I work in a building with three elevators. Because it’s an older facility, sometimes one of the elevators isn’t working. Usually that’s not a big deal; it just means waiting a few minutes longer to get upstairs to my work area. The other day, however, I came to work to find that two elevators were down. There was already a sizable group waiting their turn for a ride. It reminded me of a three lane interstate limited to one lane during rush hour.

To complicate things, I come into the building from the first floor parking garage, while many employees enter from the basement parking areas. Every time the one working elevator stopped at the first floor, it was already full. Now it felt like being in the far left lane of an interstate when only the far right lane was moving!

Being somewhat compulsive, my mind immediately went into gear to figure out all my options. I could stand in place waiting for the crowd downstairs to thin out so I could squeeze onto the elevator. But somehow that felt too much like “accepting” my dilemma. Or I could walk downstairs and wait in line to get a place on the empty elevator. But that felt too ordinary for someone as special as me. Or I could walk up to the second floor and jump on the elevator when someone got off. But I might get a disdainful look from someone who had waited their turn patiently below. Or I could just walk up to the fourth floor to my office and get the exercise I needed anyway. But then I would be admitting my powerlessness over the stupid elevator!

Chuckling to myself, I remembered the old AA saying: “The elevator’s broke; you’ll have to take the Steps.” In fact, I said that phrase out loud to those standing around me, wondering if any of them would make the connection with that program-related theme. (A few people did follow me—maybe they’re in recovery too!) I made it to the third floor, but began to puff a little as I “trudged” up the last few steps to my destination.

By the time I plopped down in the chair at my desk, I was already thinking about the corollary between what I had just done, and the process of working the Twelve Steps. My trip from the first floor to the second had been like working Steps One, Two, and Three, in that I had made a good beginning on the journey and was pumped up about going the rest of the way. By the time I went from floor two to three, it began to feel like working Steps Four through Seven: a little more vigorous work, but still a worthwhile venture. It was only when I got to the last two flights between floors three and four that I began to get seriously winded. I was tempted to stop and rest on the landing before the last few steps.

Hmmm—sort of like my current process of working the Eighth and Ninth Steps. I was able to start my list for Step Eight because I had my Fourth Step inventory to work from. When it came to starting Step Nine, the distance between where I was and where I wanted to be began to look like a long steep staircase. Maybe I’d better stop and rest awhile. Maybe I’ll just go back to a lower level and try to catch the elevator to bypass this part of the journey. After all, I’ve worked awfully hard at this and I still have plenty of time.

I realized that what had kept me going up the steps at work was the satisfaction that I had come so far and was almost at the place I needed to be. Similarly, in recovery I have begun to experience some of those wonderful promises that seemed so elusive early on. I am starting to feel the amazement of knowing a new freedom and a new happiness. I am discovering how to learn from the past without trying to obliterate it through addictive behaviors. I am more serene and at peace now than I can ever remember being in my sixty-one years.

And I am “finding what none of the substitutes had ever supplied.” I am “making the real Connection.” I am on the way home. That’s more than enough to keep me working Step Nine!