobriety.

I went home, refreshed and renewed, eager to continue on my journey. But there was one more thing I had to do to keep my feet on the ground. I logged on to eBay and put my sky-high Alaia shoes up for sale.

Read Patty’s first post and second post of this series.

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