–The love we give away is the only love we keep. ~ Elbert Hubbard
Personally, I believe that Alcoholism is a genetically transmitted disease.
Yup, it’s all in the family.
…God knows, It’s all over my family.
I didn’t catch this off a toilet seat in some overcrowded, steamy Third World country.
And I didn’t morph into alcoholism by imbibing one too many warm beers at tailgate parties.
I’ll wager that if you shook your family tree hard enough, several alkys & addicts will topple out.
I don’t want to brag, but with all the alcoholism in my family, I never had a prayer.
When I showed up at my first meeting, it occurred to me that I might have a problem
…not that I was overqualified for the position.
Here’s the Rub:
Before I made it to Alcoholics Anonymous, for all intents and purposes,
I was an Earth Person.
I knew nothing about alcoholism, alcoholics, addicts…or any of that jazz.
…Nor did I care to.
As a matter of fact, the first time I heard that alcoholism was a disease, my attitude was,
“Give me a Break!
“Just because those people can’t control themselves and ruin everyone’s good time, they pawn it off on being some ‘Disease’…what a load of crap.”
To me, a disease was something like, tuberculosis, cancer, malaria or leprosy.
Now those were respectable diseases I could get behind.
Then, as it usually does, fate intervened.
Finally, I hit rock bottom, and I agreed to be escorted to my first meeting.
Some unfortunate souls are dragged into Alcoholics Anonymous with a total lack of acceptance, just waiting for the day they can give “controlled drinking” another try.
I don’t care who you are. If you’re a legitimate alcoholic with addictive tendencies, ‘controlled drinking’ never works out.
‘Controlled anything ’ never seems to pan out.
I didn’t have any problem reconciling myself to my alcoholism.
As a matter of fact, it explained a lot: I always knew something was the matter,
but I never quite knew exactly what.
I always had the distinct impression that I was on the outside of life, looking in.
And now the unkindest cut of all: I was one of “those people.”
And the more I found out about alcoholism, the more I came to accept the whole “disease” premise. Furthermore, I found out that my alcoholism is not a moral issue.
It’s amazing the things you can learn when you show up and pay attention.
I’ve been an AA member in good standing ever since.
Here’s the honest and brutal truth:
The only reason I am alive is because of all those people who came before me:
The brilliant successes, the brutal failures, and the ones who cared enough to show up, reach out, and share their experience, strength and hope.
I love Alcoholics Anonymous, and no matter how long I live, I can never repay all
it has given me.
Whatever I give, I get back tenfold.
And now I’m one of those obnoxious old timers.
ANYWAY:
Posted on the wall in our clubhouse is the AA Responsibility Statement:
I am responsible, when anyone, anywhere reaches out for help, I want the hand of A.A. always to be there. And for that: I am responsible.
…Ever reminding us of the debt of gratitude owed to those good people who came before.
As an emotional Ostrich, I always maintained that my drinking just affected me, refusing to look at the wake of my wreckage, and all the hapless people I hurt.
When it comes to recovery, the longer I stay sober, the wider my sphere of influence becomes with the people around me…we are all interconnected creatures
God created us that way.
No matter how wide my sphere of influence may be, no matter how many people I may affect, I can never sufficiently give back what has so freely been given to me.
HERE'S THE TAKEAWAY
There’s no bigger deal(as far as I’m concerned) in AA than when someone gets their medallion. After the announcement of their milestone, and after the big burst of applause,
People shout out, “How did you do it?” The stock answer is always,
“One day at a time!”
Not so with me.
My stock answer is,
“With the patience, tolerance and encouragement of a lot of very good people.”
In the end, I was given self-awareness, a new life, a Higher Power, a sense of belonging, and a meaningful purpose for my existence.
However:
The people who showed me the way weren’t looking for anything in return.
…Just another day of sobriety.
It’s a debt I can never repay.