This morning, I opened “The Word Pool” to the adjective “Emaciated.” I wanted to choose something different, but no – go with the first one you see. So, I then turned to the nouns, and my finger landed on “Judgment.” I typed those two words on this screen and let my thoughts roll. Here is what came:

Emaciated Judgment

“Can you think of anyone, if you’re honest with yourself, that you don’t have advice for?” Patrick asks this question of alcoholics, and I watch them say, “Yes,” and they’ll want to name a person and defend the response, but then Patrick tells them to get honest …, and as the person reflects over their life, a light comes on – if they’re honest. The truest answer is, “No.” We have advice for every person we encounter – every person but ourselves. And I turn the question inward – “Is there anyone in your life, Dacia, that you don’t have advice for?” Even when I walk through Lowe’s or sit at a table at the Cracker Barrel, I find myself sitting in judgment of most every person I see. If I’m honest, I can and will admit that.

This is especially true of an alcoholic. We believe we are different; we don’t fit. It certainly cannot be anything wrong with us – it must be everyone else, and the blame game is a way of life. If you wouldn’t. If he didn’t. If. If. If. Every other person needs to change in our emaciated judgment. Our alcoholic judgment, which pulls the victim card and waves it high and proud. It’s you; it’s not me. Poor me, and I drink, I shop, I seek attention, I pick up drugs … I’m saying “I” as a stand-in for all alcoholics.

We have an illness of a spiritual, physical, and mental nature. If we straighten out spiritually, the mental and physical straighten out naturally. But this is a hard thing to accept; it is an even harder thing to put into action. Taking steps to sort out the spiritual illness – first admitting it exists and second being willing to get honest about ourselves, our insecurities, our fears, our judgment – this is where the ‘rubber hits the road’ for an alcoholic who desires recovery. It is work.

I see the commercials on TV now for a pill you can take to help you stop drinking. I know alcoholics who take these medications, and hear me, please, these are Band-Aids. They are Big Pharma taking advantage of people who do not want to put in work, who do not want to take the steps, who want to (taking a phrase from the Big Book) rest on their laurels and have their problem solved without any actual change occurring inside. It is too uncomfortable to do the work in AA, which requires the individual to do work on self, to step away from that emaciated judgement I spoke of earlier, into an acceptance of the reality of who he or she is in the scope of life and recognition of the spiritual illness which only a higher power can resolve. The thing about this intense and discomforting work is that the result on the other side, once the steps are taken with willingness and honesty, is well … serenity.

On page 77 of the 12 & 12 (Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions), it says, “Learning how to live in the greatest peace, partnership, and brotherhood with all men and women, of whatever description, is a moving and fascinating adventure.” We read those words at the dining room table this last week as we sat with a recovering alcoholic going through the steps, and I wrote the words down on a piece of paper. This is a moving and fascinating adventure indeed! The book goes on to say, “Every AA has found that he can make little headway in this new adventure of living until he first backtracks and really makes an accurate and unsparing survey of the human wreckage he has left in his wake.”  A little later in the paragraph, it says, “But if a willing start is made, then the great advantages of doing this will so quickly reveal themselves that the pain will be lessened as one obstacle after another melts away.” Ahhhhhh … that’s what the work produces – the melting away of all that keeps an alcoholic sick – those things that are hidden deep inside, that no one knows, that the alcoholic doesn’t even know until the work is done.

When Patrick asks that question, “Can you think of anyone, if you’re honest with yourself, that you don’t have advice for?”, now, on the other side of recovery, I find I still do have advice for most people I encounter, but I’m quickly able to remind myself that most people, in fact, all people, are actors on the stage – we all participate in our own play where we believe we have control, though we are but actors. We want to manage the lights, the scenery, the other players, and the lines people say. We imagine ourselves as the director, but we are not – and we try to assume that role – and we sit in judgment because the other actors do not do what it is that we want them to do, and we find ourselves angry – and some of us take this to an extreme, and we drink over it.

Here I smile – today’s “The Word Pool” choice was emaciated judgment, and this often-had conversation from my dining room table is where that word combo took me immediately. When I sit in judgment of others, forgetting that they are also actors trying to control a show, I feel different, insecure, and my judgment is based on corrupted feelings where my base instincts are affected, afflicted, and I become defensive. I am set apart, and I put myself in a corner with hackles up and ready to fight – though most likely I’ll destroy myself along with everyone I encounter, especially those closest to me. This is not based on healthy, recovered thinking. It is emaciated – withered, shrunken, gaunt … weak judgment. It is a spiritual sickness.

As a recovered alcoholic, I know that apart from staying in fit spiritual condition, my judgment quickly becomes emaciated. I must do the work to stay in connection with my higher power, which for me is the God of the Universe who cares about me so much that He sent His Son into this world to die, to become a sacrifice, the only sacrifice that would suffice to save those who call upon His name. That is my personal belief and understanding based on my reading and research – based on my experience, strength, and hope. I cannot and will not push that (that you must do or believe exactly as I do) on anyone else – on you. Take your own journey to ‘serenity’ – perhaps through a pill – doubtful it will happen truly, but hey, you do you. Or find your own path to a higher power by realizing that you, in your own power, cannot turn emaciated judgment into serenity of heart, mind, soul, and body. You can try, but you’ll drive yourself to the depths of insanity. Step Two in the Big Book says this, “2. Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.” There’s something to this – and I can preach on it, but at this point, I remind myself that each of us has to truly come to this realization on our own – out of desperation for wholeness – or it doesn’t stick. Do it or don’t. Right?

Patrick also says, after taking people through the steps, “Don’t get mad at me six months down the road, if I make more use of this information than you do.”

Eek.

But he’s not wrong.

So, Dacia, today, where is your judgment at? Is it through the lens of your higher power where you recognize that every person you encounter struggles through this life just like you do, so grace and compassion are a must? Or will I not set my mind right, stay in a state of ‘I’m the one in charge,’ and want to direct every person I encounter to do my bidding and find myself feeling crazy because no one will do what I want?

It is a choice.

“Emaciated Judgment” – The Word Pool Prompt for May 23, 2026.

Using the word pairing, write a sentence, a story, a poem, or draw a sketch, paint a picture. Set your mind free and create. Post it here. Post it there. Post it wherever. Only, please tag it #thewordpool so I can enjoy it with you. Happy creating!

This adjective/noun combo comes to you directly out of “The Word Pool” – I didn’t cheat. I opened the book, took the first adjective I randomly selected with my finger (without looking), and then I turned to the noun section and randomly selected a noun with my finger (again, without looking). Maybe I wanted to choose something different, but no, we go with those FIRST finger-chosen words!  Ta-da! It’s that complicated.   Now, we write or draw; whichever we do, we create!

~ Dacia Cunningham, creator of “The Word Pool: Quiet Chaos: A Creative Writing Toolkit / Game of Words, Meaning, and Imagination.”