It’s gone midnight, and my mind is racing. I can feel the anxiety building as an anniversary of shame approaches – a year since one chapter closed and another began. Here I am, turning yet another page.

Isn’t it strange how revisiting difficult times after just a year can shake you to your core? Whether it’s a breakup, the loss of a loved one, or in my case, a traumatic experience – the kind that leaves you limping for the rest of your days on God’s green earth – it seems like time alone doesn’t ease the weight.

For me, May and September are the months of shame. The reasons don’t really matter here, but let’s just say that sometimes hell is the reminder, the consequence, and the prison of our own making. That said, none of us should be defined by our mistakes when we’re trying to own them, learn from them, and turn our lives around.

Now seems as good a time as any to remind myself that the person I am today is a world away from who I was last year – and light years away from the person I was three and a half years ago.

If you’ve been following my blog, it’s probably clear that my recovery has gone hand in hand with reconnecting to my faith. The mantra of my programme is “from shame to grace,” so it’s no surprise that the forgiveness and reconciliation offered through the good news of Jesus (the gospel) is an invitation I simply couldn’t pass up. Especially when you’re someone like me.

I have much that needs forgiving, so I have much to own in my daily life. These reminders can come at any time – daily, weekly, monthly, or in this case, annually.

One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned in recovery is the need to set aside our baggage when it comes to faith – or “the God word,” as it’s often referred to in Twelve Step programmes. However you square that round hole, what really matters is finding a power greater than yourself. Too often, though, that power ends up being a loved one or a spouse. In my experience, placing faith in others is something I’ve done my whole life. My addiction was the worship of the created and the ignorance of the Creator.

I once heard that porn addiction is a worship problem, and that really resonates with me.

As I sit here, offering up my fears and anxieties to God, I’m reminded of how often Christ said, “Do not worry.” My usual response is to spiral into fear, but when things work out, I’m left with that still, small voice saying, “Maybe next time, you can trust me.”

In my home group, we recently focused on faith over fear, and it became a sort of show-and-tell of higher powers. Focusing on God really helped me, as I often feel I have to leave my belief in Christ at the door, reducing Him to a metaphor or presenting my faith through the language of the Steps and Traditions.

Doctor Bob puts it like this in the Big Book of AA (pp. 180-181):

“If you think you are an atheist, an agnostic, a sceptic, or have any other form of intellectual pride which keeps you from accepting what is in this book, I feel sorry for you. If you still think you are strong enough to beat the game alone, that is your affair. But if you really and truly want to quit drinking for good and all, and sincerely feel that you must have some help, we know that we have an answer for you. It never fails, if you go about it with one half the zeal you have been in the habit of showing when you were getting another drink. Your Heavenly Father will never let you down!”

I love how direct the Big Book is, and I’ve been getting a lot out of my Life Recovery Bible from Tyndale recently. It’s put together by people who really understand addiction, the Twelve Steps, and the God whose love and mercy triumph over judgement.

It’s full of devotional readings and study sections that blend my two worlds perfectly.

When fear threatens to overwhelm me, I turn to my programme and to God. When shame comes knocking, I remind myself of who I am now, not who I used to be.

Tomorrow will be fine. All I need to do is let go of trying to control the world around me, and live life on life’s terms, just for today.