The Great Connection

from the August 1996 San Diego A.A. Coordinator Newsletter

Life used to revolve around my connections. They were cultivated in every town, city, or state I lived in. See, I’m an addict and an alcoholic.

I didn’t start that way. I was born a child of God, like all of us. He never left me. I left him. I decided I could handle my fears, pain, and frustration alone. Well, I was wrong.

I didn’t realize this in a few days or weeks; no, it took years. I did things I was ashamed of, and hurt all the people who loved me. Yes, all of them. Mostly I hurt myself.

Finally, I found myself on the floor of my feelings. Physically, emotionally, mentally and spirituality bankrupt. That’s what drugs and alcohol do to people.

Desperate, I entered treatment. There, I was given an opportunity to heal. I was nourished and loved by perfect strangers. I was told I had a disease that would never go away, and I would need help to combat it, one day at a time, for the rest of my life.

Despite the fear, I realized I’d been given The Great Connection. My connection now is a Higher Power I call God. I don’t blame anyone now for getting so lost. I did that all by myself.

If you don’t know a higher power or you’ve shut his love out of your life, find The Great Connection, and feel loved.

– Barbara S., Chula Vista

Change and Recovery

from the July 1996 San Diego AA Coordinator Newsletter

I had a spiritual experience May 3, 1996 on my lanai (patio) in Chula Vista, California, because I’ve changed, and so has my recovery. I’d said my prayers and taken my spiritual nourishment for the day. I was doing that “be still and know God” thing afterwards. I’m not real good at sitting still, so I try to practice listening for God while I’m being a human being, instead of a human doing.

My mind was resting when it occurred to me and I said aloud, “My husband does everything for me.” I heard this loud voice say, “Wrong.” Then I said, “I need a wife just like me.” Again the voice said, “Wrong” and “All you need is me.”

It was God, and I knew He’d spoken to me personally. I sat real still, looked around cautiously, and laughed out loud. My dogs, Face and TC, jumped up and smiled, barked and ran around me. They heard God too. It was so exciting. Just me, the dogs and God. Initially, my excitement made me feel wonderful. The next meeting I went to, I shared about my experience, and was glad the Round Up was going on, so it was a small meeting. I guess I thought not many people would believe me or would think me crazy.

I knew God talked to Moses and a few other people, but the last time I’d heard from my Higher Power was in treatment in Boone, North Carolina. I was detoxing and had one of those dreams where there were rivers of alcohol and mountains of cocaine. I was calling Jesus in a very demanding tone and as he laid his hand on my head, I was told to “Chill out.” This struck me as an odd thing for Him to say, but it was my experience and I treasure it.

Recovery has changed me. The process has been slow, but the more willing and open minded I become, the happier I get. After a few days I was out on the lanai again, thinking; God said I was wrong twice, better think about this. I’d been so excited before, now a few days later I realized I better change my thinking. My husband does a lot for me, but not everything, so that was wrong. I’m a heterosexual woman married to a wonderful man. So I don’t need a wife just like me. Where did this thinking come from?

Straight from my pity pool. I have an abundance of most things, so I have a pity pool, not a pot. I’d been doing a lot of hard work in the yard, was trying to refinish my hardwood floors and get a small business going. So naturally I was feeling way sorry for myself.

As soon as I got grateful, my perception of the situation changed. My reality in sobriety is far greater than anything I fantasized in active alcoholism and addiction.

Recovery has changed me drastically. In January, I took a new sobriety date because I’d relapsed. Though I didn’t drink, it was only by the grace of God, and my six years of recovery in A.A.

I’d caught myself lying, in denial and out of control. This is not part of my recovery, so I was in relapse. This may be extreme, but the risk of losing the freedom recovery in A.A. has given me made me start over again. My spiritual experience was the beginning of my process of awakening. Only the extremist can see both sides and be satisfied with the middle.

I’m in the middle of a wonderful, loving, and supportive family. I don’t want to miss a moment of the music by not making the changes to sing life’s song. Life on life’s terms will do for me.

– Barbara S., Chula Vista

The Gift

from the June 1996 San Diego A.A. Coordinator Newsletter

When I was about five or six the doll under the tree
made me smile with sweet delight -- a present from mommy

When I became a teenage girl a blue bike was all the fad
hidden slyly in the basement room -- happy birthday from my dad

Then into my 20's and 30's everything from clothes to pearls
on special days and just for love -- from my pretty little girls

At 44, hidden in a book, a Hawaii trip to golden sand
on Christmas day of ‘95 -- from a very special man.

