P-22 - A.A. For The Older Alcoholic - Never Too Late · 5 A.A. for the Older Alcoholic This...

ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS® is a fel-lowship of men and women whoshare their experience, strengthand hope with each other that theymay solve their common problemand help others to recover fromalcoholism.

• The only requirement for mem-bership is a desire to stop drinking.There are no dues or fees for A.A.membership; we are self-supportingthrough our own contributions.

• A.A. is not allied with any sect,denomination, politics, organiza-tion or institution; does not wish toengage in any controversy; neitherendorses nor opposes any causes.

• Our primary purpose is to staysober and help other alcoholics toachieve sobriety.

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Copyright © 2001 byAlcoholics AnonymousWorld Services, Inc.475 Riverside DriveNew York, NY 10115

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A.A. for theOlder Alcoholic—Never Too Late

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A.A. for theOlder Alcoholic

This pamphlet will acquaint youwith some men and women from awide variety of backgrounds whohave had equally diverse experi-ences with alcohol. What theyhave in common is that all of themcame to grips with their alco-holism around the age of 60.

They began drinking at differentperiods in their lives. They drankfor various lengths of time. Theirbackgrounds and circumstanceswere dif ferent. One man drankalcoholically only two and a halfyears—another drank for 50years. Several drank to ease theloneliness when a spouse died, oneto ease the tensions of a high-pow-ered career. One woman, whowent directly from the cardiac careunit to detox, merely switchedfrom vodka to white wine.

These stories illustrate that alco-holism comes in many different


forms and in a variety of disguises.Whether or not you are an alcoholicis not determined by where youdrink, when you started drinking,how long you’ve been drinking,with whom you drink, what, or evenhow much. The true test is in theanswer to this question: What hasalcohol done to you? If it has affect-ed your relationships with your fam-ily, friends, former or presentemployers; if it has influenced theway you schedule your days; if ithas affected your health; if it deter-mines or affects your moods whennot drinking or your state of mind; ifyou are in any way preoccupiedwith alcohol—then the likelihood isthat you may have a problem.

Many crises accompany theprocess of growing older, andalmost all of them entail loss ofsome sort. The children grow upand leave home. You move to asmaller place. Friends are fewerand farther apart. You are obligedto retire from work. Physicalhealth is less robust and facultiesdiminish. Your partner of manyyears dies.

Sometimes these changes in cir-cumstances make a long-standinghabit worse. Whereas, earlier, adrink before dinner may have

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been a companionable pastime, itnow becomes the relief looked for-ward to all day—and the singledrink grows to two or three, andthen more.

For others, the onset of alco-holism may follow a major crisis, adevastating loss. Suddenly, the bot-tle fills up the emotional gap left bythe loss of a job or the death of aloved one.

Still others suffer a long historyof barely contained alcoholism, andsomehow or other squeak by untilthe body, after years of abuse, canno longer cope with the onslaughtof alcohol.

The turning point for the peoplewhose stories appear in this pam-phlet came when they finally decid-ed to face the problem—looked atit squarely, and became willing todo something about it. The deci-sion to ask for help was the all-important decision, and one thatnobody else could make. But onceit was made, the hand of AlcoholicsAnonymous was there, ready toreach out.

The men and women of A.A., ofall ages, have accepted their alco-holism as the disease that it is, andin doing so, have made themselvesaccessible to help, recovery, and to

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the restoration of their lives. Theway we help each other is by shar-ing our experience, strength andhope and by following a suggestedprogram of recovery.

Far from feeling that their livesare over, the men and women whohave come to A.A. in their lateryears often express the oppositesentiment— that it is time to start living.

K.B. who drank for over 50 years,and is now sober nearly eight,reports, “For me, life began twomonths before my 70th birthday.”

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J. M. (age 82)He joined A.A. at age 60

“For the first time in my long life, Irealized what alcohol had cost mein ruined hopes, in lost friendships,in loss of pride, in failed relation-ships, and in the pleasures of intel-lectual achievement.”

I was approaching my 60th birth-day when I came into AlcoholicsAnonymous. I had been an alco-holic over a period of 41 years. Istill remember, 64 years later, theburning sensation of that firstdrink of rye whiskey as it wentdown my throat. Within a matterof weeks I knew that somethingwas terribly wrong. I knew I washooked, that when I took only onedrink I could not stop drinkinguntil I was in oblivion. I’ve heardmany people say they didn’t knowalcohol was the cause of theirproblems, but I knew it almostfrom the beginning.

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In those days, there was no talkof such a thing as “alcoholism,” andI remember seeing the word forthe first time in Jack Alexander’swell-known 1941 article on A.A.published in The Saturday EveningPost. Up to then I had thought ofmyself as a hopeless drunkard,bound for an early death or theinsane asylum. At the time I was afreshman in college, and I was toleave school forever five yearslater—not even close to a degree.

By the time my draft numbercame around during World War II,I was a hardened drinker. I hadbegun to tremble and shake, and Ihad had several run-ins with thepolice and lost my driver’s license.Fear and dread had become domi-nant feelings; I was afraid to go outin the street without first beinglaced with alcohol, afraid even ofthe most ordinary human contacts.

In the basic training camps, thearmy was pressuring men whohad any college at all to go on toOfficers Candidate School, and Iwas determined not to go. I wasready to accept being a foul-up asan enlisted man, but the thought ofdoing so as an officer, bringingthat disgrace on my family, wasunnerving. And so I went through

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almost three years of combat as anenlisted man, in as much fear anddread of alcohol as I was of enemyshells and bullets. The only time Iwas free of booze in the army waswhen we were on the front line,where no drink was available.

