Step Three

My sponsor says that in developing the willingness required for this step, we need to develop a readiness to go beyond physical, intellectual and emotional living to allow ourselves to explore spiritual living. But how am I to even imagine this concept, let alone implement it? I am stuck in this body; while human, there is no escaping the reality of these bones, the flesh that surrounds them, and the fascia that wraps and re-wraps, hugging the whole works together beneath my miraculous skin. How am I to drop my emotions when they seem to arise of their own accord, just because I want to be willing to have a spiritual life? 

I think all alcoholics crave transcendence, and this is why we drank. As Carl Jung wrote in his letter to Bill W: The craving for alcohol was the equivalent, on a low level, of the spiritual thirst of our being for wholeness, expressed in medieval language: the union with God...'alcohol' in Latin is spiritus, and you use the same word for the highest religious experience as well as for the most depraving poison.

“Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of a higher power.”

Spiritual principle: Willingness

I think it is helpful at first to re-establish that in Step 2 it is neither necessary nor desirable to narrowly define the nature of my higher (deeper, broader) power. It is also ill-advised for me to get hung up on technical details of what exactly constitutes sanity - this searching for definition keeps me living in my left brain, in the world of the rational and logical, which never served me in my active addiction and which has a tendency to want to take over and fix, manage or control the areas of my life that are not flowing, i.e. that are stuck. In Step 3 I need to cultivate the willingness that will allow me to leap forward without logically understanding what the outcomes will be and absolving myself of the fiction that I can control these outcomes anyway. This leap forward, from what Joseph Campbell would describe as 'the jumping-off place' into the belly of the whale, is the 'decision' we must make in Step 3. 

The literal meaning of the word 'decide' is 'to cut off'. The way this decision is made is as unique as our fingerprints, but essentially we are cutting ourselves off from not only our old way of living, but from our old way of thinking. Clearly, this decision is an active undertaking, and is not a one-off affair. We have to make the effort to come willingly to this decision again and again, open with an honest heart (not logical head) for the transformation that allows us to live outside our comfort zone even as we slip back into it. To continually choose the path of healing, awareness, and growth requires a sustained effort to be able to let go of our old ideas at the moments when they seem to offer us the most comfort.

In a way it appears deceptively simple; the power that we have come to have some belief in through Step 2 is still here for us. All that's being asked of me, then, in Step 3, is that I drop my defences and allow that power to help me out. In order to work the rest of the steps, this willingness for a personal spiritual connection - a connection I understand to be my own. This decision to give up the illusion of control can be frightening and requires consistent practice - a daily practice. At this point, prayer and meditation might prove invaluable. I understand that it is very often heard at AA meetings that "the steps are numbered for a reason,", implying that we should do them in order. I can't find that information anywhere in AA literature, however, and it only makes sense to me that waiting until I "arrive" at Step 11 before I try prayer or meditation would be unnecessarily hamstringing my own recovery. The benefits I receive from attempting my own versions of prayer and meditation support my ongoing efforts to make the decision required of me in Step 3. 

The other thing I "cut-off" in this step is the idea that I can walk back into the faulty paradigm of my addictive thinking and behaviour, that I can somehow make the old way of life work. I cut off the idea that that house of cards can hold me any longer, that alcohol can still offer me refuge from the pain I feel. In spiritual terms, this pain is a gift, and feeling it with awareness and equanimity (as opposed to numbness and aversion) is what brings me greater spiritual insight and freedom. Cutting off this old behaviour and thinking opens up greater humility, which is, in essence, the ability to see things as they really are--not as I want them to be or as I fear them to be. Greater humility brings greater willingness to choose freedom from my rusty ideas of who I am and who I can become; in a sense, it is the process of deconstructing my own story so I am not bound by it any longer: this is why, in the Third Step prayer, we asked to be relieved of the bondage of self, which means returning to a place of not knowing. 

If I accept "not knowing," then I do not need to fix, manage and control every detail of my life. I can experiment with this step, using my craving and aversion as a diagnostic. Gradually, I see progress and my reaction time towards making a conscious decision to try something new becomes less and less. But this step, and this process, is not done in my head - for me, anyway, the logical, reasoning brain on its own is not the portal into the realm of the spirit within. I need to start with my body.

