I like to look up definitions of key words used in the Twelve Steps. I use a 1934 Webster’s Dictionary that was current when the Big Book was written. Key words and their definitions have become the subject of my artwork.

Some Steps have been hard for me to understand, but the wording of Step Two seemed straightforward at first. The phrase “a Power greater than myself” was a familiar one so I wasn’t surprised to see it in this Step. However, my thoughts were still very vague about who or what that Higher Power might be.

After working Step One, I took this Step quickly—probably much too quickly. My hurry was understandable. At that time in recovery, I was desperate to have my sanity restored. I had experienced many absurd disconnections between my thoughts and actions, and I would have gladly followed any suggestions to bring my life under control.

So, in my initial rush to get through the Steps, I did not give enough attention to Step Two. As a strong-willed person, I thought that I could restore myself to sanity by working the Steps. I grumbled, “If some mysterious Power is going to restore me to sanity, then let it take the Step instead of me.” My sponsor steered me back to Step One, making sure I recognized that I was in no shape to restore anyone’s sanity, least of all my own.

When we returned again to the Second Step, I understood it more clearly. In Step One I declared myself powerless over lust: accepting that fact meant a surrender of my will. If Step One involved a surrender, then Step Two would be a choice between believing in a Higher Power or in a lower power (that is, the types of human power that had failed to save me from addiction). Presented with those grim choices, I “came to believe.”

Eventually, I looked up the word “restore” in the 1934 dictionary. The definition given was: “Restore – v. To give back something which has been lost or taken.” I noticed the phrase “to give back” rather than “to take back.” I found it interesting that the old dictionary clearly stated what had taken me so long to realize: my sanity needed to be given back to me.

As I began to think about an image for Step Two, I thought at first of fantasy images, such as a castle floating on a cloud, or an angel rushing to rescue a person in distress. However, as with my other drawings, I had already made a decision to use only real-life images. I pondered my upcoming “restore” drawing for a long, long time. (The simplest words often required the most prayer and meditation.) I briefly considered creating a scene in which a person was returning a belonging, like a borrowed tool, to another person. But that didn’t match the dictionary definition of “lost or taken.” I had not loaned my sanity to someone; I had lost my sanity completely.

Then for some reason, images of boats crossed my mind, particularly boats near the water’s edge. I knew that a moored boat that becomes untied will eventually drift away. That certainly fit my experience of insanity. I had not driven my sanity away on purpose, but I had lost it just the same. I tried sketching boats adrift on the sea with untied ropes or broken chains dangling over their sides. But again, the images did not match the definition of giving something back.

Then finally one particular image formed in my mind. I sketched a small boat that was held fast by a chain—but a chain that had obviously been recently repaired. The chain halves had clearly been separated for a long time. The upper part of the chain had become coated with a patina of dry rust while the lower part was encrusted with the soupy slime found at the water’s bottom. A little jolt passed through my body—something that for me usually announces the arrival of a valid idea.

The bright and shiny link that tied the two ends together appeared to be freshly forged. The sturdy new link looked stout enough to reunite the broken ends and restore the chain to its original purpose. But my initial enthusiasm turned to doubt and despair. I thought that this image might be too dull to interest other people. Everyone likes a little drama and there was no drama in this image at all. But when ideas arrive through prayer and meditation, I have to let them speak for themselves.

Even today when I see this drawing, I find myself swallowing hard. The drawing is a confession of the neglect I inflicted on my family. Even though I have since been restored to sanity, nothing changes what I went through. I lost my sane mind for a very long time. It would still be gone had it not been restored by the action of my Higher Power.

On better days, this image reminds me of the renewed life I’ve been given through recovery. The slimy end of the chain speaks of my freedom from the murky mire of isolation. The rusted chain is a reminder that my mind was once drifting aimlessly, but has now been restored and redirected. What about that shiny new link that restored the broken chain? I only know that it was formed by something greater than human power. Who or what was this power—this spiritual blacksmith—who forged the link that restored me to sanity, and brought me to the safe harbor of SA? All I know is that, like the image itself, when I needed it, it was there. I cannot fully explain that statement, but I firmly believe it.