But in this past year not wrapped or hidden something has been given to me
and that has been the greatest gift of all the gift of sobriety.

I truly treasure this wonderful present and it's not fashionable or mod
but it means a brand-new life for me and it's a gift that came from God.

– Beverly L., San Diego

God, Grant Me the Willingness….

from the June 1996 San Diego A.A. Coordinator Newsletter

God, grant me the willingness just to be willing . . .” has prefaced so many prayers during my sobriety. Willingness, a character trait so easy to have when I have it, but when I don’t, can be the most elusive and the hardest to acquire.

Grant me the willingness to let go of my character defects seems to be the most elusive. This will probably never totally happen; however, from experience, I find great relief that these defects, at times, are softened; their corners seem a bit more rounded and sometimes they feel almost manageable. But then, out of nowhere, my willingness gives way and I find myself in the middle of the muddle of an old familiar defect, in all its full bloom glory, haunting me to the hilt. Back to the drawing board, “God, grant me the willingness just to be willing….”

Grant me the willingness to be humble. Again, what a wonderful feeling true humility can bring; but alas and alack I find this too, can be short term and elusive. At least I no longer must dwell in the unmeasurable amount of humiliation and degradation I used to allow myself to feel over anybody, everybody, anything, and everything. The willingness to have a new caring and respectful attitude for myself allows me to have it for others. When I’m not centered on self, when I put others first, and when I truly have love in my heart for fellow humankind, I feel deep gratitude. With gratitude I become humble. But then there’s the slip as I scream, “butthead,” on the freeway!  “God, grant me the willingness….”

Grant me the willingness to let go. To let go of obsessions of the mind and soul over resentment. To let go of worry and replace it with faith and trust. To live.in the now; frequently sweeping my side of the street; being able to say, “No”; letting go and letting God have control over my life, praying, “May your will be done in my life and may I be willing to accept it”; are all tremendous attributes in my life.

That is, until my thoughts run amuck, “I hate when this happens,” and I don’t laugh it off. I do not believe, in the overall scope of life, this tiny incident will mean absolutely nothing. No, I tuck it away and it festers and it festers. It’s then I revert to old stinkin’ thinkin’, and the resentment manifests itself inappropriately – at the wrong thing, the wrong time, the wrong person. “God grant me the willingness . . .”

Grant me the willingness to change my old attitudes and my old reactions towards people, places, things, and all of life. May I spend my time filling those voids with a positive outlook, striving to live my life as you would have me fully live it – in the most productive mode, and as happy, joyous and free as possible – always bearing in mind that you have forgiven me and all you ask of me is to forgive myself. May I accept life as it is. May I look at life’s challenges, painful as they may momentarily be, as nothing more than mere challenges forcing me to grow up just a little bit more. In the long run, each time they are lived through, challenges help to make the foundation of my sobriety just a little bit stronger.

God, grant me the willingness to faithfully go to meetings and always listen to fellow travelers who are trudging this road with me – for that is truly where I hear your voice speaking to me in a way that I can understand. May I remember and always be willing to give of myself and be of service to the downhearted who trudge along this road, and to the alcoholic who still suffers, for it is in giving it away that I am allowed to keep it. May I always be willing to do whatever it takes to stay on the recovery side of sobriety.

“God, grant me the willingness just to be willing….”

– Millie S., San Diego

A.A. and Spirituality

from the May 1996 San Diego A.A. Coordinator Newsletter

At a recent speaker’s meeting, a gentleman came up to me who has many years of sobriety. He asked, “Do you know who is the most important at an AA meeting?” I asked, “Who is that?” He answered, “God is the most important at an AA meeting.”

I agree with my friend; it’s so important to be connected to the source and power behind all meetings, and to find some meaning to our existence. I call this source God and l often use the term “spirituality” when I share. The problems recovering people have with spirituality are misunderstandings. They think that to be spiritual you must do exactly as the old-timers have done for years, or you must measure up to a certain expectation that other people are going to place upon you.

To get a better idea of spirituality, remember Bill’s words in the chapter “We Agnostics,” “To us, the Realm of Spirit is broad, roomy, all inclusive, never exclusive or forbidding to those who earnestly seek.” (Alcoholics Anonymous, p.46) I have found as many ways to spirituality as there are people in AA. Some people read the Bible, others worship upon looking at the ocean, and some find God in the little things they do for their loved ones.

Why is this important? Step Three requires that you seek a power greater than yourself: this is the way out of selfishness. Step Eleven places great emphasis on prayer and meditation. In order to have lasting sobriety you must allow this and all the steps to change you from within.