After the war I just went berserkon alcohol. I ended up two yearslater, weighing only 98 pounds,with a liver out to the sidelines, akidney disease, inflamed stomachand intestines, badly malnour-ished—in a state of physical col-lapse. Friends found me in myapartment, lying in the doorway,unable to get up. They got me to awonderful doctor who understoodsomething about alcoholism.Knowing that I was broke andunable to afford either a hospital ora psychiatrist, she treated me overa period of months, seeing meoften and helping me talk out my troubles.

There were to be some badtimes after this, but for a while theworst was over. I was to pick up adrink a couple of years later, but bynow I had a wonderful wife and aclose and loving marriage thatwould produce two fine sons. Forsome years I tried controlled drink-ing; and you know how that ended

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up. I would lose control three orfour times a year until, seeing theanguish that it caused my wife, Igave up drink altogether. I was tobe completely dry for six years—or until her death. The fact that Igave her those six precious, happyyears is one of the joys of my life.

After her death I didn’t know thatI was in mortal peril. I knew noth-ing of the A.A. program, that it wasthe first drink that I had most tofear. I had gone to one A.A. meet-ing many years before, at the insis-tence of my doctor, but I left beforeit was over. A.A., I thought, was notfor me. And, as I later came tolearn, one drink was all it took toput me back in the power of alco-hol. I was to be out there four moreyears, years that would includehospitalizations, losing a job and,finally, a trip to a rehab. It wasthere that I began to see that A.A.could be my salvation.

The realization that A.A. was theanswer came suddenly, and Iunderstood that what A.A. peoplewere telling me was what I neededto hear. Upon release I began to goto meetings on a daily basis,offered my services to my group,first in the work of keeping thepremises clean, then in making cof-

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fee, and other service positions. Allthese activities, as my sponsorkept telling me, helped in buildingself-confidence and a feeling ofself-worth.

For the first time in my long life,I realized what alcohol had costme in ruined hopes, in lost friend-ships, in loss of pride, in failed rela-tionships, and in the pleasures ofintellectual achievement. A.A. wasto lift the fog that had envelopedme through the abuse of alcohol,restore me to the loving bosom ofmy family, and once again allowme to enjoy the beauties and won-ders of nature. All my life (dimly inthose alcoholic years) I haddreamed of being a writer, but Ihad done myself so much damagethat it was to take many years ofsobriety before I could make amodest start in this direction. At81, after 21 years of sobriety, I soldmy first essay; it would gain mefurther recognition when it waschosen to appear in an annual col-lection, Best American Essays of1999. Now, at 82, I am deep into anovel. None of these things wouldhave been remotely attainablebefore I joined A.A. And now, withwonderful years of sobriety, any-thing is possible.

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M.B. (age 70)She joined A.A. at age 61

“Every day I was determined tonever again allow alcohol to ruleme. Every day I failed.”

One day at a time, my life changedfrom mostly misery to mostly joyand comfort. How? I entered theA.A. Fellowship when I was 61years old. I was a success profes-sionally, but otherwise a mess—physically, emotionally, spiritually. Ibelieved my inability to control mydrinking was solely at fault. Littledid I know.

I was an ordinary garden-varietydrunk. In public I almost neverappeared or sounded drunk. Ialmost never staggered, fell, or gota thick tongue. I was never disor-derly, never missed a day at work,and was never hospitalized orjailed for drunkenness.

But excessive, uncontrollabledrinking caused me misery, self-loathing, and self-disgust. I’d awak-en each morning wondering whatI had said, done, eaten the nightbefore—and frequently was greet-ed by silence from my loving fami-ly. Every day I was determined tonever again allow alcohol to rule

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me. Every day I failed. Before the day was out, I repeated my performance.

I was never jailed, even thoughdriving drunk in a station wagonfilled with children was a regularevent. For years and years I livedin a jail of my own making. I didnot know that it was the first drinkthat got me drunk. Once I put alco-hol to my lips, I was driven physi-cally and emotionally to consumemore and more and more. I longedto be able to drink socially as somany of those around me werecapable of doing. Vodka was mydrink of choice, but anything withalcohol would do, even Scotch.

I traveled extensively and trem-bled each time I went through thehand luggage check-in because myknitting bag always contained mybottle of vodka. Those tiny bottlesaboard the plane were ridiculous. Iwas driven to keep my supply athand, even though the thought ofdiscovery filled me with fear.

I had an iron determination tolive my own life guided solely byself-will. I was supersensitive, shy,frightened on the inside, grandioseand defiant on the outside. I was awoman who desperately needed aprop to keep going. Alcohol was

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that prop. I didn’t see how I couldlive without it.

Twelve years ago, on a day nodif ferent from any other day, Iasked my daughter if she wouldtake me to an A.A. meeting. Nodramatic event had occurred. Justday-in, day-out self-loathing. Herpositive, mellow response alleviat-ed my anxiety, and she made no big deal about the request. Iasked her what to say, what to do,how to act. She said, “Just be yourself, Mom!”

When they asked if there wereany newcomers in the room, Iraised my hand and in a tremblingvoice said, “My name is M. I thinkI may be an alcoholic. This is myfirst meeting.” The response over-whelmed and baffled me. Applausefollowed. I was asked to keep com-ing back and was told that I wasthe most important person in theroom. Amazed, cheered, and filledwith hope, I listened and listenedand now remember almost nothingof the meeting.

I promised myself to do just whatwas suggested to me. I immediate-ly asked another “chronologicallygifted” (old, that is) woman to bemy sponsor. I discovered that asponsor was synonymous with a

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guide to finding the sober path.She suggested daily meetings, told me to read the Big Book,Alcoholics Anonymous, and most of all, said don’t drink—one day at a time.

