My opinion only, but I believe Alcoholism is a genetic disease.
If you looked honestly and objectively at your lineage, there’s probably a good chance someone in there had a wee touch of the Irish Virus.
I’ve always maintained that I was born an alcoholic.
I didn’t catch this off a toilet seat in a foreign country, or morph into alcoholism by drinking too many warm beers, or participating in one too many keg parties at college.
My family is rife with it, and I don’t have to delve very deeply to find it.
I don’t think I’d be a very good candidate for those Ancestry.com commercials:
My mother’s father,
my father’s father,
my father…
Fuggedabowdit.
I was doomed from the start.
Interesting thing was, even though I was alcoholic, for all intents and purposes I was an ‘Earth Person’ before discovering AA.
I knew nothing about the steps, traditions, promises, slogans – the lingo, or the caliber of person I would come to exclusively associate with.
…And I could care less.
Alcoholics Anonymous remains the World’s Greatest Secret that’s hiding in plain sight.
I was drinking and drugging on a daily basis, and that was that.
And no matter how much I wanted to quit, and how hard I tried, I just couldn’t stop. My Theme Song was Billy Joel’s “My Life”. I was selfish and self-centered to the extreme.
I’d always had the “All-or-Nothing” alcoholic sensibility.
I could never take half a drink and walk away. Or just imbibe until I had a nice, comfortable glow – and then leave it alone.
Are you kidding me?
When it comes to drinking, any semblance of sanity goes right out the window:
I go at it like a lobotomized lab rat hitting the feed bar….I’ll just keep going until I keel over.
I can’t relate to someone who takes half a drink and walks away.
I’ve never done that.
I had a sponsor who paraphrased that infamous line from the 12 & 12, and made me memorize it: ‘As an alcoholic, I am selfish, self-centered, childish, immature and grandiose.’
That’s a kick in the pants for anyone fostering the illusion they’re just a little bit better than the next guy.
But I digress.
The Grace of God touched me when I got here, because something happened I didn’t anticipate:
I finally figured out what was going on with me, and I realized this is where I belonged.
I always knew something was the matter, but I could never quite put my finger on it.
Now, I finally had the answer:
I had a wee touch o’ the Irish Virus.
Being the all-or-nothing, OCD specimen I am, I immediately immersed myself in AA, and was met with nothing but encouragement.
It took me a long time to realize this: Of all the people in my life –
family, co-workers, old classmates…even the gang of knuckleheads I drank & drugged with –
No one ever said,
“Jimmy. Alcoholics Anonymous? Really? You’re not that bad.”
Never heard it.
Probably because the general concensus was: “He’s going to AA….Thank Christ.”
In my mind there was never any question: I knew I was going to do this.
I was no longer interested in being half-assed, and seeing what I could get away with.
An old timer I knew used to say,
” You’ve got to stay completely and totally involved with the program of Alcoholics Anonymous.”
An old friend is fond of saying, “This isn’t a program for people who want it. It’s not even a program for people who need it. This is a program for people who do it.”
When we tell you, “Keep coming back”, it’s not a conspiracy to get your buck in the basket.
It’s because we know what works. Total immersion.
We want to stack the deck in your favor.
And by the way, it’s not a coffee “commitment”, it’s a coffee “privilege”. Making coffee saved my life.
There’s this interesting correlation.
The vast majority of newcomers who jump in, participate and make a contribution are the ones who manage to stay sober.
This isn’t rocket surgery.
But a lot of folks go out of their way to avoid doing just that.
And I now understand why:
There is no greater risk that any of us takes than to be seen as we truly are.
To open up, concede defeat, admit you don’t ‘have it all together, and ask for help.
That’s a bitter pill to swallow.
I had to have all the defiance and denial beaten and bludgeoned out of me.
Alcoholism is a predator:
It wants to separate you from the herd, break your spirit, and take you down.
And believe me, I’ve seen too many people succumb.
For a long time, one of my best friends in sobriety was a guy named Robert.
He was a good and loyal friend.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but he leaned on me very heavily and used me as a Proxy sponsor.
I never mentioned it, but there was one thing about him that bothered me:
As far as AA was concerned, he wasn’t a “buyer”.
If you’re going to succeed with this, you must commit and be “all in.” No prisoners.
There was a woman in my group named Sandra.
Sandy was sweet, loving and sensitive…and perpetually coming back.
For one reason or another, she just couldn’t get it.
Every time I think of Sandy, my heart breaks.
On one hand,
you get a front-row seat watching people destroy themselves. And you’re utterly powerless to do anything about it. You can only be there, be available, try to be a power of example. In the meanwhile, you sit in silent impotence and fume.
On the other hand,
you get to watch an emergence and a transformation. Someone comes in riding a bicycle. Drunk, pathetic and repulsive. Suddenly, They fall in with the right people, with the right message at the right time, and a light comes on.
In time, they get their family back, have a car, a home, a job, and a life.
And they start sponsoring people, and the cycle begins anew.
Funny thing:
You’d think the longer you stay sober, the easier it would get.
Well, yes and no.
Yes, because now you know the ingredients to the secret sauce.
No, because now the ante has gone way up.
For better or for worse, like it or not, you are now an ‘Elder Statesman’ (a grizzled ‘Old Soaker’).
People are looking to you for guidance, and you’re expected to set the example.
You now have to pay attention, and be on your best behavior. That can be a pretty tall order for a lot of folks…
If you’re in the middle of a meeting and get annoyed, you just can’t get up and leave like you used to.
People are watching.
You can no longer get in someone’s face and tell tem they suck. Even if they really do suck.
You are now being held to a higher standard.
When I was brand new, it was the old-timers who made me feel safe, comfortable and welcome…staying sober was possible.
They set the standard for propriety.
When I’m not sure how to behave in a certain situation, I think about what they’d do.
Those men and women who so indelibly influenced me are all gone, and they live on only in my memories. My sobriety is their legacy.
Here’s the other side of that sword:
There is nothing happier and more satifying than to be surrounded by your guys:
Your sponsees, their sponsees, and their sponsees. A big, extended dysfuntional family.
Granted, they may not be the family of your blood, but they are still family.
Chapter 7 in the Big Book, ‘Working with others’ is incredibly accurate:
“Life will take on new meaning. To watch people recover, to see them help others, to watch loneliness vanish, to see a fellowship grow up about you, to have a host of friends—this is an experience you must not miss. We know you will not want to miss it. Frequent contact with newcomers and with each other is the bright spot of our lives.”
HERE’S THE TAKEAWAY:
I’ve done a lot of good things in recovery. I’ve also made a lot of mistakes.
But the most important thing I ever did was to keep coming back.