You don’t have to be perfect to enjoy a spiritual method of recovery. The Twelve Steps are general enough for anybody to understand, and they’re powerful enough to keep any alcoholic sober. So whether you are a “groupie” who loves to see the same friends at meetings. a student who finds time for a meeting between classes, or a professional who likes to catch a lunch meeting. you are welcome at AA.

I like the idea of getting spirituality through imitation. By the time I arrived at AA, I had long since left my childhood beliefs behind. So I learned by the inventories others suggested to me and by helping newcomers in some of AA’s many outreaches.

The benefits of a spiritual program are immeasurable: above all, a unity with others and a peace of mind that not only keeps you sober but will come back to you during life’s trials. I’ve lost a mother and sister since I’ve been in AA, but my reliance upon God insured my willingness to stay in meetings.

The essence of spirituality is care and compassion for others. I’ve found good AA meetings to be those with loving people. And if you’re struggling with God’s plan for you, Keep Comin’ Back until you understand the Steps for yourself.

– Donna G., East San Diego

Cultivating Recovery

from the May 1996 San Diego A.A. Coordinator Newsletter

Having Returned from a ten-day vacation, my wife and I were greeted with an enormous crop of weeds in our yard. Many of these weeds were several feet high. Among other things the weeds had completely blocked the view of several rose bushes we have growing along a side fence. Viewing the mess, I could only see the vagrant weeds encroaching upon what was once a yard we had been proud of.

My wife acted first, digging out the weeds — roots and all. I took the “Home Improvement” approach – reviving the weed eater from the garage and mixing up the appropriate weed killing chemicals. As we removed the unsightly weeds from our yard, we discovered that the rose bushes had several flowers; petunias were growing from under the dead growth that covered them; daffodils had sprung up amongst a particularly heavy growth of dandelions; brilliant red carnations were just beginning their own season of color. Over the course of a week, our yard began to take on an appearance we again could be proud of.

It occurred to me my personal program of growth and recovery is very similar to my efforts as a gardener. All plants grow, both flowers and weeds, given the right amount of sun and water. So too, will my character traits, both defects and virtues. Although virtues may develop, my character defects also grow unchecked, easily overshadowing and blocking the nutrients these virtues need for healthy growth. As with my garden, I must develop a character as free as possible from defects in order for my virtues to grow and blossom.

Our yard is not free from weeds, nor will it ever be. They are under control though, and I’m reminded of the phrase, ‘progress not perfection.’ In order to keep the weeds in check, I must embark on a daily program of cultivating the plants I want to grow and blossom. Similarly, my growth in recovery can be nurtured and developed into something I can be proud of: a program useful to others. Instead of a weed-eater and chemicals, I can use the tools of meetings, steps and prayer to ensure my garden blooms with the flowers of AA.

– Jim C., San Diego

Adventures in Sobriety

from the April 1996 San Diego A.A. Coordinator Newsletter

One of the greatest gifts that we can give ourselves is open mindedness. It was easy for me to appear to have an open mind in the beginning of my sobriety. So desperate for relief, from myself and my disease, I eagerly accepted what others told me to do and, not judging too harshly who they were or what they said. This attitude began to change after the obsession to drink had been lifted and my life had become more stable. It was then I began to stagnate.

I won’t say it was a downward spiral because it would be untrue, and I’d be selling myself and this program short. But I would be lying if I told you I’ve always given people and ideas the benefit of the doubt they deserve. I’m human and have as many or more character defects as the next person. Yet the beauty of being a human being is that we can change the parts of ourselves that have caused us, and others pain in the past. I knew it was time for an overhaul of the stagnant ideas and limiting attitudes which had crept back into my life.

It was with this in mind I woke up one Sunday morning a few months ago and decided to go to a Buddhist Temple. I don’t believe the decision was mine. I feel it was God’s way of kickin’ me in the arse. Raised in an Irish Catholic family, my parents didn’t exactly shove eastern philosophy down our throats. One can only guess or assume where my attraction to eastern thought came from. But, if there is one thing I’ve learned in sobriety, it’s to listen to that little voice inside me known as ‘intuition’.

I looked up the number of one of the local temples and called. The woman at the other end of the line confirmed that yes indeed they were having a meditation service that day. When I asked more questions, she told me to “just show up.” It kind of reminded me of talking to my sponsor. So as any good sponsee would do, I showed up.

