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I am an alcoholic who has been sober and recovering for just over eight months now. What an incredible ride it has been. From the moment I pulled open the doors to my very first meeting, I felt something different, something good was going to happen. Those doors, which at the time I believed to be the heaviest ever made, allowed me to walk into a new way of life. I don’t remember what exactly was said, nor do I remember any one person in particular, but I do remember the incredible feeling of positive power in that room. It certainly struck me hard enough to make me come back the next day, and I did. I chased that feeling from room to room, the same way I chased the seemingly wonderful effects of my first drunk. Every drunk got progressively worse. To my surprise, I found that same great feeling that I had in my first meeting in every room I went to. Sometimes more powerfully than others, sometimes the same, but never less.

It hasn’t been easy. My emotional bottom came in sobriety. Everything seemed to be going wrong, with one tragic occurrence after another. My life was suffering emotionally, professionally, and spiritually. I was mired in depression. It was awful. I lost weight and was slowly losing my mind. I actually had to sit and feel all of those feelings I worked so hard to drown out with alcohol. I knew that I couldn’t drink anymore. It would only make things worse. I just had to deal with those things called feelings. I guess I always had them, I just never felt them before. Too drunk to. Waking every morning, I would ask myself, What else could possibly go wrong today? I knew something would go wrong. Who knew what, but something would. Nice way to start the day, huh?

From “Living To Good Purpose” January 1997

I don’t remember what was said in that first meeting or anyone who shared, but at the end of the meeting an attractive, well-dressed lady came up to me, introduced herself, and asked, “Do you have a problem?” Of course I said no. I was sure I had many problems, but alcoholism wasn’t one of them.

The problem wasn’t that I hadn’t reached my bottom—I had hit it and then dragged! I was ill, homeless, unemployable, and at that point of despair in which I knew nothing would ever make life better for me. I’d been a daily drinker for about three years. I weighed eighty-five pounds, had wine sores on my arms and legs, and couldn’t remember the last time I’d taken a bath, brushed my teeth, or washed my hair. I knew my life was unmanageable, I just didn’t know that alcohol had brought me to this state. I thought I was mentally ill, immoral, and the victim of poor choices and bad companions. But not an alcoholic!

Within a few meetings, I began introducing myself as an alcoholic. After all, I was smart enough to figure out that was the way to be accepted in this outfit! I wasn’t sure what these sober alcoholics had, but it was certainly better than what I had in my life. But I still thought I was different, that if these people had my problems, they’d drink too!

The awareness that I was an alcoholic came gradually, through the identification with the stories that were shared, and through the recognition that my life was getting better. The only thing that had changed was that I wasn’t drinking—and my life began to improve. I became aware that I was an alcoholic at about six months of sobriety. I was terrified. I thought that if I was alcoholic, if I was powerless over alcohol, I’d have to drink again. That fear launched me into willing ness to attempt the other Steps.

What I didn’t realize was that I was beginning a lifelong process of applying these principles, one day at a time, to all of life’s experiences, not perfectly but to the best of my ability.

—MICKEY H.

SPRINGVILLE, UTAH

So, I made the decision to keep coming to AA. It was the only thing going right for me. I felt great when I was in a meeting. The “committee” in my head took a break when I was there. I laughed, smiled, and listened. Little by little, I got it. Then, one day, nothing went right, but nothing went wrong. It just went. I went with it. Then another day. Then another, but this time I smiled and even chuckled. The next one, I laughed. It seemed that the good feelings from the meetings were starting to carry over to the rest of my day. My days were actually getting better.

I was starting to feel joy. I was smiling on the inside. Gratitude, dare I say, was beginning to creep into my vocabulary. I shared those feelings with newcomers. I felt better. I started working the Steps and felt better still. Sobriety, I realized, is also progressive.

Now, months later, I have a great deal of respect and gratitude for my disease. Without it, I would never have found this new way of life. I have become happy, joyous, and free. Don’t get me wrong: my life isn’t perfect. There are many situations that I’m working to resolve, but I don’t pick up a drink a day at a time. Not picking up a drink creates infinite possibilities for me. What are those possibilities? I don’t know, but I do know that when I wake up in the morning I pray for what I need to get through the day sober. I also smile and say to myself, Who knows? This could be the greatest day of my life!

Nice way to start the day, huh?

GEE

NEW YORK, NEW YORK

JANUARY 2006