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

The Secret Heart

from The San Diego AA Coordinator, February 2008 ~

It had just begun to rain and I thought to myself that it was fitting weather for a memorial service. The rhythm of the windshield wipers sounded almost stoic as I drove. It was an autumn day and it was raining. The clouds seemed to be wringing out the essence of the winter to come. I was going to say goodbye to a friend, not being too sure he would have wanted all the fuss made over him in the first place.

I pulled into car into the Alano Club parking lot and was surprised to see plenty of parking spaces. Arnie, though not a cornerstone of A.A., still from my way of thinking deserved to be sent to the hereafter with the respect an elder statesman in A.A. warrants. I made it into the club without getting too soaked. The door slammed shut behind me, which was usually an embarrassment because everyone would shush you. Today was different. I looked to see eleven or twelve people, most of them old, sitting at one table towards the front of the room. Knowing the majority of the folks, I made my rounds and found a seat in the corner where I usually sat when I came to the club for meetings.

My attention was drawn to several flower arrangements at the front of the room. One in particular was so beautiful I wanted to look at it up close. There was a note that said, “With love from Dave, Cindy, Dave Jr., and little Arnie.” The names did not mean anything to me, but I thought they sure must have been special to have sent such a beautiful flower arrangement. Next to that there was a two-foot by four-foot bulletin board with various pictures of Arnie. Looking at one of the picturesin particular, taken in his later years.

I remembered the first time I met Arnie. I was newly sober and had fumbled my way into a Tuesday night discussion meeting. The only seat available was in the back right next to this vintage bearded guy with a Grateful Dead tee-shirt and Ugg boots. Having made a decision to do whatever I had to do to stay sober, I sank into my chair. Avoiding eye contact with anyone in the room I managed to not have to share or even make small talk. That was the longest hour and fifteen minutes I had ever had to endure. The most frightening part of the night came, the closing prayer, and holding hands. This Jerry-Garcia-burn-out next to me who hadn’t said a word or given me the satisfaction of acknowledging my presence, stuck out his hand. My sweaty, clammy, shaky melted into his.

For some strange reason I felt a sudden calm or peacefulness when Arnie and I held hands. Finally the prayer was over. I wanted to race out of the room, but this old dude wouldn’t let go of my hand. He looked at me and in this scratchy voice said, “My name’s Arnie. You’re gonna be all right kid. Keep coming back.” Arnie and I became friends from that night on. In Arnie’s later years, after they took his drivers license, he let me pick him up and drive to a book study we both attended. I’ve never forgotten Arnie’s prediction when I was scared and new; his reassuring words meant a lot to me.

The service was your average run-of-the mill memorial with remembrances and goodbyes. At the end of the ceremony one of Arnie’s oldest friends asked me if I would help sort out Arnie’s affairs at his house. I was a busy guy. I had things to do and places to go. I said, “sure.”

Three days later, the rain had stopped but the clouds were still fringing the skyline. An occasional ray of sunshine would pop through to remind you what the weather could be like. Pulling up to Arnie’s, house, I thought of the many times l had helped Arnie down the steps and into my car to go to a meeting. It gave me a lump in my throat.

Friendship is kind of a funny thing: I guess I just expected Arnie would always be there on Wednesday nights. I got of my car and went up the steps. The door opened and Arnie’s two closest people in the world, a friend and his oldest spon- see greeted me and invited me in. Arnie’s house was a modest two bedroom semi-clean bachelor pad. The pictures on the walls were either of lions or Bristle Cone pines. Arnie had told me of his fascination with the Bristle Cone pine trees in the White Mountains or the Eastern Sierra Nevada Mountains of central California. These special trees are the oldest living things on earth. I had been in Arnie’s house before: this was all familiar territory. We boxed the entire contents of Arnie’s life into a collection of twenty-three produce boxes. Somehow that didn’t seem to be worthy measure of a man.

One or the last things we organized was this ancient looking footlocker. The outside was scarred and looked like it had made some extensive travels. There were tattered and faded stickers from all over the world: this case caught my attention. Not wanting to intrude on my late friend’s personal space, I asked what to do with the locker.

