Why We Laugh...

I got sober in the month of October, so I naturally came to see the month of November to be a special month where I focused on Resentment. Resentment primarily over people talking about Gratitude and that this was "the" Gratitude month! That used to just really bother me. I mean, Thanksgiving was not an AA holiday and it seemed inappropriate to the legalist and purest in me that we were infecting the rooms of AA with some outside celebration.

The focal point of my Rehashment of Resentment (the anti-matter of AA's Attitude of Gratitude) was the laughter that I began hearing in the rooms of AA from Day 1 until now. When I was first sober, the laughter caught me off guard. What was so funny about someone talking about something quite painful, shameful and/or downright scary? And why would people in these rooms typically react to these most painful of stories with very brief moments of quiet, followed by what appeared to be spontaneous, honest and sometimes uproarious laughter! What was that all about? I remember the first time I laughed, I immediately put my hand over my mouth because it seemed wrong to laugh at someone else's misery and pain. But I did laugh, almost from the get go.

I didn't think any of this was really all that funny. I had accepted the truth of my being alcoholic and that to live, I needed to focus not so much on stopping drinking as I needed to focus on staying sober. But staying sober didn't really seem that joyful or funny. It seemed quite serious and therefore, I needed to figure it out. It was the only thing I thought about. I was scared that I would drink again. I went to 10 to 14 meetings a week (and still do) and read everything I could get my hands on about AA, recovery and alcoholism...still do.

Now, seven years later, the topic of Gratitude does not bother me at all. When the topic does come up, I do like to share that for me, Gratitude was not a feeling, but an attitude. A decision made now and regardless; not an emotion following something good. Feelings terrified me all my life and alcohol was my primary tool in dealing with feelings, good or bad. But my sponsor taught me (and I slowly learned...) that feelings were neither good or bad. They just were what they were and I didn't need to be all that worried about them. They came. They went. But Gratitude wasn't a feeling. Grateful was a feeling; gratitude was more or a decision, a habit or an attitude.

Gratitude was something that had to be learned and practiced and developed. Some people made lists and wrote them down. I made lists of things I was grateful for in my head as I was driving to work (writing them down was clearly unsafe!) and as I did this more regularly, there would times where I'd become aware of some gift I'd received and I would be flooded with emotions of gratitude, joy and being loved. My eyes would tear up and I'd have to stop thinking of more things to be grateful for....I couldn't take any more. I was full, if not overflowing. The day I cried tears of joy over the fact that "I am and always will be an alcoholic" was one such overwhelming moment.

Now I have begun to understand the laughter in and around AA. It's not the laughter you hear at social gatherings where people are purposely telling funny stories or jokes, or, my personal favorite, making fun of someone else. No, the laughter heard in AA meetings or between two suffering alcoholics is a much different kind of laughter.

It's a laughter shared only by and with other survivors.

When we share a most pain-filled memory of our past within the context of an AA meeting or with another alcoholic, we share something that every single one of us can relate to and identify with. We often nod unconsioucly with deep understanding as we listen to another's story. Even if we've never been divorced, or arrested, or abused---we've been there. We know what that feels like because we've felt that same feeling, if not in the context being shared by the speaker, we've felt that same feeling in some other context. And we all had a common solution for such feelings and experiences: we looked outside ourselves and we looked at alcohol or some other substance that would take us out of that painful experience: fast! immediate! easy!

So, why do we laugh? We laugh, consciously or not, because we share a common past and a common disease: and we survived. By the fact that we're here telling our story of woe to another alcoholic, we know that we have both survived. Someone once said that "Religion is for those who fear going to Hell; spirituality is for those who've already been there." That spirituality is what I found and continue to find in the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous and with other suffering alcoholics, be they wet, dry or joyous, happy and free.

Take care!

Mike L.

