GordonGekko said:
AA isn't for people who need it. It's for those who want it.
Would you mind sharing your story about what happened to you?TIA
OK.... since you asked.... maybe it can help someone else.... Anniversary date is 11/14/1988. My first intro to AA was not in 1988, but around 1980 when I was living in Washington DC. Back in 1980 I was taking lots of drugs (you can pretty much name it and I took it if it
existed back in 1980) and drinking pretty much from noontime 'til past midnight. By all rights, I should have died by 1980, but I got clean and sober down there and that lasted for a couple of years 'til I moved to Massachusetts and decided I'd be OK if I just didn't take drugs and drank, say, only on weekends. Well, to make a long story short, drinking weekends only lasted a little while, then the weekends started to begin on Thursdays, then having a few drinks after work seemed to be a pretty good idea... after a while, I was a noontime drinker, going out to the bars for a liquid lunch.
I had fun with booze for a while - especially in high school. But I was never, ever, a social drinker. I can vividly remember my first drunk and the feeling that I had found something magical - something that, in short, allowed me to feel functional among other people - not socially inept, as I was without the booze. If that sounds familiar to anyone reading this, watch out - it's a very common sentiment among alcoholics in recovery. I never drank socially. When I first heard someone refer to themselves as an "instant alcoholic" after their first drunk, I knew exactly what they were talking about. I drank for effect from the first drunk forward. I could never leave a partially full drink on the bar, and I never really saw any point in just having the proverbial
one or two. By the time I was 20 years old, drinking had become a way of life; that's the best way to put it. It wasn't partying any more; it was just how I lived.
Life had become unmanageable long before I got sober in 1988 but I couldn't see it. One theory of denial I have - strictly my opinion based on my experience and observation - is that each alcoholic has one or two specific things that define an alcoholic to them - and so long as they avoid crossing that imaginary line in their own mind, everything else can be falling apart around them but they won't see it's the booze that's doing it to them. For example, one common notion of the alcoholic is the street person. It's not uncommon to hear recovering alcoholics say that they didn't think they were alcoholics because they thought of an alcoholic as a street person - a bum. And for these people, that's about what it takes for them to get sober... homeless in one way or another, living out of their car, etc... they then meet their own definition of an alcoholic. Now, I paid attention in my health education classes growing up, so I knew an alcoholic could be a white-collar executive - the kind who used to like to tie one on, say, around noontime - but not necessarily a street bum.
These days a growing number of younger people look to the DWI (or OUI depending on jurisdiction) as an indicator of alcoholism. I've heard some people in recovery say they would convince themselves they weren't an alcoholic because they never got arrested for driving under the influence. For me that wasn't an indicator because a lot of my drinking took place before the DWI became a high-quality bust. Back in the '70s, it was not unheard of for a cop to give an intoxicated driver a ride home when he got pulled over. The DWI was a nuisance bust back then for many cops - not sexy at all and not really regarded as a public service. I think MADD had a lot to do with changing that perception. When I was drinking I used to say I was a member of DAMM - Drunks Against Madd Mothers. I drank and drove
every day for years and never got busted for driving under. There were countless mornings I'd get up and have to look outside to see if the car was there. And I was a blackout drinker for years, too, thinking that's just what happened when one got drunk and that was just completely normal. I did have a few accidents while under the influence - in one case the cop asked if I had been drinking and I denied it. He must have smelled it on me, as I had come straight from the bar, but the other party to the accident was a telephone pole that had jumped in front of me and no one was hurt (except me), so he let it go.
I know one recovering drunk whose system of denial told him he wasn't an alcoholic because he hadn't killed anyone while under the influence. He got sober in prison after he finally killed a guy in a blackout in a bar fight. He never remembered killing the guy; he woke up in jail the next day and had to ask why he was there. He did like 15 years at <a href="
http://www.mass.gov/doc/facility/fcedjunc.html">MCI-Cedar Junction</a> the maximum-security prison in Massachusetts.
Me? I told myself I wasn't an alcoholic because (1) I didn't drink in the mornings, and (2) I didn't miss time at work because of my drinking - that is, I reported on time, put in a day's work, was generally functional at work (didn't get fired, etc.). All of that eventually fell apart for me at the end. I can remember going to watch the Boston Marathon one year with some friends and getting introduced to the morning drink when a local bar opened up around 8:30am and fired up their grills on an outdoor patio. In fairness, I never really made a habit of actually drinking beween, say, the hours of 4:00am and 11:30am. And I often did wait until the clock struck noon -
and not a minute after - before resuming my drinking. But I often drank past midnight so that my body's alcohol level could carry me until that time. And my work performance did deteriorate - a lot - at the end. I thought nothing of telling off clients and I got away with that for some time. Finally I said the wrong thing to the wrong client sometime in October of 1988 and I got called into the boss's office, told flat-out, "you have a problem, and you'd better take care of it or I'm going to fire you." That was a BIG warning sign in my own mind - a clear violation of one of those things that told me I was not an alcoholic.