We don't hear this very often in AA meetings, but the process of "turning it over" to a higher power is, in large part, a physical one. We are burdened with toxins, fear and disease, which find their way into our physical beings where we store them up and store them up and, in active addiction (and often in recovery) ignore them. We somehow remain incapable of seeing the direct correlation between our anger and fear and our physical ailments. This is why I see the body and, particularly, the breath, as the key gateway to the inner sanctum. The breath is the bridge between the unconscious (which is never unconscious, even when we sleep) and the conscious mind -- it functions autonomically and it can also be controlled. The breath used in tandem with physical movement and awareness, accepting everything just as it is, is called yoga. I believe that yoga, as a practice, is directly in line with the spiritual principles of the 12 steps and that, in fact, Patanjali's Yoga Sutras, the first codified system of yogic technology, parallels (in many ways) the 12 step process. 

Willingness to let the pus come out of the wound, in emotional terms, is not always an easy state to come to, especially for someone who is so used to avoiding mental and emotional pain through the use of booze and drugs. But as we re-learn how to breathe, and give new life to our bodies by stretching them, giving them exercise, and reducing the toxins we put into them,  it is not only our physical bodies that become strengthened, but our subtle bodies as well. Locked so long in the spiral of shame and self-degredation, we enter an upward spiral in line with the law of nature, and the less we try to control this process and accept it as it comes, the more elegant and joyful it can be. Eventually we stumble naturally onto our own meditation, where the mind is alert, concentrated, focused - not relaxed and half-asleep, but vibrant. Awake. 

But we start small. Maybe with a couple of deep breaths, a positive thought, a short gratitude list. Maybe just a bow in the morning, an acknowledgement to the light that resides within, whatever name we give it. When I bow I sense that I am bowing internally as well as externally; as within, so without. In this way the connection does not escape me, even if I am at a loss to name or define it. Faith is an attitude of mind rather than subscription to a specific philosophy or dogma.

I make the decision in Step 3 to investigate this life of mine, every moment of which is precious. With the repeated practice of this step, I have come to see that every element and every dimension of life exists and thrives on the spiritual plane, even the mundane. 

Step Two

“Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.”

Spiritual principle: Open-Mindedness

Open-mindedness means opening my mind and inner awareness to possibilities beyond my personal limited imagination, creativity and intelligence.  Whatever this power greater than myself is, it is not defined in this step; we need only be open to possibilities. Many of us are confronted here with The Great Wall of UGH. In this society there are a quinbillion different roadblocks to belief in a higher power. These mental and emotional blockages can seem insurmountable at first, but with a little bit of reflection and the spiritual principle of open-mindedness, I can step my way safely into the sunlight with surprisingly little resistance. 

I was told that eventually I will need to define what is meant by a "power greater than me." I don’t necessarily think so; I think I needed to undefine it for myself. Source, what some people call God or Higher Power, cannot be confined to my limited mind. I need only be open, though, which means willing to change.  I must be careful not to fall into the deadly trap of waiting to be absolutely certain I can conceptualize and define in detail my higher power. If I am expecting certainty, I will be waiting for a long time--probably long enough to get drunk again. I don't need to be certain, I simply need to be amenable to being shown the way, which means listening without judgment. Perhaps the more appropriate term for this spiritual principle is open-hearted, not open-minded, as I need to feel my way through this process more than think my way through it. If I am in AA, chances are I didn’t get here because my thinking and reasoning have a stellar track record; this doesn't mean my mental faculties are all garbage, though. I need my wits to stay sober, but first I need to train my mind to be able to discern. I must be able and willing to see things as they truly are. But how can I do this when I never had the power to do so before? The answer is in this very important step, which has been called in AA literature the "rallying point to sanity."

Sooner or later I understood that in order to believe in a power greater than me, I also needed to deconstruct my perception of the word 'belief' and build up a definition that works for me. The idea of belief as it relates to spiritual principles may have uncomfortable associations for many of us. So we need to define belief for ourselves. I asked myself How am I going to choose to believe? How is my belief going to be genuine to me? It is possible that if I read the AA literature and form my own conception of a God or Higher Power, I may be concerned at some point that I am merely using my imagination to gain a tenuous purchase on spirituality, and thus my grasp on sobriety will be flimsy. Yet my imagination is the creative, connected aspect of my mind, and my mind houses a lot more than I can consciously call to memory or articulate in my waking hours. From this vast storehouse dreams are born, and as Joseph Campbell once said, dreams and myths come from the same place. If I approach my own creative imagination with the honest intention behind the spiritual principle at play in this step, I will not be off the mark. 

