“When we look back, we realize that the things which came to us when we put ourselves in God’s hands were better than anything we could have planned.” Page 100, Alcoholics Anonymous.
A prospective sponsee: boozy, red-faced from shame and weeping. For anonymous purposes, we will call her Luna. A sister-woman seeking help from another; looking for open hands to hold hers; open ears by which to listen; someone open to sharing their experience, strength, and hope by working the Steps; guiding her from the present-day disaster of incomprehensible demoralization into the Sunlight of the Spirit. All bridges were burned including some photos of her only child, a daughter from whom Luna was deeply estranged.
You can get sober and stay sober, regardless of anyone
As with most alcoholics, Luna left chaos in her wake: DUIs, time in prison, theft and deceit toward family, friends, business associates, and loved ones. Theft both of money and of trust. The latest screaming match and belittling of her daughter left both daughter and mother in shellshock, with neither of them able to text or talk. Shameful silence became the painful backdrop.
Over and over in tragic tones, Luna spoke of losing her daughter’s affection because of Luna’s alcoholic, abusive behavior. Her negligent, rageful and self-pitying conduct created a chasm of space and time, seemingly impossible to bridge.
When asked about photos of her daughter, Luna replied, “I tore them all up or I threw them in my daughter’s room with all the other trash. I don’t have any photos.”
I replied, “How can you get your daughter back if you can’t visualize her with you? How can she stay with you if her room is full of trash?
Then the words came to me: “You can get sober and stay sober, regardless of anyone. The only condition is that you trust in God and clean House. So, trust me. And let’s start cleaning house.”
Trust God means working Steps 1 through 3. When we admit to the God of our understanding we are powerless over alcohol and our difficulties, we no longer come from a place of fear. We come from a place of trust. Trust in God’s will for us is to: Step 1. Get sober. Step 2. Get sane. Step 3. Get serene
Gently building on one another. Sober. Sane. Serene.
Clean House: “Clean up your daughter’s room,” I said. “Bring out photos of you and your daughter together. Let’s start where we are.” Luna found the crumpled photos of her with her daughter; straightened them; and used them to decorate her dining room table . Within days, the daughter began to text her mother.
Theft both of money and of trust
As the daughter’s room began to clear, the daughter not only sent Luna a Mother’s Day a card, she called her. The daughter called Luna. For the first time in six years, mother and daughter spoke in loving terms. For the first time in a long time, the daughter got to hear her mother say, “Honey, I’m sober 40 days.”
She got to hear her mother was supported by a sponsor, attended daily meetings, and had accepted a Power greater than herself.
A Visa card of $50 was included with the Mother’s Day card. When Luna got a manicure, to get “tips,” we created this photo to send to the daughter as an assurance: Luna’s hands, on her sponsor’s Big Book, on which is written the Serenity Prayer. Our hands, in God’s Hands, together for the creation of Sobriety, Sanity, and Serenity.
Step 12. “Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics and practice these principles in all our affairs.”
Only a few weeks sober, I marched into my favorite bar in Santa Monica, California, and commenced to announce that I was attending AA meetings. I also pointed out to my imbibing friends that they were probably alcoholics and that they needed to join me, pronto. Not only did my bar room popularity go south at that point, but so did our 11th Tradition of attraction rather than promotion.
Best to bring out the aspects of AA that will dispel any preconceived fear
Of course, I was ill prepared to carry the AA message. I had little notion what the Twelve Steps were, save from my own vague interpretations from the club house pull-down shades. My honeymoon enthusiasm did not qualify me as having had a spiritual awakening (orexperience) as the result of these steps.” (Spiritual Awakening means slowly, SpiritualExperience means suddenly—p. 567)
Eventually, after absorbing the clear-cut directions from the Big Book, I busily began sharing my newfound sobriety with other members, but when some of them relapsed I was disappointed. However, I took solace in that Step 12 tells us only that: “we tried.” However, I believe that it is vitally important that I continue to keep on trying regardless of results: “Nothing will so much insure immunity from drinking than intensive work with other alcoholics.” (P. 89). Vital means lifesaving—that means me!
