Carrying the Message

When I took my "fearless" moral inventory, I thought I would have a nervous breakdown. I had to go at it in stages, not only because of the awful threat to myself I felt when coming to grips with my first thirty or so defects, but because my inventory uncovered nothing that was moral, nothing that wasn't really a disguised part of something worse. On top of that, I had never healed a single wound; every hurt was still open and raw, so much so that it was to me a ghastly sight in retrospect, filled with all the pain attending the actual experience--especially the mad words, the shouts and curses that echoed like shock waves in the emotional hells of my memory.