Many of us have watched as babies take their first steps. The mother holds the child on its feet. The father kneels nearby with outstretched arms, encouraging the little one, his face flooded with devotion. The baby takes a few small steps toward its father. An older brother and sister cheer the tyke on. Baby falls down. Its mother, murmuring words of comfort, picks the child up and starts over again. This time, baby stays up until it is close enough to fall into the safety of its father's arms.

As newcomers, we arrive in the rooms of NA much like this small child. Accustomed to living a life crippled by addiction, full of fear and uncertainty, we need help to stand. Just like a child beginning its march toward adulthood, we take our halting first steps toward recovery. We learn to live this new way of life because others who have gone before us encourage and comfort us by telling us what worked-and what didn't work-for them. Our sponsor is there for us when we need a push in the right direction.

Many times we feel like we can't take another step in recovery. Just like a child learning to walk, we sometimes stumble or fall. But our Higher Power always awaits us with outstretched arms. And like the child's brothers and sisters shouting their encouragement, we, too, are supported by other NA members as we walk toward a full life in recovery.

"I am my own worst enemy."

We've heard some version of this sentiment from addicts with four days clean, four years, and four decades. "I'm judge, jury, and executioner for myself" is another version of the same sentiment. We struggle with feelings of worthlessness, self-pity, crippling fear. Our disease tells us that we are "not enough" or even that we're unlovable. We remind ourselves of our considerable mistakes or obsess about minor ones. When these thoughts are most rampant, we tend to isolate ourselves from the world, protecting others from having to deal with us and protecting ourselves from having to deal with them. But we've also heard, "An addict's mind is a dangerous neighborhood. You shouldn't wander around it alone."

Self-compassion is one remedy for self-obsession. What does that look like? It's giving ourselves some slack. It's acknowledging, at least for a moment, that we are doing the best we can. It's channeling some of that kindness we more freely extend to others toward ourselves. As we grow, we learn to redirect ourselves toward compassion when we go through difficult times, don't meet our own standards, or feel unworthy of love. We can be gentle with ourselves—and get out of our own way.

Compassion allows us to move forward. We see our value more clearly and are able to exit the "bad neighborhood" of our minds more readily. Getting out of our heads gets us out in the world where we are useful to others. In fact, being of service to others is another key remedy to the mess in our minds.

It takes practice to stop berating ourselves for every struggle and misstep. Even with years of recovery, we aren't always our most trusted ally, but with some compassion, we can switch from the enemy camp.