for God to take my will and my life, as he had done early in my sobriety, but my alcoholism was creeping back into my life, demanding to reassert its central place. As my physical and fiscal health returned, I felt my initial elation and freedom slowly turning to a vague dissatisfaction, a mounting sense of “not enough.” Enough what? I asked myself, stymied.
My feelings were hurt more frequently, small things began to increasingly irritate me, and the quiet moments I used to relish were becoming (dare I say it?) boring. The spiritual intoxication I had felt while placing my entire faith in taking the Steps was waning. I realized that as the terror of facing myself and my wrongs subsided and as my amends were made and accepted, so had my urgency to leave things in God's hands.
My alcoholism was now counseling me to whip my finances into further shape to make up for lost time, or to finish the book that my drinking had abruptly halted five years ago, or, better yet, to cling to my partner and feed off his 20 years of recovery. I tried to resist by willpower and praying for the strength to thwart my ancient compulsions, petitioning God for balance in my life, but I was clearly failing. Fearful that I would succumb entirely to my old demons, I continued to read the Big Book with my sponsor.
One night while we were reading “The Family Afterward,” I felt the solution might lie there. I marked with a star certain lines that jumped out at me. Back home, my partner asked me what I'd gotten out of the reading. I turned to the starred paragraphs and told him, hesitantly, that after months of living in our apartment and rarely going out, I was getting restless. I knew that diving into meaningless activity would only feed my old obsession. I told him I'd like to allow God to replace my spiritual make-believe world with one in which I worked with a great sense of purpose.
I had already commenced work with other alcoholics and much more of God had been revealed, increasing my understanding of him. But the small town we lived in held few work options that appealed to me. My partner had encouraged me to teach reading to the teenagers at the group home where he worked. Others had asked me to work at the community center with young adults and children, and there were other leads.
I had always wanted to work with teens. I thought this might be an avenue.
The next day after my morning meditation, I received a call. The teens at the group home were organizing a talent show, and they asked me to judge. It felt like a sign and, despite the busy holiday season, I accepted with an open mind and a willing heart. I opened the Big Book again and another starred entry made me smile. “We have found nothing incompatible between a powerful spiritual experience and a life of sane and happy usefulness ... So we think cheerfulness and laughter make for usefulness ... We have recovered, and have been given the power to help others.”
The teens sang with their hearts and danced with inspiration. Family members in attendance applauded with appreciation at the talent on display. So I thought of something positive to say for each contestant. After the last note, the teens mingled with the audience. We announced the winners, to loud applause. Then I waded forth among the teens and praised the performances of as many as I could. They flushed with success and pride.
And I felt uplifted.
I do not yet know God's design for my work. Nor need I, until he guides me to it. All I need to do is pray that I do my part each day. In this way, each day I turn my ongoing spiritual experience into a sane and happy usefulness among my fellow travelers.
Marie S.
Nome, Alaska
It's a Privilege
December 2003
I woke up on Friday, May 24, and finished off a bottle of vodka. I then went to work and was excused at about 10:30. Although my boss insisted someone else drive, I drove home by myself, stopping for a bottle on the way. My shame and remorse were so great that the only option I was entertaining was suicide. I went to an afternoon haircut appointment and continued to drink afterward. At home, I picked up a gun I had stolen and held it to my head; I couldn't pull the trigger. I shot a round of buckshot into the ceiling instead. I got into my car and drove to a bar ten miles away. Later, someone was kind enough to drive me home. I was in a blackout and came to a few miles from my home. So I decided to return to my automobile, which I promptly crashed into a parked car. I flipped it on impact, and my forearm was crushed. I came to in the hospital to find that my arm had been amputated.
By the grace of a spiritual experience, the help of a chaplain, and the Fellowship, I was able to accept my loss. I have acknowledged my powerlessness and have made the decision to be happy. I am mindful to live unselfishly and quietly, following AA's spiritual principles and the examples of others. I listen and feel for the teaching of my God, and I ask for instruction.
It has been ten months since my loss and I have been given a faith that brings me the courage to be myself, one day at a time. It is only in the moment that I can live, or I would give up. I placed all my marbles on the table, bargaining with alcohol and in denial of life. I have come to understand what a privilege it is to be alive and to have contact with other people, places, and things. I am forever indebted to Alcoholics Anonymous.
Anonymous
I'm Not Broken
December 2009
I am an intellect. I was told early on that this was a simple program and not to complicate it. A couple of years into the program I found myself in a place of turmoil. I was reworking my Steps with a new sponsor and searching daily for aspects of my personality that I wanted to continue to improve. Having worked through the Steps before, I had worked on many of my primary traits already. I was no longer doing a lot of the things that used to leave me ashamed and regretful at the end of the day. I was sleeping contentedly most nights, and I was really starting to enjoy the woman I was seeing in the mirror. There were still things, though, that would plague my daily inventory and were constantly turning around in my mind. The solution suddenly came to me one night while listening to a Big Book study on CD. The speaker was talking about Bill W.'s early experiences prior to the creation of AA. He referred to how Bill had tried self-will, had tried the church, and had even tried working with a psychologist, hoping it would improve his emotional problems enough for him to remain sober. The speaker said, “Thank God that psychology didn't work for Bill and he discovered that the solution lies in a Higher Power. Otherwise, we'd all be sitting around all day psychoanalyzing ourselves instead of turning our problems over to a Higher Power for a solution.”
It was like the whole room became still and then something very significant clicked in my mind. I was doing my daily inventory. I knew what character defects were involved, but I had not then turned them over. I was still trying to come up with a solution on my own to fix these defects. In a way, I was still playing God. And the more I took these problems upon myself to fix, the more I was subconsciously telling myself that I was broken.
A shift took place inside me. I was not broken; I was on the path of recovery. I had a solution today and that solution was my Higher Power. It was such a relief to be reminded that I could surrender my issues to my Higher Power and they would be taken care of. Since that day, I have made a determined effort to focus more on seeing myself as God sees me.
Heather E.
Reston, Virginia
The Path to Power
April 2010
I recently had an experience in AA that I know is not unique, but I wish it upon no one. For a time I was raising my hand to volunteer at my home group; I was active, serving on two different committees and a sub-committee; and I sponsored a handful of guys. If you looked at my life from the outside you would say that I was “doing the deal.” I thought I was on top of the world. I was in a happy marriage with a new baby and, despite a downturn of my industry, I was employed. In spite of that, there was an uneasy feeling in my gut, a feeling that I'd been aware of many times before AA and in early sobriety, but that I hadn't felt in close to four years.
I went through the magic equation of Steps Ten and Eleven