Once Again: It's an Inside Job

Last night, I'd made a commitment to meet with a sponsee after work and before heading over there, I realized I'd really not let my wife know about this commitment I'd made. This issue of being considerate and communicative was more important this week: the last week or so has been rather difficult --- she's been in a particularly bad spot emotionally right now for a lot of reasons. That never bodes well for me. Anyway, a few nights ago she informed me that large part of the proposed solution to her problem was that I needed to change. I needed to change to solve her problem. God Love Her. ;-}

And part of the way I needed to change was to be more present and connected to her, spend more time with her, etc.

Anyway, I called her last night with the intention to be up front about wanting to go meet with a sponsee for a little while at the end of the day. Or course, I didn't realize until too late that this wasn't that honest because I'd already made my plan to meet with the sponsee before running it by her.... But that gets me ahead of my story. Her response was surprising in that it seemed quite positive: "Sure, I'm on my way home and I'll email you with a list of things we need from the store and you can pick those up for me after your meeting..." Sounded great to me! Maybe this "honesty" thing is something I should try more often.

Unfortunately, later that evening when I got home, there was a chill in the air and it didn't take long to discover that she really wasn't all that "fine" about my decision to meet with a sponsee earlier in the evening. Now I learned that when she was on the phone earlier, she'd felt hurt by my decision to meet with this stranger (her term for sponsees or anyone else in recovery...) but that she didn't feel she really had a choice to do or say anything other than pretend to be supportive of what I had already decided to do. That is, she pretended (quite well!) to be supportive even though she actually felt abandoned....once again by me. She'd been hurt.

I felt like the jackass that I am all too often and I tried as best I could to make amends. And we worked through that by the end of the night. Mostly.

The next morning, I got up early and for the first time in awhile, I got back to my normal morning routine of stretching exercises (face it: I'm old) and then 15 minutes or so of quiet meditation. Sitting and being attentive to my breathing in and breathing out. Then I went to an early 6:30 meeting at the Concord Fellowship. I walked in feeling quite content and proud of myself for getting back into my spiritual routine that morning, successful at compartmentalizing my wife issues, and went over to the counter to grab a cup of decaf and try to resist getting a donut before sitting down with friends before the meeting.

I poured a cup of coffee and then went to grab a packet of Equal from the basket of artificial sweeteners on the counter. I sorted through all the crappy Sweet 'n Lows which I hate, looking for the cherished but rare Equal packets that always seem always to be hiding in the bottom of the basket. The first packet I found turned out to already be opened and 1/4th full. Shit! How inconsiderate of someone to do that! The second packet I found turned out to be fully empty. Shit x 2! plus a Fuck!....I whispered to myself and this was overheard by two friends nearby. They took great glee in the fact that St. Mike was finding life on life's terms not quite so easy and even more glee in sharing that insight with me. While I laughed off their biting judgment, I left them to their new past time (making fun of Mike) and sat down at the "my" table.

Once there, a friend of mine with maybe two or three years asked me what was wrong...I seemed troubled. Rather than admit that I was troubled by two defective Equal packets (or more honestly, my difficulties with my wife), I pushed down my real feelings and upset and said that I'd been struggling with some work issues related to the worsening economy and the possibility that I was going to be asked to lay off one or more of my employees before year's end. He then shared with me 3 to 5 suggestions of how I should handle that unbeknownst to him "unreal" problem of mine. I tried to project 7 years worth of humility and openness to someone with less time than me (arrogant asshole that I was!), all the while wanting him to shut up and allow me to share with him the real problem facing the Concord Fellowship and all of AA: the audacity of some fucking alcoholic to open up a packet of Equal, take only 3/4s of the substance and then leave the remainder in the basket....only to be outdone by some other (or the same) fucking alcoholic leaving a completely empty packet of Equal in the basket instead of throwing it away in the trash can. Luckily for him and for me (and the Equal offending asshole who might be somewhere nearby...), the meeting started.

