Skip to main content

It Works

It works -- it really does. -- ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS p. 88

It just kills me when people find out I have long-term sobriety in AA then feel inclined to AA bash. "Yeah, I tried AA, but...I couldn't get past all the God stuff"; or "... People were so holier-than-thou" or "...It didn't work for me." or whatever their explanation is. They're merely excuses. The scapegoat that allowed them an escape hatch to exit a real opportunity to get sober with their ego intact. It's a mechanism of denial, one of the strongest chains that keep us bound by the disease of alcoholism. It's a lie.

The truth is that AA doesn't require that anyone believe in God. A God of their understanding or anything that they are willing to believe in that has power. Just because I made peace with God as I misunderstand Him, and it works for me, doesn't mean you have to believe as I do. I'm no authority. I have friends that stay sober on an undisclosed Higher Power, their "God with skin", vibrations, Great Spirit, Mother Nature and heard of folks using Group Of Drunks, electricity, even doorknobs (initially). There went that excuse.

AA has no single ultimate authority, no boss', no gurus. The highest achievement is sobriety. Not even sponsors nor speakers are the boss. Did you allow someone to drive you away? That's on you. Principles before personalities. Get yourself back in there, you are worth it. .

If AA just did not work for you, I would add "yet" onto that statement. As long as you're not 6 feet under, it's not too late. Get over yourself and get back in there. You have got to want it (sobriety). It works -- it really does.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Fall

Orange, gold, rust, burnt sienna, ochre, raw umber; the riot of fall colors, in the trees and at our booted feet; a drive in the countryside; the taste of hot apple cider on my lips; the satisfaction of a truckload of firewood we gathered and cut ourselves; elk herds on the move; hearty stews, savory soup, crusty whole-grain bread, pumpkin and gingerbread spice lattes; these are the memories I tap into the most this time of year. Cabela's fliers in the mailbox; Carhart's camo-clad hunters swarm outlying areas; mushroom garthering; huckleberry picking; logger burgers; forest service roads; cheese sandwiches on the woodstove; warm quilts, cool sheets, and flannel nightgowns; cold butt, warm heart.  Immensely grateful to have the well of memories to draw upon.

Lashing Out

Fed up. Sick of hearing, "I'm sorry."  Apologies don't erase the pain you inflict on me. You pull my pubic hair. Your nitrile gloves pull the hair from my head. Not once in a while but day in and day out. You turn me in a manner that suits you rather than in a manner that doesn't stress my body. Why won't you use the pad and sheet to turn me as one unit? Instead, you allow my body to twist as you hold me one-handed. How good you are at your job. What part of "my muscles are dying" don't you understand?

Shards Cling To

I just met my new psychologist and I already like her. I would say that it is effortless to talk to her, but talking to anyone through an augmentative and alternative communication (AAC) device takes a great deal of effort. One must think about what to say and drill it down concisely and succinctly, Then attempt to type it out with your eyes on a wonderous, but infuriating machine, and hope you nail the 'Speak' button, and not the 'Cancel' button. You're praying that the device doesn't spontaneously, disengage the eye gaze, leaving you mute and helpless. You're also praying that the calibration holds and your eyes don't tire or dry out. Aside from all of that, she did not overwhelm me with rapid fire questions, nor invade my personal space, by insisting on reading while I'm writing, instead of allowing me to "speak". Those things are huge. Counseling somebody with my disabilities, present unique challenges. I have major physical deficit...