At that group I found a homeaway from home. In a sparsely fur-nished, simple room, smiling,bright-eyed, friendly, beautiful,handsome strangers welcomed mewith open arms. I found a new, fulfilling way of life I had longedfor—the A.A. way. A huge weightwas lifted from my shoulders. Atthat very first meeting, miracle of miracles, I lost my obsession to drink!

It has been 12 years since Iwalked through the doors to myfirst A.A. meeting. While newlysober, I battled and successfullyemerged from a devastating, life-threatening illness. These years ofcontinuous sobriety have affordedme the greatest joy, serenity, andpeace of mind I have ever known.

I attribute it all to the blessings Ihave found in A.A. and to the toolsof the program: A.A. meetings,working the Twelve Steps, calls tomy sponsors, prayers and read-ings, carrying the message to oth-ers, and finding a God as I under-

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stand Him to whom I turn over mywill and my life.

Through the Fellowship ofAlcoholics Anonymous I havefound God’s true will, uncondition-al love with uncritical acceptance.Nowhere else on the face of thisear th has that ever happened to me.

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C. S. (age 83)He joined A.A. at age 68

“I’d get up at night and drink. I hadto drink to feel good, but I wasalways sick and feeling bad.”

My drinking career only lasted twoand a half years, but it almost killedme. As you get older, alcoholworks harder on you. It takes a tollon your body. I didn’t really startdrinking until I was 66, but I quick-ly became a blackout drinker. Atthe end, I attempted suicide.

I come from a family that is veryreligious. There were no alcoholicsin the family. None of them drank,and I drank very little when mywife and I were busy raising ourthree sons. I worked 31 years assupervisor of maintenance at alarge corporation.

When I retired, the boys were alleducated, married, and out of thehouse. The wife and I did a lot oftraveling then—trips to Hawaii,the Caribbean, Mexico. She was indelicate health, though, and on onetrip she suddenly got sick. A weeklater she died of heart trouble.

Now I was all alone. I went to seefriends, but they were always busy. Iwent to my kids’ houses, but they

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had things to do. So I just stayedhome. It was like the house was justcoming in on me. I was going nuts.

I’m a diabetic, and one day Iwoke up trembling real bad. I don’tknow why I thought about it, but Igot me a big cup of coffee. I filledhalf the cup with coffee, and therest with bourbon. By the time Ifinished drinking that cup of cof-fee, the trembling was gone. I feltgood. I thought, “Heck, there’s nobetter medicine than this.” Soevery time I was trembling, I’d geta cup of coffee and some whiskey.It came to a point where I’d makemyself tremble just to drink.

Lent came, and I quit drinking.On Easter Sunday, I don’t knowwhy I did it, I put a bottle ofwhiskey in the car. After church, Ipicked up that bottle and took a bigdrink. From there on, I was drink-ing night and day. I’d get up atnight and drink. I had to drink tofeel good, but I was always sickand feeling bad. I was so darnedsick one night I didn’t want to liveanymore. I wanted to kill myself.

I went out and got a pistol. I put aplastic drop cloth on the bed,because I didn’t want to get it full ofblood, and I lay down on the bed. Iwas feeling bad. Without warning,

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I went into a diabetic coma. One ofmy boys found me and called theparamedics. They took me to thehospital. I was in intensive care forfive days. After 27 days, the doctortold me, “I’m going to dischargeyou, but first I want to see you inmy office.” He was pretty blunt.“Do you see what alcohol is doingto you?” he asked. “You’d better goto A.A.”

He discharged me on a Saturday,and on Monday I went over to anA.A. meeting near my house.“Who’s the boss?” I asked a man asthe noon meeting started. “I wantto see the boss.”

The man gave me a funny look,and then looked around the room.He said, “You sit down. The bossisn’t here yet.” So I sat down, butthe boss didn’t come in.

“You come tomorrow,” the mansaid after the meeting. “The bosswill be here tomorrow.” I cameback, but the boss still didn’t showup. I’ve been going there for 15 years, and the boss hasn’tshown up yet.

At first, I didn’t really think I wasan alcoholic. But I rememberedwhat the doctor told me: “If youstart drinking, you’ll be lucky if

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you live a month and a half.” So Ikept going to meetings. It’s a darngood program. It’s a beautiful life.

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F. M. (age 79)She joined A.A. at age 72

“My best friend became 80 proofalcohol.”

I was born in the beautiful moun-tains of western North Carolina,and lived there most of my life. Imarried a childhood friend at age16, had my first son at age 17 andanother son ten years later. Our lifewas fairly uncomplicated for anumber of years, and only on spe-cial occasions included alcohol.

Then my husband was diag-nosed with multiple sclerosis, andour world came tumbling down onus. At that time, he was an accoun-tant at a local hospital, and I hadalways been a stay-at-home mom.He began to put great pressure onme to take some courses so I couldfind a job, which I did. I took typ-ing, shor thand, and businessEnglish, and when I completed thecourse, I landed the first job Iapplied for, at 43 years of age. Itwas a wholesale hardware andfloor covering company locatedvery close to our home.

The job was much more compli-cated than my courses had pre-pared me for, but I was able to

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hang in until I learned it. But whenmy job was secure, that was thebeginning of my story of alco-holism.

My husband began to drink dailywhen he would come home fromwork. I would pour his drinks, andsometimes, if I got them too full tocarry to him, I would drink some.In no time, I was fixing anotherdrink for me. This went on for sev-eral years without a big problem,but during that time my husbandwas retired on disability at 55.Three years later, he died.