After the chair, the topic was Acceptance. The topic pleased me only because it wasn't Gratitude, topic du jour of many November AA meetings. I thought about sharing some bullshit story that I always share about when Acceptance is the topic, but I was too humble to raise my hand... What I really wanted to talk about, no "to instruct" about, was the unwritten but important ethics of AA and the proper disposal of trash which includes partially consumed and germ infested Equal packets. But, I refrained. Restraint of pen and tongue and all that. Made all the more difficult by my two supposed friends who kept asking me if "Love and Tolerance" was my code! Arrrgh!

I left the meeting when it was over without an explosion and began my 65 minute drive to work. Before getting too far, I knew that something was bothering me and I decided that it was time for me to do what I call my Acceptance Inventory (I've blogged about it previously...it involves asking a series of 50+ questions that I memorized from a book called The Tao of Sobriety...) and wouldn't you know it, I only had to recite the first inventory question to have my whole life turned upside down:

"1. Do you accept that ordinary people are often cruel, INCONSIDERATE, and heartless?"

99% of the time, my answer to this question would be "Sure!" and I'd then move on to the really more challenging questions like "Do you accept dying?" or the following question, "Do you REALLY accept dying?". But this morning, my honest and immediate answer to question #1 was: "Apparently not!"

I realized in short fashion that my early morning visceral reaction to the discovery of the two defective Equal packets gave clear and convincing evidence to the fact that I do not in fact accept that people are not what I want/expect them to be. Even though, in reality, ordinary people are often cruel, inconsiderate and heartless. My failure to accept that reality led to my emotional outburst before the meeting.

This morning, I never really got past that first question in the Acceptance Inventory. Instead, I accepted a guilty verdict and I laughed at my self.

Then I began to recollect all sorts of examples from my "his-story" where I displayed the same or equal level of inconsiderateness (e.g., using the last bit of toilet paper and not restocking the bathroom with a new roll, taking almost the last drop of milk out of the carton and leaving a meaningless drop for my wife, if I left any at all, etc.). And I laughed at my self again....

And then when those reminences down memory lane peetered out, I hooked on to the most meaningful truth of my own inconsiderateness when the day before I'd not honored my love and commitment to my wife of 27+ years and her needs and wants before I made plans to meet with my sponsee. THAT was inconsiderate, selfish and self-centered. THAT was ordinary old me.

I didn't laugh so hard that time. I needed to begin planning on demonstrating my love and my commitment toward my wife in such a way that respects my own needs to foster my recovery, but also puts into action my love for my wife. In addition to honesty, I needed to work on some basic acts of consideration and kindness.

Oh well. Progress....not perfection. I've got work to do. No better time than now.

Take care!

Mike L.

Checking In...

Just a quick check-in to report that the office move which I've been working on for 2-3 years has begun and we're over most of the move now and there's been no deaths or bloodshed. I've missed blogging a great deal and look forward to returning to my normal routines. While I cut back on blogging, I didn't cut back on meetings at all. Those have always been a constant for me. Last week, I celebrated 7 years of sobriety and I continue to go to 10-14 meetings a week. I'm addicted.

Take care!

Mike L.

Walking Through An Anxiety Attack

Two weeks ago, my eldest daughter got married to a young man who in addition to being a really great guy, has the added distinction of being 9 years clean and sober. Nice having two sons who both have more sobriety than I do: a son who's over 7 and 1/2 years sober and now a son-in-law with 9 years. Anyway, it was an absolutely great day. Got to dance the second dance with my daughter and I didn't embarrass her or myself in the process. Toward the end of the dance, my wife and son came dancing up next to us and my wife asked me if we could switch places... I agreed and then let her dance with my daughter and I danced with my son Pat. It was great.

What does all that have to do with my having an anxiety a little over a week after the wedding? I really can't ever remember having an anxiety attack before in my life. I'd heard my wife talk about her experiences of having anxiety attacks at various times in her life, but I never could understand why they were such a big deal to her and why she didn't just "snap out of them". But last Tuesday, I woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. I woke up with the realization that I'd neglected to do one of the several hundred "mission critical" tasks that I was responsible for implementing before our office move later this month. Somehow, this particular task had fallen off my radar and I woke up panicked at the fact that I hadn't done what I was supposed to do.

