Читать книгу A.A. in Prison: Inmate to Inmate - Anonymous - Страница 12

MY NAME IS HELEN

My name is Helen, and I am an alcoholic. Like most of us, I found A.A. the hard way. I knew that I had a serious drinking problem. But it took me a year before I did something about it. By then, a man was dead. I was charged with second-degree murder. And I was in jail.

At first I thought, “It’s too late now. Why not drink myself to death?” I had tried to die several times. Why not now?

But, by the grace of God, I am alive today. It must have been God’s will. Living surely was not my will. I wanted to get out on bail for one reason: to get another bottle of Scotch and another bottle of sleeping pills. This time I would have “the good sense” not to call anyone for help.

My lawyer could see my sorry state of mind. He told my sisters. When I was set free on bond, a sister was there. She made sure I did not harm myself. I went to New York City to live with her. She has the same problem with alcohol that I do. At that time, neither of us would admit it. We began to have violent fights. Soon, I was ready to move out. Even if it meant going back to jail.

Instead, I found my own apartment. Living alone was a gift from God. I was still drinking. But without extra stress, I drank a lot less. I spent the next few months thinking about myself. I wondered why I was where I was. I had always been active in my community. I had been respected. Then I had met a man, a heavy drinker. I started really hitting the booze. I blamed everything on that unhappy affair.

I went back to Florida in July. I began working on my case with my lawyer. The man I had lived with was dead. I was in serious trouble.

My lawyer sent me to an analyst. The first time I saw my shrink, he told me that I was an alcoholic. I went home and drank to that. Another time, I told the shrink how the man had abused me. He said, “No man could have done all those things to you. You let him do them.”

Everywhere I turned, I was losing my excuses. I had to face the fact: I alone was responsible. That was hard. Every time I left my shrink, I had another drink.

Why should I quit drinking? I would darn sure have to quit when I was in prison. So why fight it now? Every time I got smashed, I wanted to down a bottle of sleeping pills. But I would remember the last time I overdosed: The tears running down my son’s face. And how my daughter went to live with her father. She was tired of the misery at home.

My shrink was patient. He was always there for me. I think I quit drinking to make him feel better. I quit three months before my trial. I found that I could face my nightmare sober. It was still horrible. But at least I could manage the urge to kill myself.

Then I began to wonder: Could I face a normal life without drinking? What would I do at a party? All my friends drank. Well, most. I had several friends who were in A.A. I was living at the beach at this time. Everyone there was in a party mood. I started drinking tonic and lime without the booze. No one minded at all! I still had a nice time. I still had friends.

In fact, I had support from my drinking friends. My friends who didn’t drink also helped me. They all cared. I began to trust my friends. I began to lean on them. It was the first time in my life. And not one turned a cold shoulder.

I began to have long talks with my A.A. friends. They were there for me 24 hours a day. Finally, one of them talked me into going to a meeting. I really went to get her off my back. Again, I was surprised at the warmth and care I found there. Some of them knew I was waiting to go on trial for murder. But they still showed they cared.

I began to find out important things: All my life, I was the one who had pushed people away. I had lied to myself and everyone else. I learned that people really did like me. They weren’t all after something. Now I had nothing to give but myself.

I was tried and convicted of manslaughter. I went to prison. I’m still there now. I was feeling a lot of fear, guilt, and no hope. Then I joined the prison A.A. group. I found moral support from the visiting speakers. But I still didn’t believe them when they said, “Things will get better. Turn your troubles over to God.”

How could God help me where I was? He wasn’t going to get me out of prison. He would not hush the 80 women in this dorm so I could sleep at night. Or keep them from stealing and swearing and fighting. God may be everywhere, but I surely did not see Him in here!

Then I began to give in to my situation. I kept going to A.A. and to church. I was hoping for something—not really sure what. Then I did begin to feel a little better. I began to smile from time to time. I even began to feel kinder toward the awful animals in here. Then I found out something amazing: These “animals” had names—and feelings—and fears—just like me! I began to comfort some of them. I began to advise them. And I forgot about myself for a while. Helping them helped me.

One day, I needed to write a letter. I said that I was almost out of paper. Suddenly, I had enough paper to write a book! Three or four inmates came to me. They gave me sheets of paper from their own supply. I had been blind. I had not seen my friends. They had been there knocking at the door. And I had been afraid to answer. At last, I opened the door.

Things are looking up now. My friends in here comfort me. My friends from the outside do what they can, too. I am learning to live as A.A. suggests. I live in the Twelve Steps. It makes life better for me. And for those who live with me.

I am growing in ways I needed to grow. When I leave this place, I will be strong enough to survive. Thanks to God, A.A., church, a loving family, and my friends. I am going to make it now—one day at a time.

–H.P., Florida