The Balance of Honesty
Honesty would keep me from excusing my character defects or behavior. Step Four wasn't the time for self-hatred or intense self-criticism.
I've been noticing how my mind wants to twist Step Four into self-abuse. I write about a character defect and immediately I'm drowning in shame. I acknowledge a mistake and suddenly I'm the worst person who ever lived. The critical voice in my head uses the inventory as ammunition against me.
Honesty would keep me from excusing my character defects or behavior. But Step Four wasn't the time for self-hatred or intense self-criticism. This balance is what I needed to hear. Yes I need honesty – I can't excuse or rationalize or justify. But honesty isn't the same as self-hatred. Being honest about my defects doesn't mean deciding I'm worthless.
The critical voice wants to convince me that brutal self-criticism is the same as honesty. But it's not. Honesty looks at behavior clearly without drama. Self-hatred adds layers of judgment and shame that obscure the truth. Honesty says I did this thing and it hurt someone. Self-hatred says I did this thing therefore I'm a terrible person who deserves to suffer.
Step Four asks for honesty not self-abuse. I can look at my character defects clearly while maintaining compassion for myself. I can acknowledge mistakes without deciding I'm fundamentally flawed. The balance between honesty and self-compassion is where the real work happens.
When the critical voice starts using my inventory against me, I can pause and distinguish honesty from self-hatred. Honesty: I did this thing. Self-hatred: Therefore I'm worthless. I can acknowledge the behavior clearly while refusing to let shame define my worth.