Then one night a guy at my regular bar - and the bar I frequented most often was a really nasty place. People wiped their feet on the way out. You wouldn't get shut off at this place as long as you could say, "Bud". They spewed drunks out onto the road with impunity - one Saturday afternoon I can remember a group of bikers I used to hang with all left to go somewhere as a group and not ten minutes later word came back one of them had an accident after he left and had been cut in half when he hit a pole. Didn't really bother me a bit - that's how emotionally numb I had become. Anyhow, one night this guy I was friends with asked me if I wanted to run with him to Central Falls (RI) to meet up with some Columbians and get some coke and, like a dummy, I said 'sure'. I woke up the next morning with strange people sleeping in my living room, needles in my bathroom.... and I knew the gig was up.
And at this time I was in a relationship with this married woman - a gal ("Elaine") who used to be a regular at that bar I used to hang out at. Her husband hung out at that bar and he knew about us and just didn't care. Just don't bang her in their bed was his only request. I was morally bankrupt at this point. I was miserable, absolutely not happy with my life ("
sick and tired of being sick and tired"), and generally in deep #### - and remember, I've left out A LOT of crap that happened before this.... this is the soft-core stuff, the stuff I will share at an 'open' meeting.
Anyhow, Elaine and I pretty much bottomed out together. I tried to quit drinking on my own and, almost like that first time in my teens when I went a little too long without a cigarette and realized I had grown to need that cigarette, I came to realize I needed that drink and was unable to quit on my own. Meanwhile, life was completely unmanageable and I KNEW it was just a matter of time - not a matter of
if, but
when - until I screwed up again at work and got fired, at which point I would become completely unemployable - and I was already technically unemployable by this point but managed to hold onto the job because the boss had an investment in me and was a little hesitant to just cut me loose without giving me that one chance to straighten out.
Elaine actually took the lead in getting (us) back into AA. Our last weekend of drinking was November 12-13 (Saturday and Sunday), 1988, and was relatively uneventful. By this time she had given me a book she'd bought entitled, "Addictive Drinking" by Clark Vaughan - not AA literature, but it had enough in there to convince me I needed more help than just myself. She found a meeting in a nearby town - for that Monday night, and that was my re-introduction back into AA. It was November 14, 1988, and is the first full day of this current stretch of sobriety. I don't remember much of that meeting - just that it was really, really smoky and I was really, really desperate. I had to ask where to go to get to a meeting the next day - Tuesday - and someone turned me on to a "Big Book" meeting in a nearby town. I went to that and asked where to go Wednesday, etc... somewhere along the line, I picked up a meeting list book and charted out my meetings for the week.
I went to meetings, meetings, meetings.... chased meetings; for about the next seven years I don't think I missed a day. Somewhere in that first year Elaine hooked up with other dude and she moved about 50 miles away and I lost contact with her. I never went back to my old bar - nothing to go back to as far as I was concerned. I never said goodbye to anyone; I was one who just disappeared. That first year was probably the most miserable year in my life - possibly even more miserable than my last year drinking since I had all the "issues" going on but no medication to numb the feelings. What kept me coming? A few things...
First, I was an obstinate SOB and I hated God and I hated everyone I met. It was really
fear that I was feeling but that fear manifested itself as hatred. And I knew everyone hated me, too. I
knew I was going out drinking again sometime. I wanted to follow 'the program' (i.e., the 12-step program of AA) to the letter so when I went out drinking again, I could come back and tell everyone I did everything they said and it didn't work because I went out drinking, so they're all full of ####. I was an ego maniac with an inferiority complex. Two things about this. First, I didn't realize what a HUGE leap of faith that was - how much I was taking for granted - that I COULD come back. I knew I had another drunk in me but I really didn't understand that I may not have another recovery. Secondly, I did not understand that what was VERY important was not what was going on in my screwed up mind,
but what I DID. I was DOING the right things - for all the wrong reasons - but what was important was I was, in fact, doing the right things.
A second factor was one guy ("Henry") in particular. I never got particularly close to Henry, but I'd briefly chat with him every Thursday night. He was about where I'm at now - 18 years continuous sobriety. He would look me in the eye and say, "it gets better" - and I could tell he really believed what he was telling me. That was huge. He wasn't saying you have to do this or that (like some do). He wasn't judgmental and didn't try to persuade me of anything. He'd just ask, "how's it going", and me, believing full well that no one really gave a crap, would respond with "just fine", and he'd look me in the eye and reply with a smile, "it gets better." That was the extent of our conversation for lots of nights. But I could tell he was happy; I could tell he knew how I felt, knew where I was at, and that he really believed "things" would get better. Henry, as much as anyone, gave me real
hope. And the hell of it is, he may not even know how important his short little comments were to me early on. I haven't seen him in years and it's only within the last few years that I have understood his impact. I later learned what "fine" stood for (f'd up, insecure, neurotic, and emotional), and that 'things' didn't get better, but
I did.