What was weird is that I got up and went into the living room and sent off a couple of emails to members of my staff letting them know that we would need to move forward with this neglected task first thing in the morning. That was all I needed to do and the task was going to get done. But the anxiety didn't go away. It lasted for about 12 hours... I was aware of it remaining with me all during that time. But I didn't stay stuck in that anxiety. I went back to sleep for a couple of hours and then went to an early morning meeting before going to work. I was anxious during the entire meeting. Talked to a few friends before and after the meeting, but the anxiety remained. Went to work and did what I needed to do, but the anxiety was still there. It was gradually lessening in intensity, but it was there.

I went to a noon meeting and the guy who chaired the meeting talked about how when he was 10 years sober, he'd stupidly prayed to God saying that he was finding life way too boring and asked God to give him something interesting to deal with. Within a month or two, he was diagnosed with cancer. I knew this guy when he walked through his cancer treatments and recalled how I admired his courage and perseverance during that difficult period of his life. As he recounted his story on Wednesday, I thought how silly it was for me to be so filled with anxiety about a stupid office move when this guy walked through and continues to walk through a recovery from a second deadly disease. When called on that day, I didn't have much time to share, but I did let the group know that I was really struggling with an anxiety attack from hell that day and that today's chair gave me the knowledge that what I needed to do was simply walk through this anxiety and that it would eventually pass. And it did, slowly.

Then two days later, I went to an early morning meeting and the chair that day talked about her father who was also an alcoholic who died having stopped drinking for some years, but without ever having discovered a sober way of living. As she talked, it dawned on me why I had the anxiety attack and it turns out that it had nothing to do with my job. It had to do with my dad...

A few days after my daughter's marriage, I was looking through hundreds of pictures taken during and around the wedding. Each time I came to a picture of me, I was struck by the fact that I looked like my father who'd died around 15 years ago from his alcoholism. Some pictures were of me from the back and all you could see was my back and my gray hair: it could have been my dad. One picture was of me and my hands: they were his hands! The face with glasses: his face, his eyes, his glasses! And each time I saw my dad in me, there was a palpable sadness, regret, shame and/or anger. Why wasn't he there for this celebration! Why didn't he stop drinking when I asked him to?

That was the source of my anxiety attack. Or was it?

At a subsequent meeting, I was recounting this journey through anxiety and how I'd seen my dad in the pictures of me....when it dawned on me that I wasn't really angry or ashamed at my dad: I was sad over the fact that I'd never fully forgiven my dad for being the alcoholic that he was. And even more, I was sad over the fact that I'd never fully forgiven myself for being the alcoholic that I was, that I am. That I'd hadn't been able to stop either when my son's therapist asked me to stop in order to be supportive of my son's attempt to deal with his drug addiction. That I'd drank secretly for almost ten months as he struggled mightily with his disease.

I'm grateful for all of this today. I continue to revel in the joy surrounding my daughter's wedding. I'm sitting here at work on a Sunday afternoon finishing up several more of those "mission critical" tasks needing to get done before our office move. I feel closer and more connected to my father, proud of him for all that he was able to do in his life, including loving me in a way that made me always know in my innermost being that I was indeed loved and lovable. Thankful for him being who he was because ultimately, that led to me being who I am, a sober alcoholic, an a father of one, now two sober sons in recovery.

What's wrong with this picture? Nothing. Nothing at all.

Take care!

Mike L.

