The Strength I Misunderstood
Humility, the state of being humble, is often misunderstood; it is not a state of weakness, but of strength.
Before Al-Anon, I confused humility with humiliation. I thought it meant making myself small, accepting mistreatment, believing I was worthless. Years of the alcoholic’s chaos had already done that work—I’d shrunk to avoid conflict and absorbed shame that wasn’t mine. The last thing I needed was another voice telling me I was less-than.
But humility isn’t about your worth. It’s about accuracy. Humility is seeing yourself clearly: not as worthless, not as superior, but as you actually are. A person with real strengths and real limits. Someone capable of change and also someone who gets stuck. When I stopped hearing humility as “you’re bad” and started hearing it as “you’re human,” everything shifted.
The strength of humility is that it lets me ask for help without shame. I’m not groveling when I ask God to remove my defects. I’m being honest: these patterns are beyond my power to change alone, and I need help I can’t give myself. That’s not weakness. Pretending I can fix everything on my own—that’s the real trap. Admitting I can’t is what frees me to try something different.
When shame creeps in as I pray, I can pause and say out loud: Humility isn't humiliation. I'm human and need help - that's strength not weakness. Then I can pray from that place instead of from shame.