I have found it best not to dwell on the steps when making my first visit to a newcomer, but to casually drift the conversation into some of my drinking experience, good and bad; happy and sad; but explain why I needed to stay sober. Then explain how the AA fellowship helped me to obtain my period of sobriety. Of course, never mentioning that he or she is an alcoholic—this is best for them to ascertain!
I believe it is best to bring out the aspects of AA that will dispel any preconceived fear, such as: “The only requirement for membership is a desire to stop drinking;” explaining our principle of anonymity; that we have no dues or fees; that we have no rules or laws; that AA is not affiliated with any religion or outside organization. Explain that we are not a treatment center, although we sometimes cooperate with treatment facilities. I believe it is important to tell how we have grown to over two-million members around the world in the last eighty-plus years. The point is to replace newcomer doubt with hope! Then I like to share about my personal sobriety. The point is that the new person will have hopeful expectations before his or her first meeting.
The new person leaves with appropriate literature from the meeting rack
Upon leaving this “first meeting” I believe it is paramount that the new person leaves with appropriate literature from the meeting rack, but not too much—just three or four items. The titles make it obvious which ones are appropriate. If the new person leaves with a Big Book, I never tell them to read the first 164 pages—maybe just The Doctor’s Opinion, along with some of the personal stories. A farmer once told me: “You don’t feed a newborn calf a bale of hay, but just a little milk.”
Of course, I point out from the meeting directory where the next meeting might be best and exchange phone numbers or email addresses. If time allows, I like to have a meeting-after-the-meeting to provide a welcome and happy atmosphere. First impressions are very important for a lost and lonesome new AA member. These are just a few of my thoughts.
Understanding is the key to right principles and attitudes, and right action is the key to good living; therefore, the joy of good living is the theme of A.A.’s Twelfth Step. (Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, pg. 125) How appropriate it seems that there are twelve months in a year, and we have twelve steps in the program. The joy of good living is the theme, and it blends right in with Thanksgiving in November, all the religious holidays in December, and is topped off with the New Year’s Eve celebration. The Holiday season does bring a lot of joy to most of us, but it also brings distress to some of the less fortunate ones who have not yet been blessed with the gift of sobriety and peace of mind, in and outside of Alcoholics Anonymous. (A.A.)
I used to be uncomfortable about the holidays
I used to be uncomfortable about the holidays, as I never knew how to act around normal people. I felt like a charity case and never got into the spirit of reaching out to others. My family always celebrated Christmas, and I always (due to my discomfort) would put a damper on it by complaining about the tacky gifts that people would buy for each other, the mad rush to go shopping and all the commercializing it had become. I explained this to a dear friend once, and he asked, ”Does the rest of the family enjoy it?” I said yes. He then said, ”Why don’t you just take a back seat and watch the joy in their eyes as they experience these things?” I did that exact thing and have been doing it ever since. It has changed my appreciation of this time of year.
This change of attitude has inspired me to apply the unselfish lessons that I have come to understand, and I spend the holiday season looking for the opportunity to brighten the lives of those less fortunate than myself. I often do these things anonymously and without fanfare. I also consider how I used to feel when I was the one on the receiving end of a charitable gesture and am very careful to do these things in a way that preserves their dignity. I do not have to wait for the holidays to do these things. Every day is Christmas at my home.
More recently I started to contemplate the difference between joy and happiness; I always thought that they were synonymous. They are in some respects, but they do have some different qualities. I am a happy person as the result of being very diligent when it comes to working the steps of the program and practicing the principles in all my affairs. I am not without the little inconveniences and irritations that come with my day-to-day living activities, but they are nowhere near the problems I encountered prior to becoming a member of Alcoholics Anonymous. They do not lower my level of happiness because I simply take them as they come. Over a period, as I mature in this journey, my mean level of happiness continues to rise, and I am generally very happy as the result.
