August 28th 1987 I decided to "do this thing" without any idea what that meant at the time. Twenty two years later, and somebody something somepower has decided I still have a seat in the rooms; I still have my sobriety.
If I back up a few weeks before that date, a typical night was at least some beers in my system. I had a job, and pretended to maintain my sanity. But I was still drinking every night. Coupled with about a gram of crystal meth every day in order to maintain that "sanity".
Jim was due out of detox. This was a Tuesday night, the 25th of '87. I meet a lot of people now coming out of rehab on this side of the fence, where they are torn between meetings and their friends. On that side of the fence, I knew the score. The score was to stock up, because after seven days of detox, Jim was supposed to be ready to drink. I bought a bottle of something, probably tequila. It was a fifth I know. And a twelve pack. Working through all that alcohol by myself, in the park under a tree, because Jim never answered the phone, I went and bought a second round. This time it was a six pack. And one of those smaller bottles of tequila.
It's a bit weird to know all this. My days at this point pretty much ran together, drinking in a bar, buying speed from my neighbor Mike, passing out and going to work in the morning. But this night I remember clearly.
I ended up at a meeting the next night with Jim. This was the Heil St Group, and it was my home group for seven years. It was three plus years before I missed a Wednesday night meeting there. Ellery and Helen took their birthday. I sat next to a piano against the back wall. I remember nothing yet I can not forget anything about that night. I wish I knew what it was that connected. What I do remember clearly is going into the bathroom, either during or after the meeting. I went to do some more speed. And decided I didn't have to. That maybe this AandA thing can help me kick the dope.
The next day, Thursday, I went to work. I had my beer at lunch and talked about the meeting with Lyle and Dale and whoever else was there at the bar. I decided to give it a try. Of course we know what "my best thinking" does, because I decided to have a "going away" party that night. One last bender before I quit.
Somebody something somepower had other plans for me. Because I went to a meeting that night again.
That next day, Friday, I went to work. I even went to the bar at lunch. I remember wanting a beer and I remember not having one. It bothered me. I went home and finished off what was left of my speed. And I went to a meeting again that night. That was Friday, and my first day of sobriety.
(once in a long while I nitpick. Technically, I was still on that last bit of speed on the 28th. My last drink was on the 27th. I was told to pick a sobriety date and stick with it. It was a few weeks after that meeting, when I realized we had chips for thierty days and for newcomers and such, that I looked back on the calendar to figure it out. So the 28th has always been my sobriety date)
You don't get here from there. you just don't.
Yet here I am.
I get to share my story from the podium in a few weeks. That's always a weird mix of ego and gratitude. Sort of the same as writing on here. I somehow always forget to really get into the "what it's like now" part from the podium. I don't dwell on the drinking, but I do tend to concentrate on the mistakes I've made, both in and out of the program. Perhaps because I am still learning from them.
Anyway, to get on with it, let me explore some of what this past year has been like.
Lonely. Disruptive. Chaotic. Spiritual. Wonderful. Grateful.
In other words, just like any other year. I have a life I have never dreamed of. The steps have taken me into paths I once again never dreamed of or realized I wanted. I grow through pain, like all of us. But I also grow through joy. I have begun again to feed of of it, to water and nurture the joy and let it grow. I lived in my car a few weeks last year, and reached out to newcomers like my life depended on it (because it did). My situation has stablized again, and I still reach out to newcomers in the same way. I have bad days at work and I make amends because I have to. I make mistakes at work and I apologize because I want to, because I want to be helpful. I surrender to my someone something somepower because I am miserable. I surrender my life and my difficulties to that someone something somepower because it is an incredible freedom and I build on that feeling and layer on top of it and climb higher.
If I have ever read your horoscope at the Metro this past year; ever asked you again your name, because I have a lousy memory; sat across from you at a meeting or offered you a cigarette or hugged you after the IHOP; if I've texted you this past year or sent a note here or on myspace, or ever looked at you and smiled or just whined about my day to you, I thank you for being a part of this thing with me.
you continue to teach me and I am indebted.
August 27, 2009
August 19, 2009
Homework
So I am sponsoring two people now. If that makes no sense to you, don't worry about it. I assigned homework to them this week, and realized immediately it was an assignment i should also do for myself.
"What sort of thinking dominates an alcoholic who repeats time after time the desperate expirement of the first drink? Friends who have reasoned with him after a spree which has brought him to the point of divorce or bankruptcy are mystified when he walks directly into a saloon. Why does he? Of what is he thinking?" ~page 35 of the big book
This is actually a bit difficult to analyze without going on tangent after tangent about my drinking history. I want to focus on those first drinks of a spree though; those times I walked out the door for a beer knowing I had already committed to stop or at least slow down. Even the words above "desperate expirement of the first drink" throw me off into a tangent! I needed a drink; I needed a sip, a taste, just something to take the edge off. I was in all sense of the word, desperate.
Let me give some examples.
I was in a state conservation program. To sum it up nicely, it was boot camp for hippies. We went out in the woods and made fire trails. We chopped down invasive cypress trees and burned them (in the July heat). We got up early and did calistentics (sp?) and stretching exercises. We ran out of cigarettes in a week, got to feeling really healthy after two. After about six weeks, we graduated and went to Tahoe to work. And they gave us a paycheck.