Part of the open-mindedness required in this step is to make myself open to the unknown, accepting that my alcohol-addled brain cannot fully serve my mind in the early stages of recovery. I have already admitted to lack of power. This is the fundamental problem that I am addressing in Step 2; I cannot address it through defiance. Making myself open to the process of change and growth is vital. With the human ignorance I am born with and lived with and drank with, I shattered the perfect image or representation of my connection with Source. 

Imagine this image of a Higher Power as a crystal sculpture; it represents belief or inherent awareness of this spiritual connection I have and have always had, whether I’ve been ignorant of it or not. In recovery, at Step 2 in fact, I can wake up to the fact that this glass sculpture is lying in shards at my feet. The rest of this process is about picking up each piece I can find, examining myself through it, turning my gaze inward, and then fixing these pieces together to form my own representation of the whole. It will never be perfect or complete, but from this perfect sculpture I may someday piece together a stained glass window through which I can, during times that I choose to, glimpse enough truth and beauty to understand that love is what's left when I let go of everything I don't need. Love is what I was looking for in the first and last place I drank, and what I sought out every time I put a bottle to my lips.

The third thing that begs defining (or redefining) in this step is sanity, the antonym of which is often defined in AA meetings as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result each time. Presumably, if I am at Step 2, I have already copped to this in Step 1, so it shouldn't be too bitter a pill at this point. And yet it is, for many. There is often the residual fear that if I accept AA's version of insanity, I am admitting I am a crazy alcoholic. Ego tries to lift its head here, disguised as thoughts of what others might think or perceive of me joining this mysterious cult of weirdos that hang out in musty church basements. We have assumed for so long that we do not fit here or there because we have feelings of "not fitting in," which is one of the great many things we eventually come to understand we all have in common. My ego tells me that while AA (which is at its core a fellowship to help people practice the 12 steps) might work for some, it certainly won't work for me; I am different, after all. My situation and circumstances and background are special. If I am unable to break out of this egoistic thinking, this is what is known in recovery parlance as "terminal uniqueness." 

"Whatever you do, don't go to AA, man," a friend warned me when I told him I was checking myself into a 28-day rehab in September, 2001, "That's like going to church! They'll change you." At that point, thankfully, I had had enough humiliation and suffering to grasp enough humility to understand that I needed to change, whether I wanted to or not. 

Go to an AA meeting and look around; when people start to speak watch what happens to the energy in the room and to people's faces as one alcoholic after another shares their experience, strength and hope. There is a higher power at work--something is at work in these rooms as the faces of the powerless and insane soften and regain colour, their eyes brighten, and they gather confidence and even laugh at the misfortunes which not too long ago plagued them with anxiety and merciless depression. 

A power greater than myself is a power greater than my personality, something bigger than the persona I have settled into and come to ignorantly think of as my whole being on this one plane of existence. The truth is that I start to get healthy when the 12 steps strap me in for the long internal journey. It is a revelation to one day understand that my God, as mysterious as God has been to me, has infused my entire being since forever, and that there was never any division between me and Source or me and others—the division was only in my mind, and grew wider and wider until I couldn't come to any sort of grace through my own efforts. 

But in early recovery it hardly matters how or why it works. I just have to believe that something related to this process will work for me. Getting caught up with the gritty, granular details of higher energy and how it works in early recovery can be deadly. As the Buddha said, "Suppose a man were wounded by an arrow thickly smeared with poison, and his friends and companions brought a surgeon to treat him. The man would say: 'I will not let the surgeon pull out the arrow until I know the name and clan of the man who wounded me; whether the bow that wounded me was a long bow or a cross bow; whether the arrow that wounded me hoof-tipped or curved or barbed." All this would still not be known to that man and meanwhile he would die." 

Didn't I make alcohol my higher power? Wasn't it capable of changing me from my true nature? It tricked me into believing, over and over again, that I could control it. 

The hardest part of all this, of becoming open-minded, is that it demands humility. Humility means seeing things as they really are—not as I want them to be and not as I fear them to be—and to attain humility I have to be able to park my mental habits of seeing myself as either better than or less than other human beings. We the people wander around this globe, classifying and judging and sorting all sorts of impressions, adding value to these impressions, and reinforcing the fallacious belief that we are all separate entities. 