Anyhow, every year has gotten progressively better for me. I became very active with one group in particular and that group was very active with the prisons. My second sponsor was a prison rep with Central Service in Boston and I started to go on prison 'commitments' with this guy on a monthly basis. You can't go into a prison on one of these commitments if you have a record (and they check) - luckily I had never been busted, but I had done a lot of the same stuff that these guys had done who were in prison. You can't wear jeans or sneakers and no black-on-white color combos when you go into a prison. Also leave your jewelry and wallet behind. I've been to just about all the prisons here in Massachusetts speaking on these 'commitments'. Even been inside the women's prison MCI-Framingham) a few times. In the bigger prisons they'll typically meet in the cafeteria - there'll be a few hundred prisoners who come - and all but maybe two or three will be there ONLY to get out of their cells. That means you're standing up in front of a few hundred inmates and you know that of those few hundred, there's only two or three who really want to hear you and you don't know who they are.
I can tell you this, though... it's that kind of stuff that has helped to keep ME sober. And on a couple of occasions so far, I have been approached at meetings on the outside by strangers who remembered me speaking when I came to speak when they were incarcerated there. And they remembered me over a year later. It's like, a guy will come up to me and say....
Him: "Are you johnny?"
Me: yup....
Him: "Did you speak at MCI-Concord like... a year ago last April?"
Me: .... Uhhh... could be..... lemme think... yeah, I think I did... Tuesday evening meeting, right?
Him: "yeah, that was it..... I remember you... it was good to hear you when you came."
It's that kind of stuff that just blows me away when it happens.
I've met lots and lots of people along the way in the last 18 years. In addition to the prisons, I have spoken at detox units, mental hospitals, and lots of meetings in greater New England. I have also attended and spoken at meetings in Nova Scotia, Quebec, New Brunswick, as well as in certain cities around the U.S., including New York, Washington DC, New Orleans, Chicago, Nashville, Boca Raton, Charlottesville, Denver, Indianapolis, and probably a few others I forgot about.
In these meetings I have met all types.... doctors, lawyers, cops, priests, street bums, guys living out of their cars, one guy who was a tanker captain (Norweigan) who sobered up after he managed to run his super-tanker aground up in Alaska, airline captains (yup... they used to fly intoxicated), fashion models, religious fanatics, atheists, pretty much any walk of life you can think of, I've met them. Of these, a few have been truly remarkable.... one was my first sponsor in sobriety. Of all the people I've met, he is still probably one of the most
'spiritually fit' people I have ever met in my whole life (and that includes priests and ministers), and I can honestly say it was a privilege to know this guy. His name was Bob Reidy; I can use his full name because he's dead now. In those first few years of recovery, he spent many, many hours on the phone with me - often 'til late at night - trying to help me get my head out of my ###. He was also a member of my closed 12-step group and we would often talk in the parking lot for several hours after meetings. He didn't necessarily show me the same kind of hope that someone like Henry did... but he was absolutely instrumental in helping me in understanding the 12 steps, in understanding what I was feeling and how to react to those feelings, and generally how to live a sober life. I had very few truly "light" conversations with Bob Reidy.... even when we joked around, he managed to work in one of life's lessons into the mix. I owe him a debt of gratitude that can only be repaid by helping others the way he helped me.
So in the last 18 years, my life has changed tremendously. When I first got sober, I was really incapable of carrying on any meaningful relationship. I was angry and hated people. Toward the end of my first year of sobriety, that same boss made the mistake of asking if I liked my job, and I gave him an honest answer.... "No, I don't, and I'd really like to be somewhere else within a year." That's how my consulting career began.

Since that time, I've gotten two master's degrees - both with highest honors. I've gotten married, we built the house we presently live in, and we have 3 kids. I learned to fly and I bought and still own a Piper Cherokee PA-28-180. Not a big plane, but I enjoy it, and it doesn't bust the bank to own it. Most importantly, I have found joy in my life - joy in my ability to give back to others, rather than being a
taker. Henry used to say if I stuck with it, my life would be better than anything I could possibly imagine.... looking back where I was at the time, I am starting to see what he was talking about.
And I cannot take full credit for staying sober, either, so please... no congratulations. I can take credit for doing the legwork, yes. But it is very much the power of a group of drunks that has allowed me to recover and to learn how to enjoy living life sober. I kept showing up - that's what I can take credit for. Showing up is a prerequisite to recovery, but the actual process of recovery is very much a group effort.
It's still one day at a time, and today is just another day. When the thought of going out and having a drink crosses my mind, I know my life will change forever if I go down that path. I will lose my wife, my kids, my job... myself. Then I think to myself, "I'll have that drink tomorrow." It's OK to have that drink tomorrow. Just don't have it today... that's what one day at a time means to me.