I got to drinking that very night. What was my thinking? That it had been weeks, and i needed a drink of course! But I can recall now the whole idea of joining that program was to dry out and to get healthy and to start doing better. That thinking was out the window at the first opportunity. Within a week (was it two, perhaps?) I was suspended because of my drinking. Had to spend a week living in the laundromat (and already broke). I got back and got another check in a week.
My duties at this point were to make breakfast for the hundred or so, clean up, and show back up to make dinner. I had the day free. I went to the bar for a drink. Here I am, already suspended and back, and heading out to do the same thing! I knew the consequences, and I sure as hell knew that when I drank, I could not stop. What was I thinking? In this case I cannot honestly remember. Of course I came back about four, and napped. I napped right through dinner. I napped right until they came into my room and started packing my bags and sending me on my way.
Lets try another example.
Any typical Sunday that last year of my drinking. l'd sleep in as long as possible. I would hide in my room even longer. Late afternoon I would come around and glue myself to the tv. I knew I had to get a drink, and I would fight it all day long. Up until 9pm or even 10pm. Then I would go to the bar, once again, for that "desperate expirement". Inevitably what followed was a hungover Monday morning at best. Why does he? Simply put I needed to. I understood that from my very first meeting. Very early on I even understood that self knowledge was not keeping me sober no matter how much I tried.
Let's search out one more example for good measure.
Halloween of '86. My last drink was not quite a year away but i always consider that the starting point for my last year of miserable lonely drinking; the point where I stopped caring, stopped trying to quit; where I knew im my heart without having been to a meeting or reading the words, that I was headed for jails, institutions or death. My friends were having a birthday party I wasn't invited to. I showed up anyway. They blocked me at the door, first one person then another. I was arguing. I told them to get Karen since it was her birthday and she was a real friend. She wouldn't come to the door. But she passed word that if i didn't drink I could come in.
Here was a chance. I wanted to be normal, to be accepted and to be a part of. I wanted to be with my friends and to have fun. They were done with my drinking. So what did I do? I swore at them and went to a bar instead. I cannot tell you what the excuses really were, what my thinking was. I had to drink. The guilt and the depression and the hopelessness and the consequences did not ever outweigh the need of my body to ingest alcohol. The first step is easy to admit. That alone never got me sober.
"What sort of thinking dominates an alcoholic who repeats time after time the desperate expirement of the first drink? Friends who have reasoned with him after a spree which has brought him to the point of divorce or bankruptcy are mystified when he walks directly into a saloon. Why does he? Of what is he thinking?" ~page 35 of the big book
This is actually a bit difficult to analyze without going on tangent after tangent about my drinking history. I want to focus on those first drinks of a spree though; those times I walked out the door for a beer knowing I had already committed to stop or at least slow down. Even the words above "desperate expirement of the first drink" throw me off into a tangent! I needed a drink; I needed a sip, a taste, just something to take the edge off. I was in all sense of the word, desperate.
Let me give some examples.
I was in a state conservation program. To sum it up nicely, it was boot camp for hippies. We went out in the woods and made fire trails. We chopped down invasive cypress trees and burned them (in the July heat). We got up early and did calistentics (sp?) and stretching exercises. We ran out of cigarettes in a week, got to feeling really healthy after two. After about six weeks, we graduated and went to Tahoe to work. And they gave us a paycheck.
I got to drinking that very night. What was my thinking? That it had been weeks, and i needed a drink of course! But I can recall now the whole idea of joining that program was to dry out and to get healthy and to start doing better. That thinking was out the window at the first opportunity. Within a week (was it two, perhaps?) I was suspended because of my drinking. Had to spend a week living in the laundromat (and already broke). I got back and got another check in a week.
My duties at this point were to make breakfast for the hundred or so, clean up, and show back up to make dinner. I had the day free. I went to the bar for a drink. Here I am, already suspended and back, and heading out to do the same thing! I knew the consequences, and I sure as hell knew that when I drank, I could not stop. What was I thinking? In this case I cannot honestly remember. Of course I came back about four, and napped. I napped right through dinner. I napped right until they came into my room and started packing my bags and sending me on my way.
Lets try another example.
Any typical Sunday that last year of my drinking. l'd sleep in as long as possible. I would hide in my room even longer. Late afternoon I would come around and glue myself to the tv. I knew I had to get a drink, and I would fight it all day long. Up until 9pm or even 10pm. Then I would go to the bar, once again, for that "desperate expirement". Inevitably what followed was a hungover Monday morning at best. Why does he? Simply put I needed to. I understood that from my very first meeting. Very early on I even understood that self knowledge was not keeping me sober no matter how much I tried.
Let's search out one more example for good measure.
Halloween of '86. My last drink was not quite a year away but i always consider that the starting point for my last year of miserable lonely drinking; the point where I stopped caring, stopped trying to quit; where I knew im my heart without having been to a meeting or reading the words, that I was headed for jails, institutions or death. My friends were having a birthday party I wasn't invited to. I showed up anyway. They blocked me at the door, first one person then another. I was arguing. I told them to get Karen since it was her birthday and she was a real friend. She wouldn't come to the door. But she passed word that if i didn't drink I could come in.
Here was a chance. I wanted to be normal, to be accepted and to be a part of. I wanted to be with my friends and to have fun. They were done with my drinking. So what did I do? I swore at them and went to a bar instead. I cannot tell you what the excuses really were, what my thinking was. I had to drink. The guilt and the depression and the hopelessness and the consequences did not ever outweigh the need of my body to ingest alcohol. The first step is easy to admit. That alone never got me sober.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)