The Mystery of the Big Book's Missing 2nd Step

Not sure if anyone has noticed this little detail of the Big Book: Chapters 3 through 7 are a narrative journey through all 12 of the steps and at each point in the journey, author highlights the point in the journey when each steps occurs in this narrative:

Step 1: p. 30: "We learned that we had to fully concede to our innermost selves that we were alcoholics. This is the first step in recovery."
Step 2: ???
Step 3: p. 60: "Being convinced, we were at Step Three, which is that we decided to turn our will and our life over to God as we understood Him."
Step 3: p.61: "We were now at Step Three."
Step 4: p.64: "This was Step Four. "
Step 5: p. 72: "This brings us to the Fifth Step in the program of recovery mentioned in the preceding chapter."
Step 6: p. 76: "If we can answer to our satisfaction, we then look at Step Six. "
Step 7: p. 76: "We have then completed Step Seven."
Step 8 & 9: p. 76: "Let's look at Steps Eight and Nine."
Step 10: p. 84: "This thought brings us to Step Ten, which suggests we continue to take personal inventory and continue to set right any new mistakes as we go along."
Step 11: p. 85: "Step Eleven suggests prayer and meditation."
Step 12: p.89: "This is our twelfth suggestion: Carry this message to other alcoholics!"

What's interesting to an obsessive person like me is that not only is there no similar statement about Step 2, but there are two such references to Step 3. Where's Step 2? Did the first of the two statements re: Step 3 contain a typo? Did they mean to say, "Being convinced, we were at Step 2..."?

After chewing on this puzzle for some time, I've come to believe first, that the writers of the Big Book were slightly less obsessive as me and, second, that Step 2's statement is actually hidden in the line found on page 59: "Being convinced, we were now at Step 3....".

The phrase "Being convinced" seems awfully similar to the summary version of Step 2 found on page 58, "Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity." "Being convinced" seems synonymous to "came to believe."

Now when I hear "How it Works" read at a meeting of AA, I always think about the next line that follows: Being convinced (That it Works!), we were now at Step 3. And if we're now at Step 3, what did we just finish? Well, Step 2 of course!

For me, Step 2 does not really deal with the issue of God or my belief/non-belief in God. It really had nothing to do with God: Step 2 happened for me around the time in my recovery when I realized that I had become convinced that this process actually could work for me and allow me to stay sober. For a long time prior to that point in time, sobriety had simply been impossible. Then, quite by accident it seemed, I woke up after my last drink and realized that the reason "stopping drinking" was impossible for me was the fact that I was an alcoholic. That's why it was impossible for me to stop drinking. In fact, that's why "I" am still incapable of "stopping" drinking. What I discovered that morning, almost 7 years ago, was that while I couldn't stop drinking, I could start staying sober, one day at a time.

Some months after that morning, after many many meetings of AA and watching the miracle occurring in others lives, I gradually became convinced that sobriety and recovery were possible. When I realized that, I knew that the 2nd Step had been completed and I was finally ready to move on to Step 3.

Take care!

Mike L.

Entirely Ready: Seems I Know It Only in Retrospect

It doesn't seem that I ever know how to become entirely ready. It always seems that I notice that I've become entirely ready only after the fact, only in retrospect.

In terms of my getting sober, I never saw sobriety coming. Sobriety was a seeming impossibility. I just couldn't stop drinking and I'd really stopped trying. All I was really trying to do was drink without getting caught or in trouble. But "stopping" wasn't something that seemed at all possible for me and I'd given up hope that I could ever do it.

Then one morning, something happened. I woke up thinking the exact same thought that I'd woken up thinking for some months, ten to be exact: "I just can't stop drinking!" Nothing really substantially "bad" had happened the night before. I'd had "only" two drinks while I was waiting to go back and pick my son up after his Friday night NA meeting... Two drinks was just perfect for that hour and a half waiting period. True, my son almost caught me that night...almost discovered that I was drinking and that I couldn't stop. But he didn't. I'd lied and he seemed to have believed me. And I'd gone to bed totally demoralized with myself and who I'd become. I just couldn't get myself out of the hellish life I found myself confined to living.

And then, I simply woke up the next morning and after thinking the same "I just can't..." thought again, for some reason, that morning, that hopeless thought led to another thought or awareness: "This inability to stop drinking is what they call 'alcoholism'." Wow, where did that come from? Actually, I know where it came from (I'd heard them talking about it many many times over the last ten months of my son's treatment program...) what I don't understand is why was it that morning, it all of a sudden "made perfect sense." Ah, a disease! That's it! I have a disease! Everything I'd been doing for years and years all of a sudden made perfect sense! I wasn't crazy or immoral or selfish, I was sick!