These judgmental thought patterns are ancient and deep-rooted, and it takes a profound spiritual experience (whatever shape that might inhabit; there are as many spiritual experiences as there are creatures on the earth) to lift the veil, even for a moment. 

This is why we must gently, delicately, and thoroughly examine childhood trauma, and the most apt definition of trauma for recovery purposes is "anything less than nurturing," to figure out what our beliefs, feelings and judgements are in relation to the world and ourselves. We will eventually have to deconstruct all these beliefs and judgements, one by one, as well as all the assumptions that they have fertilized over the years. In recovery we can come to understand that just because we have a thought, feeling, or insight, it doesn't mean that this thought, feeling or insight has any basis in reality. 

How do I do this? Just as a scientist would. I conduct an experiment, with my life being the lab. Then I need only observe and note what sort of effect it is having. Part of this is not judging my own beliefs or those of others, but simply take stock of what's in store. I don't need to employ the old habit of putting a (+) positive or (-) negative charge on everything. I need only be open to an honest stocktaking, and accept everything as it is without needing to fix it, manage it, defend it, hide it, or control it. I observe it. And when I start observing, I will very quickly realize that what I am observing, all of it, is constantly shifting, changing, moving. 

In this step we are not being asked to understand or believe anything. We are asked simply to drop denial and judgement so that our minds can open to possibilities that exist. A mind full of stale beliefs has no room for grace. We must empty our minds and open to the possibility that there is an energy operating and that we can invite this energy to manifest itself in our lives. We are also not asked to believe blindly - this type of belief is useless. We are asked to open to possibility and observe and note what changes occur. We become scientists of spirituality, our wrecked lives become our laboratories, and the change that takes place is the spiritual experience that supports the theory that we can, and will, be restored to sanity. All we need is an open mind.

Greater, more powerful insights have come when I am not judging myself or others. Once I accept it, this step shows me, in a very basic way that not just I, but every creature, has the choice of awakening from this seemingly endless dream. This restores hope, and proves, to me at least, that while we must walk our own path, we are never alone in the process. 

Step One

“We admitted that we were powerless over alcohol and that our lives had become unmanageable.”

Spiritual principle: Honesty

The most compelling truth of Step One is that I cannot find recovery from something I cannot acknowledge. I need to bring my powerlessness out from the murky damp depths of my shame-box and into the light of day. Truth, surrender, letting go. Yes, it can be frightening, but this fear is indicative of how healing this step is when taken honestly and thoroughly. 

To get on the path of recovery I needed to take Step One on my own; I didn’t understand this consciously at the time, but this meant that no matter how many times my girlfriend-at-the-moment told me I was a hopeless drunk (begging the question what she was doing with me in the first place) and no matter how many friends and family members expressed their concern regarding the relative shambles my life was in, I was the only one who could make the vital and humbling admission called for in this step. 

Through practice I eventually found out that I would get as much help as I ask for with the other eleven steps — from the fellowship of AA, a sponsor and honest sober friends — but this first step has to be taken solo. I do this by admitting — which is saying, believing and accepting the responsibility that comes with such an ego-deflating statement — that I am powerless over my alcoholism and that my life has become unmanageable.

The Big Book says our drinking was only a symbol of an underlying problem. The 12&12 tells us the root problem is self-centeredness and selfishness, but to an alcoholic on the cusp of recovery, such self-evident truths are not always so simple or apparent. An double-edged admission of both powerlessness and unmanageability is psychically excruciating — it goes against everything we have been telling ourselves over and over and over ad nauseum for years. The unmanageability is often self-evident; for many of us the bleak reality of a life in shambles and the mounting wreckage that is sharply evident in those vital moments of clarity can often pierce even the densest denial. But powerlessness? Do I truly understand what it means to be powerless in the face of alcohol? Because I need to understand, believe, and accept this stark fact with every faculty that is operating (and in early recovery sometimes this is not much). But if I want to stay sober and experientially understand the meaning of serenity, one thing is certain: I have to understand Step One at a cellular level. This means letting go of the rim of the toilet bowl I've been living in and allow myself to be flushed down, through the aperture of honesty, into the vast unknown. What makes this step so difficult and unapproachable for some is the ignorance of what comes after such an admission.

