If We Are Painstaking....

For me, the most important words of the so-called "AA Promises" are the first four: "If we are painstaking during this phase of our development...". Sometimes I think this "being painstaking" is prerequisite to the Promises and is either ignored or given too little weight by me. A deadly or critical error to be sure.

Painstaking is an unusual word, not often seen or heard elsewhere. One definition I found helpful is "The act of taking pains...". In the broad context of recovery, I take that to mean that to the extent I am able "to take" the actual and inevitable pains in my life and my body, I can move through and beyond suffering.
Other ways of saying the same thing would be:

To the extent I am able to "embrace" the actual and inevitable pains in my life and my body, I can move through and beyond suffering.

To the extent I am able to "accept" the actual and inevitable pains in my life and my body, I can move through and beyond suffering.

To the extent I am able to "feel" the actual and inevitable pains in my life and my body, I can move through and beyond suffering.

To the extent I am able to "acknowledge without judgment" the actual and inevitable pains in my life and my body, I can move through and beyond suffering.

"Taking" can be done so many different ways though and I'm not sure all of them have the same level of effectiveness in terms of dealing with pain and suffering. I doubt that a "begrudging acceptance" that one is an alcoholic will have the same effect as someone who "fully concedes to their innermost selves" that they are an alcoholic.

I think there's a difference between "pain" and "suffering". Pain seems to be more of the objective reality that we're experiencing. Suffering is more our subjective or personal response to that experience of pain. I can (and will!) experience pain. I may or may not experience suffering as a result of this particular experience of pain.

All this means a great deal to me in the context of my ongoing recovery from alcoholism. Before I got sober, pain was bad and to be avoided at all costs. Alcohol, among other things and techniques, was a means of escaping and/or avoiding pain. And for a long, long time: it worked wonderfully! And then, it didn't. In between the time when it worked and the time it didn't, alcohol never really worked. All it did was anesthetize: it prevented my mind from knowing that the body and soul was hurting. But the hurting or injury continued even though I wasn't "feeling" it.

Anesthesia is good in limited situations where the use of anesthesia permits a doctor to perform work that's necessary (even though it causes pain) and would be impossible if the patient was actually feeling the pain. But self-prescribed anethesia via alcohol/drugs is ultimately a disaster for those addicted to alcohol/drugs. The medicine (alcohol) both medicates the pain and causes the pain. In the beginning, alcohol causes a smaller percentage of the pain, while it medicates a much larger percentage of the pain. In the end, the alcohol is unable to medicate or relieve any of the pain. In the end, it's almost "pure" cause of the person's pain.

The process of learning the skill or tool of "painstaking" does not begin when someone starts working the 9th step and making their amends for past harms done others. It begins with the first step where we experience (yet another synonym for "take") the physical pains caused by "withdrawing" from the use of alcohol. It continues though the 2nd step where we begin looking beyond the pains of withdrawal and begin looking toward the possibility of life without alcohol by means of some thing ("higher power" if you like) other than pure willpower/effort. And through the 3rd step where we let go of our death grip on trying to be other than who we are (alcoholics). And through the 4th step where we began a self-inventory, without fear, judgment or condemnation (all of which cause needless pain). And through the 5th step where we share with our most trusted "others" (those being: ourselves, God as we understand God and another human being...) the exact nature of our wrongs (that is, that there's absolutely NOTHING wrong but our long standing attempts to not be who we really were!). And through the 6th step where we began loosening our grip on the mistaken idea that we were "bad people" and becoming more aware of the fact that we were and are "sick people trying to become weller". And through the 7th step where we asked for help letting go of all the (painful) false images of who we were/are. And through the 8th step where we, finally, began to list (to see...) the inevitable reality that all of our attempts to hide from who we were (alcoholics) hurt not only ourselves, but those around and about us: especially those close enough to love us, the real us.

So, by the time where we began the active process of mending the damages left in our wake, it was not the beginning of "painstaking." It's the culmination of a long and gentle process, begun at the beginning. And it's certainly not the end of the process.... The remaining three "maintenance" steps each keep the importance of painstaking "front and center" of our living life on life's terms.