I contemplate the difference between joy and happiness
When I look at the word joy, I do not feel that I am in a constant state of joy, but I do have many little things that happen on a day-to-day basis that rise above my state of happiness. They sometimes bring tears to my eyes. We all can identify with the term “tears of joy.” Even unhappy people can have tears of joy occasionally. I was introduced to the principle that “happiness is a byproduct of right living and not an end in itself.” I have been living by that principle ever since and you can believe me when I tell you that I reap more than my share of joy.
A sober ex-husband steps up to help his sober ex-wife clear her criminal record.
To whom it may concern,
I am writing to ask you to expunge the criminal record of Michele S. As her former husband and an active member of Alcoholics Anonymous for more than 19 years, I feel well qualified to comment on her recovery.
I have known Michele since 1973 when she worked for me in Berkeley. We became best friends and we were married in 1976. For the next 15 years, she was the most loving, kindest and caring person I had ever known. In 1991-92 I witnessed her decline into drug addiction, but as the person closest to her I also witnessed her suffering through the demoralizing guilt and remorse over the crimes she committed.
Since her recovery started in 1992 I have been privileged to watch her not only return to the wonderful person drugs and alcohol had taken away from all who loved her, but also enjoy an unparalleled growth that continues to this day. That growth began with her successful completion of the Center Point Program. Her work as a counselor at St. Anthony Farms Recovery Center led her to complete a state certification program and eventually to her job at Serenity Knolls.
While she has continued her work in the recovery field, Michele has been of continuous service in her private life – giving unselfishly of her time and resources, being there for friends and family, sharing her astonishing spirit with all in need.
Michele and I divorced amicably in 2006, but I still consider her my best friend. She has taught me more about honesty, courage and unconditional love than anyone. To expunge her record and allow her to advance professionally unencumbered would be a great gift to a well-deserving woman.
I woke up on the ground at Seventh and Market. The check cashing place was on the corner, and I was lying next to a man I didn’t even know. He was just someone there. I fell asleep, woke up and started walking away. I had the shakes really bad and felt empty with nothing inside. I tried to figure out what to do because I had to do something. I’d been living on the street for twenty years and here I was at forty knowing I had to have a plan but didn’t have a clue. I kept walking.
I had to learn to tie my own shoes
I thought the shakes might get better if I walked away from where I was. I ended up in a women’s homeless shelter on Turk and Mason. A friend who worked there sat down and prayed with me. We were both Native American, I am a Navajo, Sioux and I don’t know her tribe, but she was a really good friend, and I could see she was sober. She gave me ten dollars to go to detox and I started thinking, “What would I do with two or four dollars?” It wouldn’t do me any good, but I held onto it until I got to detox. I stayed in the shelter until a space in a program came up. They let me stay longer knowing I was eventually going into a program.
I ended up in a Native American Indian program called Friendship House. There are therapists and psychiatrists on staff. They provide groups, individual therapy, spiritual needs, and Native American sweats. It’s co-ed and they provide services for all cultures throughout the states. They have clients from all over North America.
In the beginning, I had so far to go. I had to learn how to be a mom, how to tie my own shoes, and to remember to pick up my daughter. I learned to go to work every day and to get my small family on a schedule.
I work with families, helping them find permanent housing
This was my second time at Friendship House. The first time I’d gone there for a guy and had stayed less than ninety days. I was not there for myself, and it didn’t last as I was drinking and pretty much an emotional wreck. I’d loved someone I couldn’t have, a man who loved his drugs more than anything. I’d had a daughter so there were many contingencies.
My life is full of blessings
My second stint at Friendship House, I was without children to bring along and there for myself. I completed the two-year program and afterwards, moved to Harbor House with the Salvation Army. It was 2003 and I’ve been there ever since.
I’m now a resident operations manager at Harbor Lights on Ninth and Harrison with the Salvation Army. I work to keep the building safe from intruders and I work with families that have been homeless or lived in their cars, helping them find permanent housing.
Today I live in an apartment with my dog. My daughter is twenty years old with a child of her own and she works in health care. I’m living a full life and go to meetings regularly. I must keep going forward so I won’t ever fall again. My life is full of blessings. I use sage and cedar as part of my Native American beliefs and pray every day. I’ve held onto my seat like they told me. The membership loved me until I learned to love myself.