Filled with fear and apprehension, I pulled up to the building. Being alcoholic, I’m used to dealing with that. The word scaring me the most wasn’t “Buddhist” or “temple.” It was “meditation.” This was the one thing I’d been avoiding since I sobered up. I don’t know if it’s because my brain and body never seen to want to sit still, or because I used to meditate all the time in my room when I was younger. (Of course, my version of meditation involved burning incense, a bottle of Absolut and a bowl or two of hashish.) I knew I was going to have to be still with myself for an extended period, and that was something I knew was going to be tough. I wanted the outcome, but I wasn’t too thrilled about doing the work to get it.

As it turned out, part of the Buddhist service was a half hour of sitting meditation. Let me repeat that. A half hour of sitting meditation! My nose itched, my back muscles spasmed and my right leg fell asleep about ten minutes in. But I made it through without freaking out, or disrupting anyone else. I actually enjoyed the time alone with myself. The realization hit me hard that my fear of who I am, who I’ve been and who I can become was one of the main reasons I hid in alcohol and drugs. I’d actually gotten calm enough during the meditation time to have an insight into my own makeup. It’s not really something that hasn’t crossed my mind before. Yet this time it was on a different level. It struck my soul. As I left the temple, I found a sense of peace I can’t recall having since admitting that I am powerless over alcohol.

I return to temple often. I’m not a Buddhist. I’m not Catholic. I’m an alcoholic who is searching out a spiritual life anywhere I’m led. I find — when I don’t get in my own way with fears, doubts and prejudices — I’m shown the most amazing things in the most amazing places. Be true to yourself, be true to your higher power and keep an open mind.

– John G, San Diego

What About my Family Afterward?

from the March 1996 San Diego A.A. Coordinator Newsletter

Chapter Nine of Alcoholics Anonymous tells us that “cessation of drinking is but the first step away from a highly strained, abnormal condition. . . . The entire family is, to some extent, ill.” Boy, isn’t that true? Although this statement certainly applies to my family of origin, my two children were the most seriously affected by my drinking, spending their formative years in an alcoholic home, suffering the confusion and abandonment of divorce and joint custody, burdened with responsibility for making adult decisions from an early age. Just because I got sober, I couldn’t expect the rest of the family to instantly get “well.” After all, it took years to construct a sick family dynamic. Recovery has been a slow, uphill journey for us, but its rewards are in sight.

The kids were living with their dad and his new wife during the year preceding my bottom and my first two years of sobriety. It was a blessing. I don’t think I could have found the courage to surrender and get sober had I been responsible for their parenting at that time. 1was fortunate, being able to focus on the program and my sobriety

for the first 24 months, while spending time with my children every other weekend. To be honest, those weekends were hard when I was new ly sober. Alcohol had smoothed the rough edges of parenthood for me, and I missed it. I missed it when the kids were fighting, when I didn’t feel like putting another nutritious meal on the table, when I felt like being alone.

At two years of sobriety, I regained custody of my eight-year-old daughter and six-year-old son. At first, they were angry and willful, pushing me around and disrespecting my authority. Who could blame them? They were accustomed to a weakened alcoholic mother who asked their advice on adult decisions she was too afraid to make, who opted for permissive parenting (the easier, softer way) because she was scared to discipline. Suddenly, they were expected to act like the kids and accept me as the parent. Yeah, right .. .

I loved them very much, and was grateful that sobriety afforded me the opportunity to raise and support them again, but it was hard work relearning how to be their mother. Things appeared to get worse before they got better. All the old tapes and feelings of incompetence returned to haunt me: I had failed as a mother, I lost my children during my drinking. How was I to become an effective parent when insecurity and fear plagued my every waking thought? When I couldn’t decipher between God’s will, my will, the kids’ will? Fortunately, I had worked the 12 Steps with my sponsor. I had tools available to guide me. I had women’s meetings to talk about my feelings, to heal my wounded self-image.

It has been a long haul upward toward anything like a functioning, harmonious family for my kids and me. I remarried at three-and- a-half years of sobriety, and my husband is very supportive in the child-rearing department. But, it is unfair to expect him to do all the disciplining, and I cannot just wish my family troubles away. It is my responsibility to get my kids back on track when they act out. Guilt often weakens my ability to do that. My committee says, “It’s your fault they’re ungrateful, manipulative brats! Those poor kids had a drunken mom in their formative years .. . Take them out for ice-cream .. . ” Ice-cream is not the answer. The problems only get worse when I listen to my guilt. Chapter Nine says:

“The head of the house ought to remember that he is mainly to blame for what befell his home.. . Since the home has suffered more than anything else, it is well that a man exert himself there. He is not likely to get far in any direction if he fails to show unselfishness and love under his own roof . We know there are difficult wives and families, but the man who is getting over alcoholism must remember he did much to make them so.” -Alcoholics Anonymous, pg. 127

The first few times l read this, I took it to mean, “Take them out for ice-cream.” After doing a few inventories and really exploring the instincts and motives driving me in my relationship with my children, I know that unselfishness and love can best be communicated through caring discipline. Acting out of guilt is a selfish act. It is self- serving and does the family no good.

