HERE’S TO YOUR HEALTH

This week’s HTYH is a continuation of Scott’s story: Insanely paranoid falls short of describing my feelings the first time I crawled thru the doors of Alcoholics Anonymous. I was running when nobody was chasing me and believed that everybody was talking about me. Everything, of course, was about what I wanted, or couldn’t get and what I couldn’t get was because of a multitude of faceless conspirators. I was soul sick, paranoid, desperate, full of resentment and fear. I especially resented people at A.A. meetings who were joking, laughing and enjoying themselves instead of pitying poor me—if they had my problems they’d be suffering too.
After a few months in A.A. I got a sponsor and focused my anger on him, but it bothered him not and instead boomeranged on me. In the beginning, the old geezer listened more than he talked and I liked that, but after he finished listening, his smile faded and he transformed into somebody I didn’t like. He said, “It’s time to work the steps” and he wasn’t bluffing—he was heart attack serious. He said, “We have a fatal illness and if it’s left untreated our lives will end in suicide, homicide, or being institutionalized.” My choices were to either sober up, get locked up, or covered up and furthermore I was where no human power could help me. But, he said, “If you’re willing to work the 12 suggested steps, attend more meetings and do a few simple daily actions, a power greater than yourself will manifest itself in your life and fix what’s wrong with you.”
He insisted that I get on my knees next to him and say the “Third Step Prayer.” I said, “I don’t believe in that crap.” He said, “I don’t care what you believe, I’m not telling you what to believe, I’m telling you what to do and if you won’t do it then get another sponsor. He said that if I thought all the people at A.A. meetings were jerks—I was the jerk. He showed me in the Big Book where it said that life is like a mirror that reflects our attitude back at us and if my life sucked it was because my daily actions sucked and I must change them or die drunk. If life wasn’t treating me right he said it’s because you aren’t treating life right—if I wasn’t getting respect it was because I wasn’t showing any.  
Instead of working the steps, going to meetings and practicing different daily actions I walked away from A.A. and continued my search for an easier softer way. I was treating my alcoholism with heroine when my father had a massive heart attack and stroke and I was loaded when he died. Remorse, guilt and shame overwhelmed and mentally paralyzed me. I was not there for my mother, brother, or family and I felt totally worthless. I swore that I’d never stick another needle in my arm and I didn’t, for 13 weeks. I isolated myself and stayed in psychiatric therapy. When I wasn’t drunk and high on heroine, I self-medicated with marijuana. By adding pot to the equation it mellowed me somewhat, but the depression always returned.  Normal people get nauseated and puke if they drink too much alcohol but not those of us who are alcoholic—it makes us feel woefully wonderful.  
If you’re new to A.A. please stick around long enough to learn about the alcoholic’s mental obsession, an idea that overcomes all others and the physical craving that begins with that “first” fatal drink of alcohol. Once I rearranged my life to include plenty of alcohol and all of the other crap it was the beginning of the end–it caused a soul sickness in me that no words could describe. As bizarre and unlikely as this phenomenon sounds to new people–it is the ugly truth. To be continued.