With the realization that I was sick, came the next thought that, well, that's not my fault. It's just the way things turned out to be. It's no one's fault. It's just the way it is. But now, I understood that "I could do something about this.... I could do what my son was doing, one day at a time. I could do that. While I couldn't "stop" drinking, I could begin trying to "stay" sober. All of a sudden, I had a glimmer of hope.

All this leads me to believe that "entire readiness" is something that I know only in retrospect. I didn't will it to happen. I didn't choose it in the way I normally think of "choosing" or of free will. It just seemed to happen as the result of a convergence of a wide array of seemingly disconnected but connected things and events. My son's recovery. My alcoholic father's death. Seeing several young kids, including my son, get and sometimes stay sober. Seeing people fail miserably at their attempt to get and stay sober: but seeing many of them get back up after falling down and starting over. Seeing these struggling sober alcoholics/addicts disclose their inner most truths and fears....and walking through them with a level of courage and integrity that seemed totally out of my reach or capability.

Today, almost 7 years later, I'm discovering this "entirely ready" state of being is also outside my willpower in terms of more than my recovery: it's ever present in my efforts to let go of habits and behaviors that clearly cause pain and suffering for me and for those I love. I want soooooo much to be ready to let these things go and have them drop away like lead weights. But they don't. It seems, rather, that they fall away like leaves from a tree: they fall when their time to fall away comes. When they've served their purpose. When I've embraced them for what they are: neither good nor bad. Simply what they are. To the extent I love and accept them like I did with my dis-ease of alcoholism, to that extent will they blossom into something beautiful and to that extent will they eventually die a grace-filled death.

Take care!

Mike L.

Annotated Version of the First Step

A sponsee's beginning his 1st Step and that means I'm working it too. In fact, this is really the only time I ever plan on reworking the steps: as I help others work them. I have no real desire to formally go through the steps again. At least, that's my thinking now.

Many people believe that the 1st step is formally and singly stated on the second page of Chapter 5 (How It Works) of the Big Book ("We came to believe we were powerless over alcohol--that our lives had become unmanagable.") and then explained in more detail in the book "The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions" (12x12). I've actually come to believe that the first and, in fact, all 12 of the steps are contained several other places in addition to what I call the Reader's Digest version of the Steps contained in Chapter 5 on pages 59-60. Those other places are not limited to the following: (1) in the first chapter of the Big Book, "Bill's Story" contains a summary of how Bill went through the process of the steps (it's sort of hidden, but if you read the story carefully, you'll find his working rendition of the steps...), (2) in Chapter 3, "More About Alcoholism" (which covers the first step) through Chapter 7 "Working with Others" (where it talks about the 12th "suggestion" and, lastly, (3) in most all of the stories later in the Big Book.

Below, I'd like to focus on the first page of Chapter 3, More About Alcoholism. I consider that page to be the "long version" of the first step. The short version is the last paragraph of Chapter 3 (I'll talk more about that in another blog) and the shortest version, the one everyone recites when they are called on to talk about the first step, is the one found on page 59 in How It Works.

While I agree with the value of going to the 12x12 for more information about the 1st Step, I first suggest that my sponsee's or others dealing with this step focus first on Chapter 3 of the Big Book, "More About Alcoholism" before going to the 12x12. This third chapter of the Big Book, specifically, the first three full paragraphs on the first page, represent what I consider to be the most complete expression of what it means for an alcoholic to take the first step along the path of recovery.

When I heard this section of Chapter 3 read at the beginning of an AA meeting in Southern California (they read this page rather than How It Works...) the words seemed to scream out to me as being very very important and as a result I began memorizing this page. As I've mentioned before, the process of memorization has helped me get to the core of some written words/passages in the Book and elsewhere.