Now I was alone. My childrenhad finished college by then, andwere working away from home, somy best friend became 80 proofalcohol. I worked every day, butwhen I got home, I drank. I beganto have blackouts. I would talk onthe phone to my kids and friends,and could not remember the nextday what I had said. This went onfor a few years, and one night Idrove home from my best friend’shouse and could not rememberanything. I decided I must have aproblem, so I called A.A., and alady picked me up and took me to a meeting that same night. I was62 years old.

I attended meetings and made

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coffee, chaired meetings, servedas secretary, went to rehab onSaturday and helped with meet-ings there, and stayed sober twoyears. But all the while, I keptthinking that someday I could dosome “controlled” drinking.

Shortly after completing thosetwo years of sobriety, I went on acruise to the Bahamas. I just hadto have one of the “umbrella”drinks, and I started to drink again.

I was married again to a man Ihad known for years. He had losthis wife to cancer, and called me,and after a year we married. I toldhim of my problem with alcohol,but since he didn’t drink, he didn’thave a clue what it was about. Hewas very indulgent, and alwayssaw that I had something to drinkat night before our meal. He was adear enabler, but he worried aboutmy drinking. He died of a heartattack, but just before he died hesaid to me that if he died first, Iwould likely drink myself to death.For three years after his death, Ialmost did.

Something happened to me onenight, and no matter how much Idrank, I could not feel it. Some-thing told me to call an old friendin A.A. Two friends came quickly

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and talked with me, and I promisedI would go back to a meeting, oreven go to rehab if necessary. Ikept my promise and went back—shaking, fearful, full of shame andremorse. All I remember of thatfirst meeting is, “Try it one day at atime.” I was willing and ready, butwasn’t sure about “able.”

I started that day, at age 72, with-out drinking, and have just finishedseven years of the greatest life Ihave ever known. I have foundpeace and serenity in this wonder-ful program of A.A., and a HigherPower who is doing for me what Icould not do for myself.

I saw a bumper sticker recentlythat said, “If you are on the wrongroad, God allows U-turns!” A.A. hasbeen my U-turn.

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D.O. (age 67)He joined A.A. at age 66

“… my preoccupation with workwas replaced by a preoccupationwith alcohol.”

My alcoholism got a late start.However, with diligent ef fort, Imade up for lost time and foundmyself entering A.A. at age 66. Butthat gets ahead of my story.

I was born to a first generationIrish Catholic couple in New YorkCity. My father was a lawyer andmy mother a traditional homemak-er. Although I had an uncle whowas an alcoholic, my parents weresocial drinkers. Alcohol was alwayseasily accessible in my homethroughout my elementary andhigh school days. However, I wasnever tempted to try it.

Alcohol was an active ingredi-ent in weekend life at my IvyLeague college. Although I readi-ly drank, it was rarely to excessand never a problem. Alcohol wassimilarly part of life in my post-college days and as an officer inan Air Force fighter squadron.But again, it had no special appealto me despite heavy use by mycomrades.

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An Ivy League law school fol-lowed the Air Force. But by then, Iwas married with two children andseveral part-time jobs, one as a bar tender. I was really quiteabstemious in those days—prompted more by economics anda busy schedule than by desire.

Upon law school graduation, Imoved my family—by then threechildren—west to join a presti-gious city law firm. After five years,I was invited to become a partnerin the firm. To celebrate thisaccomplishment with my wife, Ibought my first bottle of whiskey—at the ripe age of 32.

The years at the firm were happyyears and financially very reward-ing. But they were marked by 50-to60-hour work weeks and inade-quate time with my wife and family,which now included four children.I eventually became managingpartner of the firm, which hadgrown from 15 lawyers when Ijoined it to over 200 lawyers and asupport staff of 250. That originalbottle of whiskey similarly flour-ished; and while it originally pro-vided one drink before dinner, over30 years it grew to two or threeplus a nightcap. Still I felt no craving and experienced no alco-

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hol-related problems, at least none of which I was conscious.

I completed ten years as manag-ing partner at age 62 and returnedto being “just another partner.”During those ten years, I haddevoted nearly all of my time tomanagement—which I trulyenjoyed—and had given much ofmy client responsibility to youngerpartners. This left me with insuffi-cient legal work at a time when thefirm culture was emphasizing“billed hours” and giving lessrecognition to managementresponsibilities.

I quickly felt a loss of prestigebecause I was no longer managingpartner, and a sense of inadequacyand estrangement because I wasnot generating enough billedhours. Concurrently, I encoun-tered problems at home because ofmy long inattention to family andmy drinking. These problems wereprobably there all along, but I wastoo busy to notice them. My threedrinks before dinner plus a night-cap had grown to include a drink atlunch, a drink on the way home,and sometimes a morning drink.By now, the craving had arrived,and my preoccupation with workwas replaced by a preoccupation

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with alcohol. Fortunately, my fourchildren were grown, happily mar-ried and well into their owncareers, and largely unaffected bymy drinking.

While my alcoholism blos-somed, my wife was diagnosedwith cancer and underwent twomajor surgeries and two years ofchemotherapy and radiation treat-ment. As her health declined andmy feelings of inadequacyincreased, I felt I had to makesome changes, so I voluntarilyretired from the law firm after 39years. This solved nothing! Mywife’s health continued to deterio-rate and my drinking acceleratedto meet the increased cravings.Fortunately, I managed to avoidthe more typical consequences ofdrinking, such as automobile acci-dents, D.U.I.s, etc. I’d like tobelieve I was careful in my drink-ing, but I really think I had a veryzealous and talented guardianangel.

