I’ve been grappling with the word enough. My mind wrestles with expectations around this concept. If I just do enough of the right things, then my wife will be kind to me; the internet won’t bother me; I won’t have to call my sponsor as much; I won’t feel so fearful, resentful, or angry. If I just read enough program material, make enough phone calls, journal enough, listen to enough tapes, amend enough relationships, go to enough conventions, and take care of myself enough. Then I will be granted permanent immunity from my character defects. Inwardly, I believe enough is the magic pill to cure my disease.

Recently, I recognized a situation where I behaved dishonestly with my wife. Within 48 hours (an improvement for me) I recognized this as a source of disturbance. I called my sponsor and wrote a note of explanation and amends for my wife to find while I was at work. She called and left a supportive and encouraging message on my phone. I thought, “Yes! I did something hard and it’s turned out much better than my fears.”

Meanwhile, in my secret place, I expected that to be enough, and expected to go home a wonderful scene of reunion and intimacy. Instead, I came home to cautious affection and warmth, things for which I am generally grateful. But I could feel the silent seed of resentment growling in my soul. My wife needed to talk some more about the situation, and determine for herself how safe and sane I was about this. “Come on,” I thought, “haven’t I done enough?!”