the years the alcoholic develops a three-dimensional ability at picture building, which is a kind way of saying that alcoholics are adept liars. So that by really taking the First Step—admitting freely and without reservation that he is an alcoholic—a person starts to build a new pattern of thought. The whole, at last, is fabricated from truth rather than wishful thinking or fantasy.
John B.
New York, New York
I Had Lost the War!
November 1952
It didn't take me five minutes to admit that I am an alcoholic. It's true that I had always rationalized that I had lost a battle, when in reality I had lost the whole war. Yes, at long last I surrendered unconditionally.
A while ago a speaker said that it was no use admitting that one was an alcoholic unless the admittance was accompanied by a realization of what being an alcoholic really meant. The next time I heard the speaker he persuaded me that I wasn't finished with the First Step yet. He said there was no use my making the admission even in the full realization of what it meant, unless I accepted the fact that I was an alcoholic without resentment. That took a little longer; but finally, after having the resentment removed I thought I could honestly say I had fulfilled the three conditions he laid down. Admission, realization, acceptance. From now on, all I had to do was to take this Step each day, and then devote my thoughts to the other 11. All sweet naiveté! To think that a mind soaked with alcohol would so easily change its habits of thinking and rationalization. John Barleycorn dropped the direct attacks like an experienced campaigner and started a flanking attack coupled with some smooth fifth-column work.
I began to read some other works on alcoholism as well as the Big Book. A natural interest, you might say, for an alcoholic. In all sincerity some of these books as well as seeking a “cure” were also hoping to learn something about “prevention.” I began to ask myself—How and when did I become an alcoholic? Did I become an uncontrolled drinker five years ago? Or was it ten? Could I have been born with alcoholic tendencies? These and many more questions surged through my mind.
The same speaker now told me that there was no use in my wondering why or when I became an alcoholic for the very simple reason that it wouldn't change my condition; even if I did find the answer, I would still be an alcoholic.
The clergy, the scientists, the medical profession, the social workers, all have good and legitimate reasons for seeking the answer to “how and when,” but do I? The Twelve Steps told me “to try to carry the message.” They didn't mention my becoming an expert on alcoholism, its prevention and cure. Actually do I really care about the future generations? Perhaps I should, but truthfully, my charity hasn't developed to that extent yet.
Why then, was I concerned with how or when I became an alcoholic? I know now. Subconsciously or otherwise, I was making a last desperate attempt to get out from under. Somebody else, or something else was going to accept the responsibility for my plight. My fault? Perish the thought. Wasn't it enough that I admitted my condition, realized what it meant, and accepted the fact without resentment? Did I have to accept the blame too?
Apparently I had. Funny thing—it doesn't seem to matter much to me now, “how or when.” My interest in future generations is confined to wishing well to those who legitimately seek the answers. I still have too many “selfish” things to look after before I can become “unselfish” enough for that.
Anonymous
Toronto, Ontario
I Was Just Run-of-the-Mill
March 1953
To all outward appearances, many things and circumstances in my life are much the same as they were three years ago: same husband, same house, same economic standard, same community interests. But to me and to my close family and friends who are observing, these things and I are greatly changed. These changes have come about since my faltering and almost disinterested approach to AA.
I did not think myself alcoholic, and if I had, probably would have tried to conceal it, had I not learned that alcoholism is a disease no more to be ashamed of than diabetes or tuberculosis.
My symptoms were similar to those of many others, no very exclusive ones peculiar to my very special case. For some time I was aware of the fact that I could not depend on me especially after that first drink. My former enthusiastic interest in my home, the appreciation of the beautiful rural surroundings in which I live, the enjoyment in my dogs, my music, my interest in the several community projects in which I worked was waning and in some instances had disappeared. Worst of all, my attitude toward my fine husband was changing to the point where my love for him was rather vague and detached. Sometimes I wondered what was happening and became thoroughly miserable over it but I always found that a cocktail or two magically changed the complexion of things, temporarily at least, and it was always tomorrow that I would face reality. Aside from one incident, there was nothing to indicate to the casual observer what was slowly and insidiously eating at my very soul.
Like many others in AA to whom I have talked, it was easy to admit that my life was unmanageable but not that I was powerless over alcohol, the latter for several reasons. I did not drink in great quantities. Sometimes, because it was not convenient, I would not have anything for as long as six months. I had never promised myself nor anyone else that I would not drink again. The only person who had suggested it was my husband and I could see no reason for it. However, after being informed on alcoholism, the first part of the First Step was relatively easy for me.
To receive this education on alcoholism, I spent every day for two weeks from noon until midnight in one of the AA clubs of a neighboring city, where I talked to men and women of all ages and wide experience every night. I went there with the idea of looking over the situation and deciding whether I would be interested in the program or would condescend to associate with any of the adherents. What a revelation to my ears and eyes awaited me!
I was just run-of-the-mill.
Those people were all sober and they were all happier than I had been for at least five years. Toward the end of the two weeks, I had learned that I was an alcoholic, that my case was just run-of-the-mill. I was not special at all. I had also learned that if I continued to drink, it was not impossible, indeed it was highly probable, that my material circumstances would change for the worse, my health would decline and my mind become more befuddled and foggy … all these if something worse did not get me first! But I also learned that my disease could be arrested, if I would accept the Twelve Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous as a way of life, and best of all I would be happy again, would feel love in my heart, would enjoy God's beauties and would be anxious to give of myself in service to others. I learned I must not only accept the Twelve Steps but must work each one as written, in the order named, each day that it is my privilege to greet; and from that time on, my life should be made up of twenty-four-hour periods.
The simplicity of the whole thing appealed to me. What a relief to “turn everything over" after the highly complicated design I had for living! Now that the days have lengthened into a few years, my husband is beloved and cherished, the house has become a home again and some of the community projects have progressed because of my willing service. Best of all, there have been invisible changes in me and each day my heart sings as I try to do His will for me. All this did not happen overnight. It required diligent working of the Twelve Steps and application of the principles, and the task is far from accomplishment, but the dividends are growing.
Even though I am the granddaughter of a clergyman, the daughter of a clergyman, the niece of four clergymen, and the cousin of three clergymen, God had never been real to me and it certainly had never occurred to me to get him mixed up in my problems. Strange that I should find my God