Bobby, Arnie’s oldest friend said, “It’s all gotta go!” The brass latch opened with a little difficulty. There, delicately preserved, was a well-worn scrapbook. It was a family album of sorts. Feeling I had perhaps over-stepped the boundaries into Arnie’s privacy, l removed the tattered chronicle with reluctance. Turning the cover l was surprised to see a picture of Arnie with two other guys in Canadian Air Force uniforms. The three were standing in front of a World War II bomber. I had never heard Arnie talk about being in the war. Bob said that Arnie had been a tail gunner in the Royal Canadian Air Force.

On the next page was the date April 27, 1962. Asking Bob about the date, I found out that it was Arnie’s sobriety date. Expecting to find family pictures and memorabilia, I turned the pages only to find journals of people Arnie had known or had helped in A.A. The amazing thing was the details. There were first meeting dates, sobriety dates, accomplishments, and where necessary, final dates. As I looked through the detailed chronicles it became very clear how much love this retired statesman possessed for those in the program. All his “babies” were carefully organized in the book with stand-out information, good and bad. There were news clippings when one of his own had risen to the top. There was also notations if one of them had fallen out of grace with society.

One interesting page recorded Arnie’s caring relationship with a man named Dave whom he had helped through the steps in 1965. Dave’s progress was meticulously chronicled with words and photographs. There was a picture of Arnie and Dave and a woman, apparently Dave’s wife on their wedding day. Next there were baby pictures, little league, and high school graduation pictures for two fine looking boys. There were two college graduation announcements and pictures of each one of the boys with Arnie beside them in their commencement robes. There was a letter that had been re-opened so many times the creases were almost worn through. The letter said:

“Dearest Grandpa Arnie,
We just brought our new baby home from the hospital. Since we all moved from San Diego to Chicago, all I can do is send you a photo of young Arnie. While we were waiting in the delivery room, Dad told me how all that has happened was due to you stopping Dad from taking his life back in sixty-five. We knew that you were our adopted grandpa, but we never knew how significant your stepping in to help Dad has been to our whole family. Your love for my dad and our family has sustained us and I just wish I could be there to thank you. As always, all our love, Dave Jr.”

I had to go get a tissue for the tears I had left on the note. Trying to regain my composure, I tearfully set the now priceless photo album back in the footlocker with the rest of the things to be taken away.

What is a measure of a man? What are the riches that sustain us for eternity? The life of every man is a chronicle to his legacy.

“Any good that I can do, or any kindness that I can show to any fellow creature, let me do it now. Let me not defer nor neglect, for I shall not pass this way again.” (Anonymous)

Chuck S.

New Beginnings

from The San Diego AA Coordinator, January 2007

When I thought of the topic of “new beginnings,” and as we start a new year, I was reminded of my drinking days. In the past I could not wait until New Years Eve. First of all it was a good excuse to get obliterated drunk, not as if I needed an excuse any other day. Another reason I loved to start a new year was because I inevitably had much wreckage to clean up from the year before. Thad a laundry list of incomprehensible, demoralizing events that I regretted and preferred to forget. Somehow starting a new year seemed to set the stage for better beginnings. Until I quit drinking, however, those fresh, new beginnings never seemed to take root.

Since I quite drinking, however, I have had many fresh, new beginnings. The first was just waking up without a hangover and knowing what I had done the night before. When I was drinking I either dragged myself to work hung over or slept the day away. Enjoying the simple things like having a quiet morning and sipping my coffee as the world gets started has become one of my most cherished times. I was 27 when I got sober and I thought that was the end of all my fun and the end of my new beginnings and that I would become the proverbial hole in the donut. Over the years, I am happy to report that there have been many new beginnings.

One thing that has stayed the same is that I have always gone to meetings, worked the steps, had a sponsor and have been of service in AA. But as we all know that docs not mean that our lives become stagnant. Almost everything else seems to have changed. I believe that energy in our lives is always moving; how gracefully we move with it or resist it is our choice.

I would be remiss if I did not mention that some new heginnings can be painful and challenging. To lose my best friend alcohol was not fun. I had to learn about this scary thing called emotions and realize that they would not gobble me up, and that I would not die if I felt them. Feeling them, acknowledging them, and moving on seems to work much better when I do it. Then, when I was six months sober I had another painful loss when my mother died. She was the only parent I knew, so a new beginning, feeling as if I were an orphan, was terrifying at times. I was lucky to have a solid home group who literally carried me through that painful time. As a result, I fell in love with Alcoholics Anonymous, and I will be forever grateful. I also had a new beginning when I moved away from the city where I got sober with five years of sobriety. It was a positive, happy change and truly a Higher Power thing.