On October 18, 2021, I celebrated eighteen years sobriety.
I had a drinking problem long before I was ever able to honestly admit that simple fact to myself. So many times, too many to count, I would stare at myself in the mirror, reliving the events of the previous 24 hours and wonder why that face staring back at me had done those things. I mentally could not connect the fact that the face into whose eyes I peered was mine. That face at which I stared, who had driven into oncoming traffic in a blackout or had just been released from incarceration following an alcohol-related traffic stop, was not me. It was just a reflection of that person I did not want to be — but was. I could not be honest with myself about that harsh reality.
When big-time marital discord drove me towards a solution rather than a drink one day, the thought of attending a 7:00 AM meeting as suggested by that anonymous voice on that anonymous 24-hour a day hotline, seemed a half-baked idea that was equally only coolly received by me. That the location was on my route to work and barely five minutes from my home was small consolation.
Only illusions of Snoopy as the WW I Flying Ace and his Dawn Patrol comics character succeeded in bolstering my efforts to make that meeting despite its ridiculously early hour. Since this was the only meeting I attended for the first two months, I did not know that their practice of not reading How It Works was unusual. I had my own Big Book, to demonstrate to my spouse that I was working the steps. But having a Big Book and reading it were two very different things.
Picturing Snoopy as the WW I Flying Ace bolstered my efforts
The result was that I failed to grasp the principle of honesty which was fundamental to the start of my recovery. While I had been honest about starting to attend daily meetings, an admission needed to stave off (at least for the moment) divorce court, the little asides about having a sponsor, working the steps and not drinking between meetings were all false. I am sure it was no surprise to those who tolerated my occasional complaints during the meetings, I had tried to remain anonymous you see and this included saying nothing to anyone, that I was not getting the benefit of How It Works. For me this time could only be described as my continuing journey through Hell.
WW I Flying Ace Snoopy helped me get to a meeting
Thankfully my miracle, and the hope for those who follow, coincided with my first honest statement about my drinking. At the time I did not know of this coincidence. It was later pointed out to me by someone who heard my story several months after I got sober. She observed that is was immediately after I had, for the first time, honestly told my 7:00 AM group that I was a newcomer that my fortunes had begun to change for the better.
I finally hung around long enough after the meeting to talk
Men in the meeting started to reach out to me to share their experiences and I finally hung around long enough after the meeting to talk to them. They talked to me about the difficulties I was facing as a newcomer, how best to confront them and how to stay sober when doing so. I was inspired by one woman’s tale about getting sober only because she wanted her children back in her life, a dream I had. She was able to explain the uphill battle before me and that, even in rejection (which I was to experience like she had), I could stay sober. One old timer after kind, but daily, quizzes about whether I drank the day before, gave me her 16 year chip so I could “lean” on her sobriety when I needed to. Sadly, cancer took her before she could get 17 years, but I have her chip in my pocket, cuddling mine for the same time, reminding me I am never alone in my daily struggle.
In the 20/20 vision hindsight provides, it is now easy to see how the principle of honesty was the key to my salvation. Without it, my lies to myself about the effects of my drinking and the people it was harming, prevented me from effectively taking my first step in recovery. Thereafter, the rigorous honesty my sponsor has schooled me in over the years has often been a real challenge. I would not be honest were I to pretend the case to be otherwise. However, with the aid of my higher power, I have been developing a better sense on when I should just keep quiet and exercise that restraint of tongue and pen. In such moments, I have found that, at worse, I may be only considered the fool, but when I rashly or imprudently open my mouth, as is my bane, I invariably remove all doubt. As for How It Works, I have come to believe it was no coincidence that the founders of the program which saved my life mentioned honesty three times in the opening salvo – they were just relaying the honest truth of their recovery.
I was hung over again, head pounding, in a terrible mood. It was also a school morning so I was rushing with breakfast and lunches for my two kids and getting myself ready for work. I went to get milk from the fridge where the cat was weaving back and forth, making a fuss to be fed. I stuck my foot under its belly and hefted it out of my way. Roughly. The cat yowled. My kids yelled, “Mom, what are you doing?” I slammed the fridge door shut by way of an answer.