What does it mean to admit powerlessness, other than to admit that on my own, I am lost. Left to my own devices I have repeatedly proven to be hopeless in the face of alcohol. I lacked power, and because of this lack and my unwillingness or inability to accept it (through denial, rationalization and justification) for all the years of my drinking, I left a wide swath of damage in my wake. It’s clear to me now that I could not open myself up to the strength and beauty that is available to me, that lives in and through me, until I could admit that I was defeated and I needed help.

But that admission is just the beginning. The most effective way for me to understand step one was to burn my powerlessness and unmanageability into my consciousness. Because I had reached a place where I was willing to do whatever was suggested, when I was told to write down ten consequences of my drinking, I drafted an honest list of 10 examples of times that drinking alcohol impacted my emotional, mental, social, interpersonal, physical, medical, financial, legal and/or spiritual well-being. I was also asked to write down a list of 10 crazy things I had done, and the lengths I had gone to, for alcohol. Ten examples weren’t difficult to come by, so that list was rather quick. Then I shared these lists with somebody I trusted. It needed to be witnessed, a vital part of the spiritual nature of this program. 

Next I was told I had to learn deeply what tells me my life had become unmanageable. I needed to examine dangerous behaviours that I had engaged in through my abuse of alcohol, which included such things as driving drunk, having unprotected sex, and drinking to the point of alcohol poisoning on many occasions. After I came up with the most obvious examples on my own, I was encouraged to provide even subtler examples of how I had engaged in or experienced any of the following: lack of concentration while driving/working/child minding, seeking or abusing prescription medication, self-medicating, suicidal ideation, suicide attempts.

I was by now ready to admit my life was unmanageable, but apparently I wasn’t done learning about the extent of it, because next I had to survey the effects of my alcoholism on social life, specifically how it affected my relationships, my reputation, my popularity and my contact with friends, family and extended family. 

“Okay, I know I am powerless and my life is unmanageable,” I said. “Not yet,” I was told. For instance, what were the financial, legal, and workplace implications of my drinking behaviours? Have I incurred fines, legal expenses due to my alcoholism/addiction? Have there been effects to my overall personal economy? Has there been a cost to others, through stealing, borrowing, damage to property, or other injury? Have I become materialistic? Have I had issues with drug dealing, drunk driving, theft, fraud, assault, imprisonment or any other legal ramifications from my behaviour? How would others in my place of work describe me? How have I coped with responsibility, performance and reliability on the job?

After all this examination, I was feeling pretty beat. I was so clearly rudderless, so lost and out of control, that the desolate terrain of my own life started to seem oppressive. My powerlessness and unmanageability became an emergency. It was softening the soil of my own mental landscape to make way for the awareness of the spiritual ramifications of my alcoholism. I had to weigh my awareness, my peace of mind, and face the incessant feelings of guilt and shame. I saw how I couldn’t love or care for myself or others, I couldn’t trust myself or others, and I couldn’t value my life and set goals. I witnessed, with more shame, how I had become increasingly selfish and less caring. I was completely out of alignment with the most basic spiritual principles.

A thousand mile journey starts with the first step. We can't move forward without this step. The healing begins with this ego-deflating admission. Nobody can force me to take Step One. Nobody can stop me from taking Step One. This step requires an ongoing awareness. As the oldtimers say: nothing changes if nothing changes. My inability to manage my own life on my own resources, once clear, prepares me deeply for what comes next in Step Two.

An ongoing, daily awareness of Step One is required in my program.  If I meditate on it, I can feel my alcoholism physically residing within me; it's difficult to describe, like shadows lurking in my own cells. My alcoholism to me can be-—at times of low spiritual connection—a theoretical abstraction. But then I remember I knew at one time that my powerlessness and unmanageability were absolutely true, and with some work I can sense its absoluteness. Sometimes it is as if from a distance, an image I see when I look up from my busy day. 