Although I struggled with the different meetings, it really was an exciting new beginning. I walked through my fears to experience new things. Since then I have made San Diego my home and Alcoholics Anonymous is an important part of that.

A lot of my other changes have been subtle changes of the educational variety. My relationship with my Higher Power is always changing and has transformed from a far away concept to a personal relationship that I know I can rely upon. It is a Higher Power that I can do business with, and I do not have to take on anyone else’s belief system, limitations or rules.

Changes and new beginnings in relationships have been another area of growth over the years. We all have our own path in this area, and I always try to remember that my lessons may not be your lessons and vice versa. Some of us have had less than stellar childhoods that were also riddled with alcoholism and drug addiction. For me personally, I have had to let go of unhealthy relationships and realize that I deserve better ones in my life with people who love and support me. It took many years for that lesson to travel from my head to my heart. No matter what your problems are with relationships, whether platonic or romantic, one thing I do know is that diligently working the 12 steps of Alcoholics Anonymous with a sponsor will help improve them. I have also sought outside help in this area, which has been immensely helpful.

Some new beginnings I have experienced have been good. Some have been painful, but even with the bumps in the road, my life has improved beyond belief from my drinking days. Even when life on life’s terms knocks me over, I have the tools to get through it. For the most part today my problems are luxury problems and problems of abundance.

Today when I begin a New Year, I am still excited. But now it is a much calmer excitement. It is no longer fueled by regretting the past. And now I know that if I stay sober one day at a time, l am more likely to have my new beginnings take root. Happy New Year and best wishes for many happy new beginnings.

Anonymous

Pandemic Paradox

from the San Diego AA Coordinator, June 2020

As alcoholics (I am assuming that this newsletter does not have a large normie following), we are the victims of a progressive and ultimately fatal illness for which medical science has yet to find a cure. The agent involved in this disorder is a simple molecule made up of carbon, oxygen, and hydrogen atoms which, in the hands of the alcoholic, is a killer.

However, there is way to achieve remission in this disorder and that is through the program of Alcoholics Anonymous, which teaches us that there is a spiritual solution achieved through the Twelve Steps. Other parts of the solution involve gathering in groups with others who share our disease and reaching out our hands, both physically and metaphorically, to others who are similarly afflicted, but are unaware of the existence of the solution we have found.

Currently the world is in the grip of another illness which is also progressive and can be fatal to many. In a few short months COVID-19 has spread to 212 countries, aflicting more than 4,000,000 individuals, and kiling nearly 300,000 as of this writing.

While this coronavirus virus particle is larger than yhe ethanol molecule, it is still quite small, visible only by the electron microscope. It is unable to “live” on its own but must attach itself to a host cell to reproduce. Unlike alcoholism, it might be possible to acquire this disease from a toilet seat, particularly if the practicing alcoholic were to spend time, as we say, “worshiping the porcelain fixture.”

Like alcoholism, medical science has yet to find a cure for this illness, and alas, there does not appear to be a spiritual solution…yet.

How do we avoid falling victim to COVID-19? We must do exactly the opposite as what we are taught regarding alcoholism! We cannot gather in groups and certainly not reach out and take the hand of a newcomer, as we must maintain a six-foot separation from them. We cannot even offer a friendly smile as we must always remain masked.

It appears that we are powerless over the virus. Our only hope is to recoil from it as we would from a hot flame! It is most probable however that those of us who follow the few simple suggestions offered to us by our COVID sponsors (the medical experts) will survive the current danger and be able to continue to practice the principles of Alcoholics Anonymous in all our affairs.

A little patience and tolerance can go a long way. Down with COVID! Long live A.A.! Thank God for Zoom!

Blaine H.

A Sense of Belonging

from the San Diego AA Coordinator, May 2020

It was with Step five when I felt that I became a real member of this fellowship. For the first time in a long time I had a true sense of belonging, I had earned my right to be here.

Until this Step I had taken a lot of unhealthy risks in my like and now it was time to take the biggest risk of all: acknowledging that I too had a lot of shortcomings and character defects, and then telling and confiding them with someone I could trust. I already felt horrible about myself and did not want to learn more or share it with anyone else.

Growing up in an alcoholic home, I was often too embarrassed to belong to anything. I would always project into the future that day my parents would show up, if they chose to show up at all, and embarrass me by being drunk; and of course, this happened often.

