When we talk about Step Two, came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity, it can sound like a lightning bolt moment. A flash of certainty. A choir of angels. For some of us, it’s slower, quieter than that.

I recently spoke with an artist in long-term recovery whose journey offers another way of understanding what it means to “come to believe.” Her story unfolds not only in the rooms and Zooms of AA, but in a studio, through layers of paint, ritual, and the steady refusal to pick up a drink.

Born in Seoul in 1979 and now living between Singapore, Seoul, and Los Angeles, she earned her MFA in painting and built an international exhibition career.

But her recovery began somewhere more vulnerable: in art therapy. Addressing ADHD, anxiety, addiction and generational trauma, she found that creative practice gave her a way to metabolise what once felt unbearable. She told me, “I don’t think anything in life is possible without staying away from drinking.”

That is belief, embodied.

Like many of us, she struggled at times with the workbook approach to the Steps. The language didn’t always land. The format didn’t always resonate. But she didn’t walk away. Instead, she grounded sobriety in something tangible. Painting and other artistic media became a daily act of surrender and reconstruction.

She layers, edits, removes, embellishes — grids, implosions, explosions — each mark responding to the last.

Image: Artist Work Darkest Before Dawn, 2016-2018 – Sunny C.

The Alchemy of Staying cont.

It is hard not to hear Step Two in that rhythm: a mind once chaotic slowly finding order. Anxiety processed through repetition. Meaning emerging through practice.

There is humour in that. And wisdom.

Step Two does not require instant certainty. It asks for willingness. For many of us, sanity returns not through a single revelation but through repetition: coffee poured at a meeting, a phone call to a sponsor, a paint and embroidery on canvas, a prayer we’re not sure anyone hears.

“What does it mean to have a solid foundation?” She wondered aloud. “For me, it is meetings, occupational therapy, a sponsor — and art.” Meetings. Outside help. Sponsorship. Creative ritual. Not either/or. Both/and.

In her paintings, she speaks of “vessels” carrying fragile, transient meanings, evolving toward something paradisical.

She is part of the sandwich generation, raising a five—year—old son while caring for aging parents. Life is full. Demanding. Beautiful. And sobriety is the quiet axis around which it all turns.

That feels like recovery, too. We are vessels: cracked, repaired, layered over. Each day sober becomes another stroke in the composition. Some layers obscure what came before while some reveal it. Together they form a history whose legibility may be in question, but whose beauty is undeniable.

Her exhibitions over the years have carried titles like I Need to Believe, New Belief, Renewed Belief, and even, I Came to Believe.

Long before she could articulate Step Two in a meeting, she was painting her way toward it. That’s something we don’t always say out loud: sometimes we come to believe before we can explain what we believe in.

To “come to believe” may simply mean this: to keep showing up long enough for sanity to begin returning. To allow a Power — whether named God, community, art, or love — to work through the steady practices that keep us from picking up the first drink.

For her, belief is less about a fixed theological statement and more about a practice. Show up. Layer by layer. Day by day. Don’t drink. Sit in the meeting even if you’re suspicious. She offers this encouragement to those who struggle with the program at first: “Don’t give up before the miracle happens. You ARE the miracle. And even if you critique the program, an hour spent reviewing and critiquing the program is an hour spent not drinking.”

Belief, like a painting, is rarely finished. But if we stay, if we layer meetings and therapy and sponsorship and whatever healthy practices anchor us, we may find that what once felt like chaos is becoming, slowly, a kind of grace.

“Don’t give up before the miracle happens. You ARE the miracle. And even if you critique the program, an hour spent reviewing and critiquing the program is an hour spent not drinking.” 6

Image: Artist Work When It Gets Mystical, 2016-2018 – Sunny C.

“It really reframed faith in a completely new light for me. Simply put: there is no cost, danger, or risk to coming to believe in a power greater than ourselves.”

We came to believe. For a long time, I struggled with that idea. Belief felt abstract and intimidating, and prayer felt awkward.

I struggled with overthinking and overanalysing. I had pretty much given up hope, thinking that it just wasn’t for me. Here is the story of the unlikely chain of events that eventually led to my coming to believe.

The show also reframed prayer for me in a similar manner. When one character claims that prayer is “just talking to yourself in the dark” the other responds, “it’s more just about connecting with yourself at the end of each day.”

A few months ago, I started watching a new TV show. This show at first seemed like a light, raunchy, mindless comedy. Out of nowhere, however, there was a line that completely rocked me.

That line really spoke to me. I had recently gotten into journaling prior to that and was really enjoying and experiencing its benefits in my life. When I heard that line, my immediate thought was:

For context, the character who said this line was goofy and almost clown—like, and it was during a very lighthearted and laidback scene. I think that because of this, my “spiritual guard” was down, and I was able to receive the message in a relaxed and receptive state of mind. “Why would you believe in something awful when you could believe in something wonderful!?”

“Wait a minute, that’s exactly like journaling— except I don’t need a pen or a notebook or have to worry about writing or lighting or anything else!”

It really reframed faith in a completely new light for me. Simply put: there is no cost, danger, or risk in coming to believe in a power greater than ourselves.

There is everything to gain and nothing to lose, so why would we ever not? It’s such a simple concept and one I’ve heard hundreds of times, but it just took hearing it in this specific way, from this particular angle to really penetrate my walls and make an impact on my coming to believe.