Take care!

Mike L.

Limited Safety of and within Meetings

I recently had a powerful experience of how the AA meeting is not safe in all respects and all circumstances. In addition, this same experience taught me an important lesson about the power of storytelling and how it can be used both for good and for evil.

Two weeks ago, I attended a meeting wherein a man, in an obvious state of agitation and distress, disclosed to the people at this meeting that the night previous he had "snapped" and had "beaten the shit" out of his 8 year old daughter and his wife. He explained that he had not "punched" his daughter with a fist, but had spanked her --- hard. He even acted out the severity of his spanks. He didn't describe the form of beating that his wife suffered, but he did say that at the end he'd told his wife to go into her room and lock the door. He then left the house and spent the rest of the night driving around town.

When he reenacted the spanking he'd given his daughter, I knew immediately that he'd crossed a line between "disciplinary" and "abusive." What he was demonstrating was abuse, clear and simple.

Present in the meeting was a nurse with 20 years sobriety. There were also at least three women and one man who I know from their stories have each suffered various forms of physical and/or sexual abuse from men in their past.

I left the meeting and struggled for at least an hour with the ethical dilemma presented by what I'd experienced at that meeting. I felt a strong ethical mandate to report this information to the police and/or Child Protective Services: primarily because I believed that this man's daughter and wife were both in imminent danger of further abuse from this troubled man. At the same time, I felt some obligation to protect this man's annonymity and his right to privacy in terms of what he'd shared in the context of the meeting. In the end, after consulting with several other AA members and my wife (who had been responsible for the "Safe Enviroment" program in our local Catholic diocese for several years (the department responsible for ensuring that children in Catholic institutions were protected from such abuse, whether it be from priests or others) --- and I ended up convinced that I had an obligation to call the police. And I did.

The police did go to the man's home and question him about what happened, as well as interview his wife and then his daughter. I'm not sure exactly what was said to the man by the police and the only one talking about what supposedly happened is the man himself. His story is that the police agreed with him that what he'd done to his daughter was permissible disciplinary action. I'm not at all sure that's true, but that's the story he's spreading in and out of the meetings ever since as he is on a intense search for "the snitch in AA" who called the police on him. As I have been listening to him, I'm coming to realize that "story" can be used for both good and evil. Stories, even untruthful and deceitful ones, can be very powerful and effective.

I have no regrets or shame about what I've done. I'm troubled by the fact that it appears I may have been the only one who felt obligated to call the police. I'm troubled by the fact that those four people who had prior experiences of being abused may be thinking to themselves that this group is condoning what this man did to his daughter and wife and that by their silence they are supporting an abuser and ignoring two co-victims of abuse. I'm troubled by the fact that I've been silent to date as to what happened and what was the right thing to do --- because to do so would expose the fact that I was probably the one who called the police.

But is my "silence" buying into the myth of this guy's power as an abuser? I personally don't believe this guy would attempt to harm me should I disclose to him, either privately or in front of the group, that I called the police and why I did that. I believe that he's a good man who's battling cancer and in conjunction with that battle, is taking a variety of medications that are probably messing with his whole sense of well-being and sanity.

I'm now looking for a good "story" that will convey to the group and to this guy the limited safety we have in AA meetings, but more importantly, some sort of truth about acceptable and unacceptable ways of dealing with stress and anger. When I find it, I will tell it. AA meetings are safe primarily in the sense that anyone should be able to come in and share their struggle with alcohol/drugs and not be ashamed of who they are or what they have done in the context of that struggle. AA meetings are not a safe haven for people to disclose unlawful acts, nor are the statements made in AA meetings somehow privileged from disclosure to law enforcement or legal deposition. As one group warns with a plague in their meeting room: "Notice! What you say here can be used against you in a court of law." Not only that, AAer's are particularly bad about keeping things private. To pretend otherwise is stupid and dangerous. That's why we don't share our 5th step from the podium.

So, until I do come up with this story, I am privately approaching the four people who have histories of abuse in their lives and sharing with them what I have done and that I am there for them should they want to talk.

Take care!

Mike L.

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.