A few weeks ago, I volunteered to act as secretary for my 12 Step group. However, after just one meeting in my new role, I contracted the raging, beastly stomach flu direct from the bowels of Satan and had to hand the secretary duties right back to the former secretary, the one and only person whose contact information I had. This week, I was feeling better, and as I prepared for the meeting, I began to think about ways I could make my part of things run more smoothly. I decided that at the end of the meeting, during the time reserved for announcements from the officers, I would ask for help with one portion of the format. I was proud of myself for making the decision to reach out and for coming up with a solution I thought would both help me perform my service more efficiently and take care of myself.

At the end of the meeting, I followed the current script and asked for announcements regarding literature before moving on to other officers, at which point I intended to make my announcement. However, before anyone else could speak, one of the other women spoke up to propose the very idea I had in mind. “Oh, yes! I was going to ask that same thing,” I said.

The meeting moved on, but my mind lingered a bit on the incident. It’s something that would have sent me into fits of rage in the past. Someone broke the rules and spoke out of turn! Someone implicitly criticized me by asking that I change the way I was doing things! Someone implied I was not smart enough to come up with an idea to fix it myself! Who does she think she is?! Who does she think I am?! Does she think I’m incompetent or stupid?!

But instead, what I noticed was the absence of most of my typical emotions around these situations. I wasn’t enraged. I didn’t take it as a personal criticism of my abilities as secretary. I let go of my anxiety around the breach of rules and separated my personal emotions around rule breaking in general from this particular incident. I saw that she had seen the same problem with a particular part of the meeting not running smoothly and had come up with the same idea to fix it. I saw that I could accept her help with the situation and move on without letting resentment eat me alive in all of our future meetings.

Of course, after a moment’s reflection, I did notice that (like a competitive kindergartener), rather than simply thanking her and seconding her (and addressing any rule breach, as necessary, with detachment), I pointed out that I’d come up with that idea too. I still wanted the recognition and praise I’d imagined for doing such a good job as a (apparently not so) humble servant. And I saw myself in that moment still moving along the path: working to appreciate the progress, while continuing with the work that lays ahead.