Patient with Mistakes

I messed up the same way again last Tuesday. Said I wouldn't check his phone. Checked his phone. Promised myself I was done monitoring. Monitored. Told my sponsor I'd let it go. Didn't let it go. Again.

The voice in my head was brutal: What is wrong with you? How many times are you going to do this? You'll never change.

But when I brought this to my Higher Power — the same failure, the same confession, the same embarrassment — there was no lecture. No exasperation. No 'we've been over this.' Just steady, patient presence. The same quiet welcome I got the first time.

That patience undoes me. I don't know how to receive it. I was raised to believe that repeating a mistake meant you weren't sorry enough the first time. But my Higher Power seems to understand something I'm still learning: change doesn't happen in a straight line. I'm going to circle back to the same struggles, sometimes for years. That's not failure. That's how humans actually grow.

I'm slowly learning to extend that patience to myself. Not permission to stay stuck, but grace for the process. If God isn't done with me, maybe I shouldn't be done with me either.