The repetition allows me to savor and meditate on every single word of the passage. I end up almost having a conversation with the writer as I'm doing that: I sometimes ask myself (standing in for the writer..) "Why did the writer choose this word?" "Why didn't they use another word?" and even, heretical as it may sound, "Wouldn't this statement or sentiment be more accurate (at least for me) if it was reworded to say...." Anyway, I did this process with the long version of the 1st step and have recited it to myself quite regularly on my way to work each day... Here, I thought that it might be helpful to others, especially my 1st step working sponsee, to share this long version of the 1st step, along with all my questions / thoughts / meanderings inserted into the text. The result, I suppose could be called an annotated version of the 1st Step.

Most of us were unwilling to admit that we were real alcoholics. No person likes to think they are bodily or mentally different from their fellows.

Most, but certainly not all, of us have spent considerable time resisting, denying, fighting, and fearing the idea that we might be alcoholics. We knew that if that were true, then we'd have to stop drinking. For me, I handled this challenge by routinely proving to myself over about a 29 year period of time that I wasn't an alcoholic because I could stop. In fact, I successfully stopped thousands of times!! I would stop for various periods of time, the time wasn't really that important to me, it just to had to be long enough to convince myself (or my wife) that I had "really" quit. The problem with this strategy from the very beginning was that the first thing I would do once I'd become convinced that I had indeed stopped....would be to drink!

I also had a problem when I looked at other people's drinking routines and practices and compared my drinking routines and practices with theirs. Especially other people who were clearly not alcoholics. For example, we have a friend of ours who's about my age and who's an attorney. He and his wife have been friends with us for probably our entire marriage. As far as I know, he's not an alcoholic (although his brother is). He drinks, but he doesn't appear to drink like an alcoholic. I've seen him drunk one time in the entire time I've known him (his 40th birthday party...). Oftentimes, when we arrived at their house for a visit, he'd say if you're thirsty, grab yourself something to drink in the refrigerator. I'd open the refrigerator and look inside to see all sorts of sodas, waters and juices. And there in the back corner of the refrigerator was one beer. All by itself. Lonely. I don't remember ever opting to take his one beer. I didn't like having one beer, so I would choose a soda or a water. But know that it bothered me a great deal that this guy kept one beer in his refrigerator.

There was a part of me that wanted to be like John. To be able to have one beer in my refrigerator. Because I suspected that only a non-alcoholic could do something like that. Me? I always like to keep a twelve pack on the bottom shelf with a hole just big enough to pull one bottle out of the case....I didn't like opening it all up because the beers could be counted that way and others would know how many I drank. I didn't like people counting my drinks. That's why I started hiding my drinks from a very early part of my drinking career. Anyway, what's curious about my envy of non-alcoholics like John is that wanted to be able to take on certain behaviors of theirs so that I could prove that I wasn't an alcoholic, but what always prevented me from taking on those "normal" behaviors was that it would keep me from drinking like I needed to drink!

Therefore is not surprising that our drinking careers have been characterized by constant vain attempts to prove we could drink like other people.

This is one of the lines in the book which I believe is factually incorrect. I was able to drink like other people! The only problem was the "other people" that I could drink like were those of you who join me regularly in AA meetings! Oh well.

But the important truth is, I really spent a lot of energy and time trying to think and to drink like non-alcoholics like John and others. Ultimately, there came a time for me when that simply wasn't possible and then the games and the lying and the deceit began to characterize more and more of my daily behavior and actions.

The insanity of this became utterly clear to me a couple of years ago when I read one of those research articles which seem to come out annually reporting that someone has discovered a "cure" for alcoholism. As I was pondering whether I'd take such a so-called cure, I realized that while a part of me would love not to be an alcoholic, the truth is that if I were able to start drinking again, I certainly would not want to drink like a non-alcoholic! While I want to be a non-alcoholic, I would only want to drink like an alcoholic! Non-alcoholic drinking seems very very painful to me---truly, if there was ever alcohol abuse, it's what non-alcoholics do to alcohol when they drink it!! I mean "sipping"!! Or leaving an unfinished drink! Or getting half way through a drink, saying "Wow! That hits the spot!" and then leaving the rest of the drink untouched. No, I think I'll remain content at being an alcoholic who tries to remain sober one day at a time. Much easier and certainly less painful.