Because I accepted, I could not depend on my parents, I learned to be fiercely independent to care of all my needs, emotionally, physically, spiritually. I did not need people, authority figures or parents, and friends, I could take them or leave them. It is not that I really did not want those things because are the things I wanted most. It was just that I could not depend on them so I would never allow myself to trust them completely, to be there when I needed them to be, and this included God.

At first, drinking alcohol was magical. I immediately lost the coldness and cynicism of my personality and warmed up to people. People liked me, my parents liked me, and I then in turn could like myself. I felt cool for the first time and not an uptight goody-two shoes nerd. I did not know I would eventually hate myself even more for my alcoholism. In the end, I had already started to do all those things I hated in the alcoholics I had grown up with.

I spent my early 20s trying to control and enjoy my drinking and most of all fitting in. I was in college now, confused and crazy, trying to control my drinking by joining or not joining fraternities or other campus groups. I was now trying to control my alcoholism by living a neurotic life around not drinking and getting other people around me to not drink so I would not have to either. I did not see this as a desperate self-centered act and in fact often thought I was virtuous.
And though I knew I should not drink I was not completely convinced I was an alcoholic because I never crashed a car, got arrested, had a DUI, etc., or committed other heinous acts that some members have used to qualify for this program.

Well, at the age of 23, I walked into A.A. and have been here ever since; I will be 40 this August. In those years I have learned to suit up and show up, and not worry too much about results. I learned to get through college, including earning a master’s degree, without drinking and being part of the “in crowd.” I have fun belonging to this fellowship and all my closest friends are members of the program (I have non-program friends too!) It was with this group that I learned to share the exact nature of my wrongs, as well as with a few good sponsors. It was here that I began to learn the value of humility, growing up, and accepting that I could not be an island; that there were people on this earth I could depend on, have to depend on, and do. I continue to learn the I am not the Director and God is always in charge.

Today my life is not perfect though I am blessed far beyond my dreams. Today I have a loving God, a beautiful wife who is a great friend, many other sober friends, and a Labrador named Louie. I still have a lot of anxiety about “fitting in” especially at work where I still seem to make a mess for even trying. I still struggle between being too independent and being too desperate to “fit-in” with the crowd of the day; whoever and wherever they are. But I have not had a drink in over 16 years. Today, I have a fellowship of friends I can share my experience, strength and hope and love with, as well as my shortcomings and fears.

Steve P

Showing Up

from the San Diego AA Coordinator, February, 2020

What does it mean to you to take on an AA commitment? Do you always say yes to AA requests and always suit up and show up? When I do, here is what happens.

My husband and I were asked if one off us would be the speaker at the annual Pancake breakfast, celebrating 79 years of AA in San Diego. The event was a few months away and I replied that we would.  

This involves a couple extra factors, first my husband is undergoing chemotherapy and he does not always have the strength, energy or “health” to get out and about. Second, as often as possible we head off to our place in Yuma that has become our getaway retreat.

But making an AA commitment we take seriously, and make every attempt we can to meet the obligation. So, the date was penned on our calendars.  It was decided that David would do the speaking. He is the real speaker of the family and enjoys his moments in the spotlight.  Besides, the other speaker was female.  Not much more thought was given to the event.

Just a couple days before the event, it became evident that my husband would not be able to attend, let alone speak.   I was disappointed because I knew it meant he didn’t feel well, and, because he wasn’t “prepared” and ready to speak, I’d be doing it without him there to cheer me on. I have spoken a few times, but he’s always been there, my “friendly face” in the crowd. One exceptions was a few months ago I was asked to speak at South Bay Pioneers.  It was the  first time I went on a speaking engagement without him by my side. The chemo had him down.

Even though I rode down with friends and had friends there. It was difficult and different but I did it once, so I knew I could do it again. My car had recently been acting up, so I asked for a ride. Thank goodness I’d learned how to pick up that 500-pound phone early on and it weighs almost nothing these days. I was not going to add the stress of wondering if I’d have a mechanical issue trying to get there. A ride, in fact two, was generously offered.