My wife of 44 years died, and mylife was a shambles. I voluntarilyentered a treatment center twomonths later, and started going toA.A. meetings on my discharge,but within 30 days I was drinkingagain—even more so. Again, I

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avoided the typical consequencesof drinking. Then a friend invitedme to his home to watch a footballgame. There I encountered sevenlong-time, dear friends and three ofmy children. This was a masterful-ly executed intervention: by eleveno’clock that night, I went to bed900 miles from home—at a treat-ment center in the mid-west.

Upon returning home, I entereda six-month outpatient aftercareprogram and resumed going toA.A. meetings—only this time Ipaid attention. Except for oneshort-lived relapse—itself a power-ful lesson—I have remained sober.I have a sponsor and I continue toattend A.A. meetings three or fourtimes a week. I regularly speak topatients in local treatment pro-grams about the need for, and ben-efits of, the A.A. program.

It’s never too late to enjoy sobri-ety. Gone are the cravings and thepreoccupation with the “nextdrink.” I feel and look a lot better.My step is lighter, my mind isclearer. The depression and thegloom are gone. I feel much moreat peace with myself and—moreimportantly—with others. I nolonger feel the need to please oth-ers to prove myself. Yet I get much

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satisfaction from helping others,especially when done anonymous-ly. I know I helped and that’s allthat really matters.

At most A.A. meetings and atnearly all treatment center meet-ings, I am among the older, if notthe oldest, participant. I have man-aged to accumulate a modestamount of wisdom over the yearsand it has quite often proven useful.It’s never too late to enjoy sobriety.

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C.H. (age 60)She joined A.A. at age 59

“I had passed the point of drinkingto feel good; I was drinking to live.”

The surgeon looked down at melying on the hospital bed and said,“I have repaired your heart andyou will be fine, but if you take a drink, you will undo all that I have done.” I heard his words,but they had little meaningbecause I had already given up onlife. I was so weak, and I wonderedif I had the strength to commit sui-cide by using my bed restraintsand the IV stands next to the bed.But I knew I didn’t have the ener-gy; in fact, I didn’t even have the energy to protest the doctor’splan to send me from the cardiacunit to the detox unit in the same hospital.

The room in the detox unitlooked similar, but I felt real panicwhen I realized I was locked in. Ijust lay in bed and let the days passwhile my surgery healed. I couldhear voices in the hall and knewthat other patients were having vis-itors and going to A.A. meetings,so I finally agreed to go. I wasshaking, twitching, and unable to

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concentrate, but I kept going to the meetings, tr ying to find some answers.

When I was released from thehospital, I returned to the homethat had been the scene of mysolitary drinking for many years.As I looked around my home, Irealized what a prison it hadbecome for me. At the time of mydivorce years earlier, I had takena job with the administrativebranch of the county and, in mymind, I was a “big deal,” withmajor responsibilities and muchprestige. Even then I had somemajor health problems, includingasthma, ar thritis, and stomachailments, but I was determined tokeep my position so I took moreand more medication. I nevertold my doctors the truth aboutmy drinking, so I didn’t knowwhat a deadly combination ofalcohol and drugs I was takingover the years.

My son had always been mygreat joy, but as my drinking pro-gressed, I lost the ability to com-municate with him and deprivedhim of the love he deserved. Myrelationship with my mother hadbecome strained, causing me guiltbecause I couldn’t be the kind of

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dependable daughter she needed.My only sister had joined A.A. andlived across the state. She hadonce arranged an intervention,which was a disaster and made mefurious, and as a result, we hadbecome estranged.

So I was alone in my beautifulhome with alcohol as my only com-panion. I kept my job for 17 years,but the last few years were torture.I lost interest in my appearance,and because of my swollen feet, Icould only wear big ugly boots towork. My great concern was thatno one be able to smell alcohol onmy breath, so I brushed my teethoften and had an endless supply ofbreath mints.

I took pride in not drinking dur-ing the work day, but the moment Igot home—even before taking offmy coat—I would pour a tumblerof vodka and drink it standing upin the kitchen. Finally the strainwas too much. Several attacks oftachycardia at work ended in myreceiving a long-term medical dis-ability leave from the county.

Now I was home full time, withno responsibilities, no reason to getout of bed, and no reason not todrink whenever I wanted. Iswitched from vodka to white wine,


which I had delivered by the case.I no longer drove, I rarely wentout, I seldom talked on the phone,I never read—I just lived in fear.

I had passed the point of drink-ing to feel good; I was drinking tolive. I welcomed nightfall becausethen I could legitimately close upthe house, lock all the doors andwindows, and drink before gettingready for bed. (Actually, I was usu-ally ready for bed because I rarelygot out of my robe and slippers.)My paranoia was so great that Iwould check and recheck thelocks on the doors and windowsthroughout the night.

It is no wonder that my declinewas rapid and that in less than fivemonths after leaving work, I hadundergone major surgery, beenthrough detox, and was now readyto attend A.A. meetings.

My sister came to visit and tookme to meetings every night. Thisis the same sister who had triedthe disastrous intervention tenyears earlier, but now I was readyto hear everything she had to say!She showed me the local meetingschedule, and I was stunned torealize that there were over 200meetings a week. She introducedme to local women in the program,

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and they took over the responsibili-ty of getting me to meetingsbecause I couldn’t drive.

