Honesty is important in recovery. Honestly, right now I really miss drinking - not getting drunk - just drinking beer & bourbon. I feel the same way about smoking, sometimes. I know it’s worth it, and I’m not going to drink, but sometimes this shit is fucking hard. ...
As I drive down Maryland Route 140 from Westminster toward I795, the sun sets in the rear-view mirror. For years I tried to let the sun set on my youth. I felt out of step with the world growing up in rural Maryland. And in a lot of ways, I was out of step with the world. But now, I’m finding that venturing back to where I grew up is not as painful as I might have imagined it. I’ve just had an amazing reunion with a very special teacher, one who saw something in me and helped me set my life on a better path in high school. Through the miracles of technology, we have been reunited and have kept up with each other over the past 8 years or so. We met one other time, before I went off the rails. ...
"As we seek balance in our meditation practice as well as in our lives in recovery, one of the things we have to look out for is this tendency toward extremes." (1) When I first started to contemplate the 12 steps, I struggled mightily with language that I perceived as evangelical. If you're anything like me, you may have struggled with specific words too, perhaps God and Him. I counted the number of steps that talked about something related to God and came up with 6 that used these words. I gave Step 12 a pass even though I thought spiritual awakening sounded a little too much like being saved. I saw things as absolutes. Black and white. On or off. Binary. And I was repulsed. All I wanted was to stop drinking, I didn’t want to fall down some rabbit hole and become a holy roller. People told me that I didn’t have to believe anything in particular. I heard incredibly stupid things, like, “you can make a light bulb your higher power if you want.” ...
I’m sorry, I don’t recall your name. See, I wasn’t expecting you to jump into a diatribe about how God doesn’t exist and that willpower is the only reason why Erin was able to be celebrating her 4 years of sobriety last night and that we should all be mindful that this program only works for a very small minority. You kind of pissed me off. I kind of let you piss me off. ...
Blood boiled in my veins. My spinning head felt hot. A rushing sensation in my tightening chest. No doubt about it, I was angry. I was on the edge of explosion. It was time to leave the house. ...
You may be expecting this to be a treatise on anonymity and social media or an argument for recovering out loud. It isn’t. Sorry to disappoint you. I’m writing to share my experience, so that you might avoid it if you’re newly sober. See, when I got sober, I didn’t give my social media much thought. I just started following people in recovery and tweeting from my original account. Same thing with Instagram. ...
February 27 Into the fabric of recovery from alcoholism are woven the Twelve Steps and the Twelve Traditions. – Daily Reflections: A Book of Reflections by A.A. Members for A.A. Members (Kindle Location 447). I really enjoy the phrase, “fabric of recovery.” This morning, I spent most of my meeting thinking about this phrase and struggling to put together coherent thoughts about it. There were many ideas that came to mind – connectedness, frayed ends, raw fibers, oneness – And I just couldn’t put it all together to share with the group. ...
My first experience with booze was pretty miserable. I was probably about 13 years old or so when a friend came over to my house while my parents were not home. Never one to miss an opportunity to misbehave, he suggested that we should get drunk. We locked my brother out of the house and proceeded to raid my parents liquor stash. In order to assure that they wouldn’t notice, my friend suggested that we take a little from each bottle and combine them all into a tumbler. Then we took shots. Imagine, if you will, a concoction that included (minimally) the following: vodka, bourbon, creme de mint, liquor 43, peach schnapps and possible tequila. It is a wonder I didn’t hurl on the first drink. We got good and drunk. ...