Initially I was a little reluctant, not really interested in going and a bit sad because of why I was the one speaking “alone” – my husband’s health. But once again, suit up and show up, give and you will get. What a fabulous morning it turned out to be. I got to see a lot of friends I hadn’t seen for some time, because of our traveling and the usual changes in meetings attended. That brought great joy to reconnect and a great reminder of how many people I do know and can call on if needed. I got a lot of compliments and who doesn’t enjoy receiving those. And I was told my talk was a success; which may only mean that I started and stopped on time! I did hear the occasional laughter and it was at the right spots. Really though, I did get some personal comments so I know I was able to share experience that could be related to.

What really topped the breakfast off was someone came up to me and asked if I recognized him, I didn’t, but as soon as he said his name, joy and happiness filled me. It was someone that was in our drinking group that came into the program a few years after my husband and I. He had taken the 12 steps with my husband. Life moved on and we lost track. What a joy, he has maintained long term sobriety. If I hadn’t been speaking, we would have been in the same room but missed connecting.

The ride home with another friend was appreciated and I enjoyed our one on one time. Those special talks to and from meetings. I was happy, joyous and free and that does not begin to describe how filled I was. No room for any fear of the future, no room for any worry of my current situation. No hunger, because I had pancakes eggs and sausage! And all this because I never say no to an AA commitment. Once again, I was given an abundance of joy just because I suited up and showed up.

Postscript: 2 weeks after I wrote this my husband, David, passed from his long ordeal with pancreatic cancer. The blessing is that David was able to have a brief visit with that long-lost friend.

Marilyn A.

“Hook on, Chica”

from the San Diego AA Coordinator, January, 2020

Hi, my name is Kristine and I am an alcoholic. My journey in AA has been a series of lessons. Lessons of growth, through hardships and triumphs. My sponsor always used to tell me that in order to continue to learn and grow in recovery I would need to challenge myself to learn new things. So, several years ago I picked up cycling as a hobby. I began by riding every weekend, always learning more about this sport called cycling. After a few years I saw an advertisement about an organized race that would take place nearby. I took this as a challenge. I knew I wanted to participate in this race!

So I signed up for this race that, ironically, would take place on my sobriety anniversary. It felt like a “sign” that I should accomplish this 100k ride on the anniversary of my 24th year of being sober. So I set to training. I used basic skills I had learned in AA to ask for help and to be teachable. I signed up for classes and workshops on the “art” of cycling. I learned how to signal my fellow riders if I was slowing down, and how to alert my fellow riders about obstacles on the course. I learned a lot in each class and workshop. Then, finally, the day of the big race came.

AA had taught me to stand in my truth and be proud but, as I stood there with 2000 other riders, waiting for the race to begin, I felt alone and somewhat intimidated by all the fancy bikes and gear of the other riders. My bike didn’t look as good, my gear wasn’t as fancy, and I was riding alone. As I heard the signal for the race to start: I stepped on my bike pedal with my brand new sneakers and I was off! Five miles into the race I felt good: people were very nice as they passed me. After 15 miles I was starting to feel a little tired but, I had trained for this and I knew I would be okay. I thought about my sobriety and how lucky I was to be able to ride with all these amazing people. Thirty miles into the race I began to feel more tired but, I had known this would be a challenge – right? Resting briefly at 45 miles I was feeling exhausted. Forty five miles of sun, wind, and hills pushing against my body. I wondered if I really was going to make it.

As I began pedaling again I remembered my sponsor telling me to draw strength from my higher power. So I prayed for that strength as I continued pedaling. During my months of training I had heard of a riding strategy called “drafting”. NASCAR drivers sometimes use it but, I had never tried it. As I approached a hill I began chanting to myself “anything hard is worth it”. I just wanted to make it to the finish but, that was still over 15 miles away. I was taking a deep breath and asking for God’s help when a group of cyclists approached me on the left. They all seemed so at ease! As if the sun, wind, and hills were not at all difficult! As the last rider began to pass me she motioned to me. I saw her shining blond hair and a big smile on her face as she said “hook on chica”. Just then it finally came to me! This is it! I get it! As I slid in behind her I felt the ease of her “draft” carrying me! I continued on the trail of this train of cyclists and felt my tensions ease and my heart get lighter. When I saw the finish line approaching tears began to stream down my face and I realized this race was like my journey in recovery.

I came into AA believing that for anything to be “worth it” it had to be hard. But the men and women of AA wrapped their arms around me saying “hook on chica”. We don’t have to do recovery alone! Recovery doesn’t have to be painful and difficult. We can join those who have gone before us and “hook on”.

~ Kristine