Alternately, when I make even the smallest effort toward self-honesty and what I consider to be prayer, my alcoholism is a sharply defined physical and mental fact, an integral facet of my experience from one moment to the next. I remember that point of no return, the place where the world seemed to drop out from under my feet and alcohol could no longer help the feelings I needed to avoidwhere I stared at a bottle of wine I'd pulled from my knapsack and I was so bone tired I just wanted to flop on my cousin's couch and sleep forever; it was with a mixture of incredulity and horror and panic that I realized no matter how tired I was, I would not be going to bed until that wine was gone. I was alone and knew I didn't want to drink it, really, but that I would not be able to help myself. At that point, and when I think about that point, that's where all the other moments--of disappointing myself and others with broken promises and regret and wasted effort and good (but weak) intentions--that's where all the moments seem to gather. Yes. I am convinced I am powerless over alcohol today.

No, I do not have lingering doubts as to whether I am an alcoholic - today. Nor do I have any doubts about my powerlessness over alcohol. I know that one drink, even one sip, could lead me into oblivion, that all bets would be off, there would be no controlling or imagining what would come after, but I know that I would be getting my passport to the land of shame and remorse back very quickly.

I have proven to myself numerous times that I cannot manage my own life on my own resources; I am routinely — consciously or unconsciously — trying to manage all of my affairs, with my proverbial hands on all the levers: work, home, relationships, expectations. It's uncomfortable and exhausting, and when I lose my connection to this vital awareness of Step One, the wheels start coming off the cart pretty rapidly. Yet the converse is true, as well. When my life starts getting unmanageable again, I can always come back to the spiritual bedrock of Step One with an honest heart, and make a new beginning at this amazing spiritual program. 

The AA program

  

The 12 steps represent the Alcoholics Anonymous' program in its entirety. All of these 12 steps are meant to be practiced as a way of life on an ongoing basis. Thus, if we are not practicing all 12 steps, we are not following the complete program.  Accordingly, we cannot expect all the rewards and promises the program offers.  We may stay sober but deny ourselves the true joy in living, inner peace and the purposeful life we are after.

That, Wine was not imported among us from foreign Countries, to supply the Wand of Water or other Drinks, but because it was a Sort of Liquid which made us merry, by putting us out of Our Senses; diverted all melancholy Thoughts, begat wild extravagant Imaginations in the Brain, raised our Hopes, and banished our Fears; suspended every Office of Reason for a Time, and deprived us the Use of our Limbs, until we fell into a profound Sleep; although it must be confessed, that we always awaked sick and dispirited; and that the Use of this Liquor filled us with Diseases, which made our Lives uncomfortable and short.

-“A Voyage to the Houyhnhnms”,  Gulliver’s Travels, Jonathan Swift

The Power of One Vs. the Power of Oneness

Written by K., my sponsor:

The 12 steps are designed to lead us towards a spiritual awakening - “having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps...”  Essentially, this means we learn to experience life in a new and deeper way. We begin to see beyond the superficial material, physical side of life into its deeper more meaningful aspects. We gain the ability to experience the non-material, intangible, that is to say, to focus on the spiritual side of life. This opens up a great power for change.  

Spiritual living can sound pretty mysterious or ominous, but, it simply recognizes that not all things are things. For example, one cannot see the wind but, we can feel it on our skin and see the leaves rustle in the breeze. Similarly, although love has no physical substance, one can recognize it in action or feel its results.

Becoming consciously aware of non-physical side of life is the essence of spirituality. As we gain insight into it, we see and know ourselves and others from a whole new perspective. The Big Book calls it the “fourth dimension of existence”.  We begin to focus on the similarities between ourselves and others rather than our differences. In other words, we start to connect with our fellows in a new more mature way. As we develop this ability, we begin to see our lives as a small part of a greater whole - a whole of which we are part.  

Developing spiritual awareness brings comfort, peace and harmony into our lives as we are no longer all alone in the limitless universe – we are part of it.  The more we know about the steps and the more we practice them, the greater our connection to the spiritual side of living and the greater our comfort, peace and harmony with ourselves, with others and with our life circumstances.  The 12 steps are specifically designed to make this possible.

Eight Basic Emotions

Most alcoholics miss the instinctual opportunity to embrace change

Pia Mellody breaks the complex web of human sentiment down to eight basic emotions:


ANGER (resentment, irritation, frustration)
FEAR (apprehensive, overwhelmed, threatened)
PAIN (hurt, pity, sad, lonely)
JOY (happy, elated, hopeful)
PASSION (enthusiasm, desire, zest)
LOVE (affection, tenderness, compassion, warmth)
SHAME (embarrassed, humbled)
GUILT (regretful, contrite, remorseful)