I was afraid to go to A.A. meet-ings, but I felt I had no choice. Iwas still shaky and found it hard tounderstand everything that wasbeing said, but that didn’t matter. Iwas welcomed with such lovingarms. I had always felt left out, andnow suddenly I had all kinds ofpeople caring about me. I literallyfelt a new life beginning. I tried todo everything I was told: went tomeetings every day, read the litera-ture, got a sponsor, worked theSteps, and became grateful to bealive and sober.

I had been dreading my 60thbirthday, but when that day arrivedand I realized I was sober and cele-brating with people who caredabout me, I felt healthier, stronger,and more optimistic than I had in years.

With alcohol, my life had becomenarrow and bleak; with sobriety,the world has opened up for me. Iam taking watercolor classes, havebought new clothes for the firsttime in years, my home groupthinks I may be ready for a serviceposition, and my son has sent mean airline ticket to visit him!

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As one good A.A. friend says,just like “The Wizard of Oz,” mylife has gone from black and whiteto glorious technicolor—and I oweit all to A.A.!

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K. B. (age 77)He joined A.A. at age 69

“For almost 50 years … alcoholcontrolled my life.”

I am an only child, born in the mid-dle of the Great Depression, to par-ents who lived and breathed reli-gion and controlled every aspect ofmy life, and I hated it. I was con-vinced that I was different fromother people, a feeling that wouldstay with me until well into my firstyear of sobriety.

I had my first drink about myjunior year in high school, andalthough I did get drunk a fewtimes and loved it, poverty savedme at that time. I went on to com-plete two years of college beforebeing drafted into the military,where I served the next five and ahalf years, eventually flying B-25sin the Pacific Theater. Alcohol wasbeginning to play a large role inmy life.

For almost 50 years after I leftthe military, alcohol controlled mylife. I was married three times, hav-ing two daughters by my first mar-riage and two by my second. I married my third wife because sheapproved of my drinking, never

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criticized me, and always took careof me when I was drunk. That was30 years ago, and from the time Imet her in a bar she never saw mesober, a condition she definitely didnot like. She told me she preferredme drunk.

Throughout those years I heldmany jobs, and several times wasin business for myself, most ofwhich ended because of alcohol-related incidents or prolonged peri-ods of drunkenness. There werelost homes, financial problems,wrecked automobiles, neglectedchildren, times in jail, and muchmore, but never did I suspect thatalcohol was my problem.

One morning I woke around 5:00a.m. I remember going to the barwhere I had an 8-ounce cup ofvodka with a straw in it that I hadpoured the night before. This hadbecome a nightly ritual, because ithad been many weeks since I hadbeen able to fill the cup in themorning and get it to my mouthwithout spilling it.

My wife of 22 years would begetting up soon to go to work, andI wanted to get over the horribleshakes that had greeted me everymorning for several weeks ormonths (I am not really sure—it

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could have been years). I knewthat once I had enough alcohol theshakes would go away and lifewould be okay for a few hours. Ihad no idea of what was in storefor me for the rest of that day.Somewhere around 2:00 in theafternoon I had drunk about twofifths of vodka. I was alone, scared,and blaming everyone and every-thing for all the problems in mylife, but for some unknown reasonI was not drunk. It suddenlyoccurred to me that I could notsolve these problems alone, andthat for the first time in my life Ihad to tell another human beingthat I needed help.

I knew ver y little aboutAlcoholics Anonymous. I had trieda few weeks earlier to go to a cou-ple of A.A. meetings but believedthat I was different from all thosepeople and that A.A. was not thesolution to my problems. I wasdetermined to start cutting backon my drinking, but realized thatnot only could I not cut back, Iseemed to be drinking more. Iremembered someone at an A.A.meeting talking about goingthrough a treatment facility, andsuddenly I felt that was probablywhat I needed.

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For unknown reasons I pickedup a telephone directory and saw alocal hospital advertising help forchemical dependency, and afterwhat seemed an eternity I dialedthe number and told someone thatI could not stop drinking and need-ed help. They asked a few ques-tions and told me to come in imme-diately. When my wife came homefrom work I told her that I had togo to the hospital, and she agreedto take me even though she saidshe didn’t think I was that bad.

My memory of events for a fewdays after this are hazy. The timespent in a wheelchair—being fedby someone else because I couldnot lift food to my mouth withoutdropping it—being pushed acrossa street to a church to attend an A.A. meeting—the nights with-out sleep as I lay in bed with mybody shaking.

After 20 days in a treatment facili-ty I was released into a strange newworld that I did not understand. Igot a sponsor, went to many A.A.meetings, but could not convincemyself I was an alcoholic untilChristmas Day and seven monthsof sobriety. My oldest daughter,who had been in A.A. 12 years atthat time, traveled 700 miles to go

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to a meeting with me that day. Sheshared her own story and howproud she was of her dad now thathe was sober. Then she said thatshe and her sister never knew whattime their father would come homeat night, what condition he wouldbe in, or if he would come home atall. She said they were afraid to getin a car and ride with him.

I sat there with tears in my eyesand admitted to myself that I wasan alcoholic and that my life hadalways been unmanageable. I hadjust worked Step One and realizedat that moment that my life insobriety was just beginning. I haveser ved as secretar y of manygroups, spent three years in gener-al service work, sponsored severalpeople, and have loved everyminute of it. Yes—I still make cof-fee and help set up meetings.

As of this writing, I have sevenand a half years of sobriety, havecelebrated my 77th birthday, havea successful business, a host offriends, four adoring daughters,and a great social life. For me, lifebegan two months before my 70thbirthday.

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J.H. (age 75)She joined A.A. at 61

“Rarely was I truly happy—rarelytruly anything! A sham!”

