Quote:
Originally Posted by RichardBrooks
I, too, got sober in AA, but that was only after I put the work into it. But I have seen people run out of meetings, and it sickens me.
The main group in my small town used to have a lot of people who also went to NA and other meetings. Most if them would call themselves alcoholics at the AA meetings and addicts at the NA meetings-- neither was a lie because they had problems with both drugs and alcohol. When some of them would introduce themselves, they'd say "I'm an alcoholic and an addict." There was a core group of oldtimers who always referred to them as "and-a's" and said if you haven't figured out what you are you aren't being honest with yourself. Something came up in a business meeting about one of the "and-a's" chairing a 'closed' meeting.
We had a speaker meeting and potluck dinner the last Sunday of each month.
There were about 50 people there two days before this particular business meeting. The next month there were five.
This was my home group. I watched it disintegrate before my eyes. I was DCM at the time, so I was heavily involved in dealing with the fallout. Those who left the first meeting began starting their own groups; other groups in the district began taking sides, and some of them split into two or more groups; some of the new groups lasted; some eventually merged; most groups just disappeared along with the people in them. Some people drank or used again. Some of them haven't made it back to the rooms yet. Some never will.
To this day, I wonder if things could have gone differently, but I think it was something that was already brewing for a long time. I don't go to meetings regularly anymore. My sponsor died a couple of years ago, and I haven't got a new one. I don't read the big book much. I do still practice the principles of the program, and I do still reach out to other alcoholics, speak at treatment centers, and other 'twelfth step' work. And I have a great respect for the Traditions AA and the Statement of Responsibility.
There is an entire chapter in the big book titled Problems Other Than Alcohol. Bill Wilson worked tirelessly with the medical and psychology communities. NA branched off from AA; it did not copy or hijack the program. There are AA purists who tend to forget those things, who forget that there is no one right way to work the program, and who tend to forget that AA did not invent sobriety.
There are also too many people in the rooms who aren't there to get sober, and others who may be sober, but still act like they're in a bar. Some go for the free coffee. Some treat it like a social club. Some treat it like a singles' mixer.
To those who have had bad experiences with AA meetings, I'm sorry that happened. That's not AA. I hope if you decide to come back you find a meeting where you can feel comfortable. But most of all, I hope you realize that-- whether it's through AA, treatment, counseling, or religion-- you can get and stay sober in spite of a crotchety oldtimer or two, in spite of anyone, even in spite of yourself.
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I had posted this in another discussion and was asked to add it here. I feel I should add a bit to it for the purposes of this thread. I have been sober just over 9 years, but my first experience with AA was about three years before that. I knew I had a problem with alcohol (plenty of other chemicals; you name it and I've done it; but only developed a dependency to alcohol), but I hadn't 'hit my bottom'. I went to a few meetings and managed to string together about three months without a drink. It was a living hell, and my first drink was blessed relief. I barely had a sober moment for the next 30 months or so. I drank 24/7, started each day with the bottle I had passed out with the night before, lost my job and home and everything that I had once listed off to convince myself I was still in control.
I resigned myself to an alcoholic death. I didn't know if it would be from liver cirrhosis or swelling of the brain, an overdose on whatever pills I was using to enhance my buzz or a car accident possibly taking out a family with me; I just knew I was going to die a drunk. I got to a point where my reaction to alcohol was completely unpredictable. I have been knee-walking drunk on four beers, and I have have been cold-stone sober after a quart of potcheen (Scottish Highland moonshine that's about a thousand proof, part wood alcohol, and could be used as jet fuel).
This went on until I was at a buddy's one New Year's Eve. We were drinking moonshine and Bacardi 151. Eventually, the only two people not passed out were me and my friend's wife, who doesn't drink anything stronger than Dr. Pepper. And she started telling me about his drinking and how it was ruining their marriage. I told her I would talk to him and see if I could get him to go to an AA meeting. It didn't work for me, but it might him. The next day I didn't have to say anything; he brought it up and told me the same thing she had: if he didn't stop he was going to lose his wife. I told him about AA and he said he'd go, but he made me promise to go with him.
There was a meeting the following night, and we hung out until then, babysitting each other and not drinking. I went to that meeting to get him to go. No other reason. I had every intention of getting drunk afterward. But something was different. Or I was different. I knew it before I even got in the door. People greeted me with smiles and open arms, something I hadn't seen in a very long time. They told me they were glad I was back; I had had family members tell me to leave and never come back. It was a discussion meeting, and I don't even remember what the topic was, but everyone who talked said something that hit home. When I spoke, I introduced myself as an alcoholic, and I believed it for the first time. I had a sponsor before I left the meeting, and I started reading the Big Book that night.
A couple months later, my friend's wife left him anyway, and he eventually started drinking again. But I didn't drink. A couple of years later, my sponsor had a relapse, which threw me for a tailspin. But I didn't drink. I went to more funerals in my first two years sober than I had ever been to before, but I didn't drink. My dad had a heart attack when I was five days sober, but I didn't drink. I fell in love, got engaged, found out she was cheating on me when she told me she was leaving me for someone else, but I didn't drink. Somewhere along the way, I stopped saying, "but I didn't drink", because somewhere along the way drinking was no longer something I even thought about. I've been on steering committees, served as GSR for my home group and DCM for my district, started a Public Information Committee to distribute literature and PSAs throughout the community. I've worked with doctors, psychiatrists, and clergy members. I've spoken at treatment centers, nursing schools, juvenile detention centers. And I've never forgot that what got me sober, and what has kept me sober every step of the way, was simply one alcoholic talking to another.
I've seen groups grow. I've seen groups fall apart. For me, I think the single best statement on the power of the program comes from a guy I sponsored. I was actually his temporary sponsor because he was my uncle, and when he asked me to be his sponsor I told him it wasn't a good idea, but I'd do it until he found someone else. On the night I gave him his 3 month chip, he told me he had been diagnosed with mesothelioma the previous day. By the time they found the cancer it had already spread to his liver and upper intestine. It was inoperable. He didn't live long enough to get his 9 month chip, but he spent the last few weeks of his life with his son he hadn't talked to in years. On that night he told me about his diagnosis, I told him I was sorry. He said, "Some people get sober to learn how to live. I guess I got sober to learn how to die. Don't be sorry. I'm not." There was a light in his eyes I had never seen before, and I knew he meant every word he said.