I find that if I keep my A.A. program Number One in my life, I am a more effective parent. Let’s face it, without my sobriety, I would have no family. All the steps are useful tools in learning to become a good mother. “Take the action, the feelings will follow” is an applicable mantra in braving a job for which I sometimes feel inadequate. I seek outside help, when appropriate. I continue to work on mustering the courage to enforce rules for respect and obedience in our home, through prayer, meditation, inventory, and especially talking to other sober moms who have lived through similar experiences.

Responsible parenting is part of the living amends I make to my children on a daily basis. It is more important than saying, “I’m sorry I was drunk when you were little.” Wallowing in guilt and remorse doesn’t work for my family today. The best way I can make up for being a lousy parent in the past is to be a grownup now. It’s scary, but with God’s help, a new-found sense of self from working the steps, and support from my sponsor and others in the program, I can discipline my kids today. Ironically, they are much happier and actually feel more loved when I say “no” when it is appropriate and when bad behavior results in consequences. We’re all recovering from the effects of alcoholism and continue our endeavor to relearn what it means to live together as a family .

–Anonymous., San Diego, CA

Throw Up The White Flag

from the August 1993 San Diego A.A. Coordinator Newsletter

When I surrendered, you came into my life.
All this time I battled to keep you away.
Your love is too powerful and all consuming.
This meant commitments I didn't want to keep.

In your wisdom you waited for me to be humbled.
Once again, I found myself walking down that lonely street.
Misery and humiliation were familiar to see again.
Falling, I couldn't stop, and stared into death's face.
But you protected me from harm.

Scared and angry I trudged on.
Knowing full well what lay at the end of the tunnel.
Someone save me, I cried, sitting in an abandoned house.
There I sat, wondering, "Is this what life will be?"
Suicide danced in my mind gain.
This nightmare I created
When will it ever end?

Waking up the next morning,
There was some sliver of hope
To continue this downhill journey
But insanity was upon me again,
Dark thoughts became reality.
Once again I was taken to the house of pain.
"What next?" I thought.
"It's now or never!"

I opened my heart to you.
The pilot light was turned on, life had a new meaning.
How can I repay you?  Not in words but in feelings.
I know I must give back what was given to me.
Carry the message to all. "Help your fellow man
And I'll give you freedom."

~ Rick, San Diego

Dear Friends in the Fellowship

from the June 1991 San Diego AA Coordinator Newsletter

Dear Friends in the Fellowship,

I am a beginner on the road to recovery. A few months back, when I first came into an A.A. meeting, I was desolate and very desperate, convinced that I was losing my mind. I was going through withdrawals and didn’t even know it. The people at that meeting showed me understanding and acceptance, and by listening to their stories, I slowly began to understand myself. Up until that point, I had felt totally alone in a life-or-death struggle that I did not think I would survive.

I had just enough wits left to perceive that there was something here that could save me. I talked to many people and read the Big Book. The one thing of which I was entirely convinced was that I am totally helpless. I was incapable of managing my own life. The very fact that something sustained me through this intense pain and suffering was evidence enough of a higher power. I began to pray every day, not to ask for health and sanity, but only for the strength to carry out God’s will for me.

As the weeks passed, layers of poison fell from my mind and body. After all, my system was readjusting after many years of addictive drinking. I had to have many things repeated to me many times before I began to truly understand them. And I was still fighting my old thoughts. My entire world view had to be readjusted. I was like a newborn learning how to live.

It seems humorous to me now to look back at those days (sometimes only hours) when I felt “normal” and healthy gain, when my mind would try once again to revert to old patterns of thought and behavior. I only wanted a drink when I was feeling good, when I was sitting back and egotistically dreaming of all the great things that I would do, not that I was feeling fine. Those old patterns do die hard! And inevitably those periods of time would be followed by fear and panic, when my memories of the very recent past surfaced and I realized that going back means death. I take these instances as proof of what a very slow learner I am!

But also I have enough compassion for myself now to accept myself, faults and all, without the need for a drink. And for that I am very grateful. Every day that I wake up is a good day — another chance to transcend my ego and try to learn God’s will. For the first time in my life, there is room for things like growth and light and love and acceptance. This is the life that is worth living. I thank God and A.A. for it.

~ Nancy P., San Diego