I just celebrated 14 years of sobri-ety! Hard to believe; there was atime when I couldn’t go a day with-out alcohol. When I came into A.A.I was 61 years old and I did notthink about what I’d be doing in 14years. I was sure the better part ofmy life was over. I never couldhave believed how great my lifewould become!

My life took an immediate turnfor the better when I woke up onemorning and said, “I need help.”These words were in response tomy husband’s question, “Did youhave a good time last night?” Wehad had dinner out with friendsand, once more, I had my usualvodka before we even left thehouse, several more with dinner,and ended up in another argumentwith my husband. Once more Iwent to bed angry, awoke in themiddle of the night wishing I coulddie and telling myself: I can’t go onlike this. I don’t want to do this any-more. How many times had Iprayed “to have the desire to drink

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removed — help me to not wantalcohol tomorrow.” Yet eachtomorrow brought another losingbattle with my former friend, nowturned into my enemy. I just could-n’t stay away from it.

When I admitted I needed help Inever dreamed how much help Iwould receive. We fairly flew to thehospital. I answered “Yes” to allthe questions except the one thatasked “Did you drink in the morn-ing?” I found it quite hard to face adrink in the morning! They asked“Did you go to luncheons or havelunch with friends?” Well yes, Idid. “Did you have wine or abloody Mary?” Well, yes I did.“Then you did drink in the morn-ing!” I was an alcoholic in need ofhelp. I, who got up every day andwent for a three mile walk! I’dbeen convinced that if I could dothat I couldn’t be alcoholic.

I knew I did not want to go on liv-ing a life with alcohol in charge,taking me where I did not wish togo. Rarely was I truly happy—rarely truly anything! A sham!

My husband and I had grown upduring the Depression, havingbeen born in the twenties. We mar-ried in 1943, in the midst of WorldWar II. All our partying was done

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on weekends. It was eat, drink, andbe merry (for tomorrow we mightnot be able to). I looked forward tothose weekends. Alcohol was verymuch a part of our good times. Itloosened me up for dancing, fortalking, made me a party girl. Yes,the early years of marriage werefull of fun, with the exception ofour times apart.

As an Air Force wife I was deter-mined not to be dependent (wiveswere referred to as “dependents”).I tried to be self-sufficient. Andwhenever I was required to dosomething difficult I tried to proveI could do it — on my own if neces-sary. My first trip overseas was in1953, my first time on an airplane,with four children ages 2, 4, 6 and8. It was not easy to get us to NewYork, and then to Germany.

In Germany I learned how goodwine could be. I enjoyed the vari-ous wines—a lot! These were stillbeautiful days. But too much winecan spoil those beautiful days and Iremember spoiling a few.

Our Air Force career lasted 32years, ending at the Pentagon withback-to-back assignments and afew trips to Europe. I tried desper-ately to be careful and not drinktoo much. But I was not always

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successful. I spoiled some verybeautiful times. We were so luckyto have been given such assign-ments—and to have had a contin-ually successful career—at least Ido not think that my drinkingstood in the way of my husband’spromotions. I tried hard to be agood Air Force wife.

When I entered the rehab I wasable to look at myself for the firsttime as a person—not just some-body’s wife, mother or daughter. Ibegan to find out who I was andwhat was inside that made me whoI am. I also learned that I did nothave to pour alcohol into myselfevery day.

Free at last! I am grateful to myHigher Power and to A.A. that I amno longer a slave to alcohol. I am afree woman with a brand new life. Ilook forward each day to an A.A.meeting; I used to look forward tothat first drink! Thankfully, I don’thave to do that anymore.

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How do I find A.A.?

Almost anywhere in the UnitedStates or Canada, you will find anA.A. telephone number in the localphone book. If you decide to call,you will be put in touch with anoth-er alcoholic. And your call will beprivate—you don’t even have togive your name. Just ask where theA.A. meetings are.

Wherever an A.A. group meets, ithas one purpose: to help alcoholicsstay sober. A.A. groups meet in allkinds of places. Some meetings areheld in schools or churches; someA.A. groups meet in hospitals oreven of fice buildings. But it’simportant to keep in mind that anA.A. group is not connected withthe church, school or governmentoffice where it happens to meet.

There are several kinds of A.A.meetings: Open meetings are open to any-

one, alcoholic or not, who is inter-ested in A.A. At open meetings youwill hear stories such as the onesin this pamphlet.Closed meetings are limited to

those who have a drinking prob-lem themselves (or think they mayhave). Here, we are free to speakup and ask questions. Here we get

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practical suggestions on how tostay sober.At beginners meetings, we discov-

er that we are on the same levelwith anyone who is new to A.A.Even if there’s a business execu-tive or a grandmother next to us,we’re all star ting from scratchtogether, tackling the basics of A.A.

If there is no A.A. group nearbyor for those who are physicallyunable to attend meetings, help isstill available. You may write toBox 459, Grand Central Station,New York, NY 10163. That is themailing address of the A.A.General Service Office. The A.A.members who work there willshare their experience with you.And, they will be glad to offer sug-gestions for getting an A.A. groupstarted.

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THE TWELVE STEPSOF ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS

1.We admitted we were power-less over alcohol—that our liveshad become unmanageable.

2. Came to believe that a Powergreater than ourselves couldrestore us to sanity.

3.Made a decision to turn ourwill and our lives over to the care ofGod as we understood Him.

4.Made a searching and fearlessmoral inventory of ourselves.

5. Admitted to God, to ourselves,and to another human being theexact nature of our wrongs.

6.Were entirely ready to haveGod remove all these defects ofcharacter.

7. Humbly asked Him to removeour short comings.

8.Made a list of all persons wehad harmed, and became willing tomake amends to them all.