The idea that some how, some day, he could control and enjoy his drinking is the great obsession of every abnormal drinker. The persistence of this illusion is astonishing. Many pursue it into the gates of insanity or death.

Never was the word "and" so important: Alcoholics are people who can either control or enjoy their drinking. They can't control and enjoy their drinking. Non-alcoholics can do both...although I don't really think they exert enough energy or effort to really qualify their actions as "controlled". The alcoholic insane obsession seems to be essentially one of wanting to be a non-alcoholic but, at the same time, to drink like an alcoholic.

We learned that we had to fully concede to our inner most selves that we were alcoholics. This is the first step in recovery. The delusion that we are like other people, or presently may be, has to be smashed.

Here's the crux of the first step spoken by those who had experienced their first step: We learned.... This isn't a statement made by a medical doctor or a scientific researcher or a priest. It's a statement made by a recovering alcoholic who learned, most likely the hard and painful way, that they were, in fact, an alcoholic. Recovery from this disease means recognizing and letting go of the delusional thought that we, as alcoholics, could be non-alcoholics. Such a thought, even if lingering or fleeting, is oftentimes a prelude to a first drink: Maybe I could have "just one" --- I mean, a non-alcoholic can have just one, why can't I?

Well, the answer follows...

We alcoholics are men and women who have lost the ability to control our drinking. We know no real alcoholic ever recovers control. All of us felt at times that we were regaining control. But such intervals, usually brief, were inevitably followed by still less control which led in time to pitiful and incomprehensible demoralization.

I suspect that I was an alcoholic well before I lost the ability to control my drinking. I think the fact that I began drinking with the clear intent to drink "without becoming an alcoholic like my father" was an indication that drinking was more important to me than "not being an alcoholic like my dad." I mean, if it was really important not to be an alcoholic like my dad, the easiest and sure fire way to do that was to not drink!! Case closed. But that's not what happened. I drank in spite of the knowledge that this disease was a part of my family history and as my drinking progressed, I noticed each time I experienced something very similar to something that happened to my alcoholic dad. Usually, I'd react to those events by deciding to quit drinking. And I would quit. But then there always came a day when I would realize that "I'd quit!" --- therefore, I'm not really an alcoholic and I was off to the races again.

We are convinced to a man that alcoholics of our type are in the grip of a progressive illness. Over any considerable period of time, we get worse, never better.

Here's the closing argument: These folks were convinced not only that they were alcoholics, but that alcoholism was a "progressive" illness or disease. And just in case the deluded newcomer wanted to run with the idea that this disease got progressively better in a "good" way, they nailed the last nail in the coffin of denial with, "over any considerable period of time, we got worse, never better."

I've come to believe that this last line brings "good news" to the recovering alcoholic who's completed their first step, but for those who are still harboring doubts about whether or not they've "crossed the line", these words are the worst possible news! However bad their life has gotten to this point in time, it's the collective opinion of these AAs that things are only going to get worse if I keep or resume drinking. No doubt about it.

I suspect this is the jumping off point for the fence sitting reader of the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous: am I going to welcome this reprieve from the hellish prison I've been experiencing or am I going to continue to fight a battle against the idea that I'm an alcoholic? Surrender or Fight?

For me, it was to give up the fight and welcome the truth that I was indeed an alcoholic. I suspect that came easier for me because I'd seen my own 15 year old son come to his own sense of peace with this issue and begin a process of recovery that began ever so slowly to change his life for the better. I saw hope in him... I saw hope where only 5 months before, there there was no hope at all. And I'm eternally grateful that someone else was able to model that same hope for him when his father wasn't able to do that for him.

Take care!

Mike L.