On Twitter, I’ve been fairly open about the fact that I’ve had some concerns with “the program” as of late. In meetings, I’ve said things like, “I’m not sure this program is right for me,” or “I don’t have a problem with a Higher Power, but I do have a problem with what the author wrote,” in reaction to readings from Daily Reflections. Over the past few days, I’ve given this a lot of thought and I think I’ve come to terms with what’s been niggling me. It’s true that I don’t have a problem believing in a higher power, or a God if that’s what you call it. I actually attend church on a relatively regular basis, though I will confess that there are things about it that get under my skin. What I have been struggling with is that I feel that there is an under current of fundamentalist evangelicalism in some of the AA literature that I’ve been reading. There seems to be a notion of “being saved” by a power greater than me – a notion of redemption. And that is exactly what doesn’t sit well with me. I posted this to StopDrinking on Reddit last night and got some good feedback. A few people suggested that perhaps I was reading too much into things. And maybe I am. I don’t know. What I do know is that I have never bought in to the idea of being saved. I believe too strongly in the idea of freedom of will and in personal responsibility to accept the notion that a higher power can “save” me. ...
This past week has been a whirlwind of activity, thoughts, and a bit of confusion. I left for my annual sales conference in Miami on Wednesday of last week. I consciously chose not to get up for my morning meeting because I knew that I had a long day ahead of me filled with airplanes, Uber rides, meetings, cocktail hour, and a dinner. Wait, what? Cocktail hour? Sober people go to cocktail hours? Yes, sometimes we do when we have a good reason to be there, and a work event is generally a good reason. That doesn’t mean that we drink, it just means we show up. Sometimes you have to suit up and show up. So I went to cocktail hours on Wednesday and Thursday of last week, and had non-alcoholic drinks. My non-alcoholic drinks of choice were, club soda and lime, Red Bull, Ginger Ale, and Espresso. The meetings were generally good. I found that I was much more able to focus on the content being presented because I was actually present. I wasn’t hungover. I wasn’t sick. I wasn’t tired. I actually had a pretty good time and tweeted about it: ...
The thoughts that I’d been having over the past few days stuck with me into the evening yesterday. Despite my best efforts to occupy my mind with other things including listening to music, playing my acoustic guitar, opening up my electric guitar to see if I could fix it (it’s busted and probably will not be worth repairing), and taking a long walk in the cold air, I had trouble shaking those thoughts. So, I went to a meeting. And that helped. As I walked into the meeting I thought to myself, “I sure hope this speaker is a good one.” And she was. She had a story to tell, but more importantly she was good at conveying a message of hope. I went to bed last night with good thoughts in my mind. And then this morning came around. ...
I won’t say that there’s no chance of me ever drinking again for a couple of reasons: First, relapse happens. I pray that it doesn’t happen to me, but I am conscious that it could. Second, modern science has shown that a majority of heavy drinkers can moderate successfully. I know that goes against the 12-step doctrine, but the doctrine was written nearly 80 years ago – when there wasn’t a great deal of good science on the subject. ...
I shared my story for the first time as the speaker at a meeting last night. I was nervous at first. Who wouldn’t be? When you share your story, you’re bearing your soul – to a room full of people that you don’t know. But there’s magic in those rooms. The people who fill them understand each other in ways that those on the outside simply do not. Once I got started, I fell into an easy cadence and was able to speak with clarity and confidence. ...
Today marks three months since I traded in my drinking shoes for a pair of sober boots. “It’s taken me a long time to get here." That’s what I said when I introduced myself at the first meeting. In fact, it’s all I said. Defeated, I was surrendering. My healing began that day, though I didn’t know or recognize it. I have been fortunate in my recovery, I’ve undergone trans-formative healing in a short period of time. Others have told me that it took years for them to see the progress I’ve made in a few short months. ...
Two months ago today, I walked into the old sanctuary on the grounds of a local Presbyterian church. The worn but functional building is no longer the main place of worship and now serves as a meeting place for a variety of groups and activities. I was there for the Wake Up East meeting of AA. I’ll never be able to fully express the sheer terror that I felt as I sat there, defeated and worn out like the floorboards of that hall that are covered in places with blue masking tape. I knew that I’d reached the end of the line. As I sat there before the meeting started I felt completely alone. I was no longer willing to hang on to the idea that I might be able to moderate my drinking. The past several years had already proven the impossibility of that plan. I was starting to accept that reality. And still, abstinence seemed impossible. ...