When I was hungover like that, I just wanted everyone and everything to get out of my way and now! Today I cringe at the memory of what my kids had to put up with when I was drinking, never mind booting the innocent kitty out of my way.
Following another horrible hangover at Thanksgiving in 1984 I put myself back on the wagon, which I had done many times before. I was always shocked that even after years of not drinking I still couldn’t have one sip, or one glass, without getting drunk – sick drunk. The fun had stopped years ago but I still harbored the illusion that maybe it’d work for me like it used to. Maybe this time it would relieve the tension I’d feel going into a strange setting, maybe it’d help me just one more time to shake off the rough day at work and be a more relaxed happy mom. But instead I’d turned into a mom who kicked the cat and put our lives in danger on the freeway.
I’d turned into a mom who kicked the cat and put our lives in danger on the freeway
Now it was Christmas and without my nightly bottle of wine I was restless, irritable and discontent while others around me were full of the joys of the season. I decided to celebrate in the spirit of grandiosity and throw a British-style Christmas party for all my clients. But I just couldn’t imagine Christmas without sherry. Even though in my mind I wasn’t going to drink it, I thought I would find a way to use it in a recipe so I bought something cheap from Safeway and began cooking.
Pies were in the oven and I thought I should now make a sauce using the sherry. A sauce for what didn’t really matter, the important thing in that moment seemed to be opening the sherry. I just couldn’t keep my eyes off that bottle. I’ll never forget the comforting thunk of the cork as it sprang free and the smell of that cheap sherry that seemed to instantly seduced me, like the whiff of an old lover’s aftershave.
I couldn’t resist its lure. Without a second thought I began guzzling straight out of the bottle and within a few minutes the kitchen started spinning so badly I had to steady myself against the counter and I thought I was going to throw up. I knew I wouldn’t be able to finish the holiday pies so I called my son to the kitchen, telling him I wasn’t feeling well and to turn off the oven at a certain time. He looked at me, saw the bottle on the counter and said those words that pierced my heart “Oh Mom. You didn’t!”
Something in me just broke. I had a strong physical sensation in my chest, like a door slamming. I knew in that moment, without question that I was done drinking. In that moment, I conceded to my innermost self that I had lost all control of my drinking and was undeniably an alcoholic.
Mom, you didn’t !
I learned how to go on a date sober, go to clubs, parties, dances, to go out for coffee
I staggered off to bed and the next day, Thursday, December 20, 1984, having not slept at all, with a pounding head and a heavy heart, I walked into the noon meeting at the Marin Alano Club in San Rafael. The room was full of cigarette smoke. There were only a couple of other women, and many of the men there looked like they were on their break from a construction site, guys I wouldn’t normally mix with. But it didn’t matter. I knew I was safe and felt an instant kinship with everyone there. Most importantly, I was ready, really ready to listen to direction for the first time in my life. I had been a know-it-all, hated others telling me what to do. But all that changed, in fact had to change. I heard them say 90 meetings in 90 days. They said, “Keep coming back.” They said, “Easy does it.” They said, “One day at a time.” I soaked it all in and did my best to follow instructions. When I called other women in the program, the wisest responses were along the lines of “Well honey, I don’t know how to solve that problem but I do know not drinking and getting to a meeting will help.” And it always did.
Following directions, eventually I found a sponsor, worked through the steps and in turn re-worked all the steps with sponsees. It’s a wheel that keeps on turning and each day I get to start again. I still appreciate waking up without a hangover and a clean slate for the new day. I ask God to let me be of service, however it would be in the best interest of the other person. It’s not always comfortable or convenient, but I’ve learned how to stretch out of my little comfort zone and little by little I make spiritual progress. I notice my reactions are kinder; I’m slower to anger; I make sure to stay connected to God through the 11th Step. Each night I review the day for things that might have been done better and write a gratitude list for all the blessings I enjoy.