9.Made direct amends to suchpeople wherever possible, exceptwhen to do so would injure themor others.

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10.Continued to take personalinventory and when we werewrong promptly admitted it.

11.Sought through prayer andmeditation to improve our con-scious contact with God, as weunderstood Him, praying only forknowledge of His will for us andthe power to carry that out.

12.Having had a spiritual awaken-ing as the result of these steps, wetried to carry this message to alco-holics, and to practice these princi-ples in all our affairs.

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THE TWELVE TRADITIONSOF ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS

1. Our common welfare shouldcome first; personal recoverydepends upon A.A. unity.

2. For our group purpose there isbut one ultimate authority—a lov-ing God as He may expressHimself in our group conscience. Our leaders are but trusted ser-vants; they do not govern.

3. The only requirement for A.A.membership is a desire to stopdrinking.

4. Each group should beautonomous except in mattersaf fecting other groups or A.A. as a whole.

5. Each group has but one prima-ry purpose—to carry its messageto the alcoholic who still suffers.

6. An A.A. group ought neverendorse, finance, or lend the A.A. name to any related facility or outside enterprise, lest problems of money, property, andprestige divert us from our pri-mary purpose.

7. Every A.A. group ought to beself-supporting, declining outsidecontributions.52


8. Alcoholics Anonymous shouldremain forever non-professional,but our ser vice centers mayemploy special workers.

9. A.A., as such, ought neverbe organized; but we may createser vice boards or committeesdirectly responsible to those theyserve.

10. Alcoholics Anonymous hasno opinion on outside issues;hence the A.A. name ought neverbe drawn into public controversy.

11. Our public relations policy isbased on attraction rather thanpromotion; we need always main-tain personal anonymity at thelevel of press, radio, and films.

12. Anonymity is the spiritualfoundation of all our traditions,ever reminding us to place princi-ples before personalities.

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A.A. PUBLICATIONS Complete order forms available fromGeneral Service Office of ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS,Box 459, Grand Central Station, New York, NY 10163

BOOKS ___________________________________________________________________

ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS (regular, portable, large-print and abridged pocket edi-tions)

ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS COMES OF AGETWELVE STEPS AND TWELVE TRADITIONS

(regular, soft-cover, large-print, pocket and gift editions) EXPERIENCE, STRENGTH AND HOPEAS BILL SEES IT (regular & soft cover editions)DR. BOB AND THE GOOD OLDTIMERS“PASS IT ON”DAILY REFLECTIONS

BOOKLETS ___________________________________________________________________

CAME TO BELIEVELIVING SOBERA.A. IN PRISON: INMATE TO INMATE

PAMPHLETS ___________________________________________________________________

FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS ABOUT A.A.A.A. TRADITION—HOW IT DEVELOPEDMEMBERS OF THE CLERGY ASK ABOUT A.A.THREE TALKS TO MEDICAL SOCIETIES BY BILL W.ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS AS A RESOURCE FORTHE HEALTH CARE PROFESSIONAL

A.A. IN YOUR COMMUNITYIS A.A. FOR YOU?IS A.A. FOR ME?THIS IS A.A.IS THERE AN ALCOHOLIC IN THE WORKPLACE?MANY PATHS TO SPIRITUALITYDO YOU THINK YOU'RE DIFFERENT?A.A. FOR THE BLACK AND AFRICAN AMERICAN ALCOHOLICQUESTIONS AND ANSWERS ON SPONSORSHIPA.A. FOR THE WOMANA.A. FOR THE NATIVE NORTH AMERICANA.A. AND THE GAY/LESBIAN ALCOHOLICA.A. FOR THE OLDER ALCOHOLIC—NEVER TOO LATETHE JACK ALEXANDER ARTICLEYOUNG PEOPLE AND A.A.A.A. AND THE ARMED SERVICESTHE A.A. MEMBER—MEDICATIONS AND OTHER DRUGSIS THERE AN ALCOHOLIC IN YOUR LIFE?INSIDE A.A.THE A.A. GROUPG.S.R.MEMO TO AN INMATETHE TWELVE CONCEPTS ILLUSTRATEDTHE TWELVE TRADITIONS ILLUSTRATEDLET'S BE FRIENDLY WITH OUR FRIENDSHOW A.A. MEMBERS COOPERATEA.A. IN CORRECTIONAL FACILITIESA MESSAGE TO CORRECTIONS PROFESSIONALSA.A. IN TREATMENT SETTINGSBRIDGING THE GAPIF YOU ARE A PROFESSIONALA.A. MEMBERSHIP SURVEYA MEMBER'S-EYE VIEW OF ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUSPROBLEMS OTHER THAN ALCOHOLUNDERSTANDING ANONYMITYTHE CO-FOUNDERS OF ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUSSPEAKING AT NON-A.A. MEETINGSA BRIEF GUIDE TO A.A.A NEWCOMER ASKSWHAT HAPPENED TO JOE; IT HAPPENED TO ALICE

(Two full-color, comic-book style pamphlets)TOO YOUNG? (A cartoon pamphlet for teenagers)IT SURE BEATS SITTING IN A CELL

(An Illustrated pamphlet for inmates)

VIDEOS ___________________________________________________________

A.A.—AN INSIDE VIEWA.A. VIDEOS FOR YOUNG PEOPLEHOPE: ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUSA NEW FREEDOMCARRYING THE MESSAGE BEHIND THESE WALLSYOUR A.A. GENERAL SERVICE OFFICE,THE GRAPEVINE AND THE GENERAL SERVICE STRUCTURE

PERIODICALS __________________________________________________________

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