Through God’s grace I haven’t found it necessary to take a drink for any reason including divorce, breakups, deaths, illness, loss, financial concerns, and I can take no credit for that. We don’t get sober on our own, nor do we stay sober without ongoing attendance at meetings and working the steps with a sponsor.
Over the years I’ve learned to mourn sober, to cry and write and talk out the pain of loss and disappointment through the 4th and 5th steps. I’ve learned how to look at myself honestly, accept my human frailty, be satisfied with “progress not perfection,” and do my best to amend behaviors that are harmful to myself and others.
Old habits die hard, but the new habit of sobriety was oh so much easier than the shame and guilt that came with hangovers and cringing at ugly memories of bad behavior. The new habit of going to meetings – ninety in ninety for my first 3 months – was a revelation. After a year or so I learned how to go on a date sober, go to clubs, parties, dances, to go out for coffee, ice cream, movies, join a church, take walks on the beach – all without alcohol, something I could never have imagined possible.
Over time I’ve also learned how to be a better friend, parent, listener, team member. I don’t take offense nearly as easily as I used to. Through the 4th and 5th Steps I became aware of how my actions affect others, and even though I know I’m not responsible for how others react, I can be more sensitive to the fact that others have feelings and take those into consideration. I think things through a little better instead of instantly giving others a piece of my mind because that would make me feel better in the moment. The instant gratification monkey stays safely in its cage.
In AA we learn about the benefits of pausing when agitated and I’ve found that my daily practice of the 11th Step slows me down. I actually do get to pause before speaking or acting. I had a really awful habit of interrupting, I just couldn’t wait to share my thoughts and opinions, but I’m learning to wait my turn and hold my tongue. I’m still me, but an improved version. Thank you AA for the incredible, blessed makeover.
“More than most folks, alcoholics are tortured by loneliness … There was always that mysterious barrier we could neither surmount nor understand” (Twelve Steps & Twelve Traditions, Step Five). How did our authors know we were coming along some 86 years later? Paul B., who lived with the Lakota Indian nation, came to understand through their teachings that loneliness is particular to humankind. When I tell you, “I’m lonely,” you know what I’m talking about. Likewise, when you say, “I’m lonely,” I know what you are talking about. There’s no need to quantify, qualify or clarify our feelings of loneliness.
Lakota elders told Paul the cure for loneliness is found through the human touch. They went on to tell how, through the human touch, we can find Great Spirit / higher power. Great Spirit comes through connection with one another. As alcoholism means disconnection, recovery is connection. And through our connections we find a source and strength greater than ourselves.
The cure for loneliness is found through the human touch
Our meetings, on the phone, on Zoom, or in person, provide that connection, that “touch” for one another. Since the pandemic, we seldom hold hands and chant the way we once did. Nonetheless, we still touch one another as we give voice to our loneliness with our shares and ease our lonesomeness with our commitments to bring us to the meetings.
meetings, on the phone, on Zoom, or in person, provide that connection, that “touch” for one another
On the afternoon my mother died, I went to a meeting. At the Reno Triangle Club, I found myself taking in a meeting. Not drinking. But oh, so sick at heart! So lonely! Wouldn’t you know? The young woman sitting next to me said her father died only 3 days previously. Instantly, we had connection. No, who set that up, do you suppose?
Next came a cold January afternoon at the San Rafael Alano Club and I’m sharing my grief around my mother’s death. Wouldn’t you know? Sitting next to me is a grief recovery specialist and a long-time member of our fellowship, Caroline. After the meeting, Caroline informs me she happens to be a grief recovery specialist and she can help me. Who set that up?
Not only did she support me through my grief recovery, she also insisted I find a newcomer. Even through the depths of my grief, I agreed. Within 24 hours, up comes a smiling newcomer, asking for my sponsorship. Who set that up?
Together we worked Step 1. She with her powerless situation over alcohol; I with my powerless situation over death. Together we found Hope in Step 2 and the sense of sanity as described in that Step. The 12 Steps are for the lonely to find companionship, connection, and Great Spirit. A very Great Spirit indeed. 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.
