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When I got to AA, to try to stop drinking long enough to sort out some problems with my job, it was pretty hard to be grateful. In fact I felt sorry for myself because I seemed to suffer more from self-pity than anyone else in AA. To be stricken with drinking problems at the tender age of 28, when about everyone else in AA drank far longer, to try to keep a teaching job that scared the hell out of me anyway, seemed a cruel blow and a terrible handicap.
When I had been sober a while longer, I began to see that living sober could be better than drinking, at least some of the time, and that it was possible to be both sober and happy. At first, the word 'sober' seemed about the same as 'somber' to me. It also occurred to me that seeing this as a terrible handicap was a bit ridiculous, that, if I tried sitting on a corner with a sign hanging around my neck that said CAN"T DRINK SOCIALLY, I would have few coins tossed into my tin cup. But still, it bugged me it someone got up at a meeting and say that they were glad they were alcoholic. How could anyone be happy about having a mental illness? I can understand it now, as being alcoholic has led me to AA, serenity and belief in God. Going through life without the drama of being an alkie and spending vacations looking at old buildings instead of going to meetings would seem a bit dull now. To drink now would be about as silly as choosing to drive on the wrong side of the road, and becoming a social drinker has no appeal at all, quitting when I start feeling good. I have found a reality I like living in, that is far nicer than what I tried to excape from even before having my first drink. I enjoy living and no longer fear the alternative. In spite of hearing people at meetings saying "attitude of gratitude" to the point of nausea, I still thought gratitude was a feeling that I should have, but didn't. I now see that I can choose to be grateful. In almost any situation, I can find something to be grateful about. I now have the kind of quality problems that I might have dreamed of having when I was still drinking. In a lot of my early meetings someone would say, "All sunshine makes a desert." Instead of cursing the rain and taking it personally evertime it catches me out, I can be grateful for being in a place with plenty of water, food and greener. Failing that, at least it isn't snow or hail. A few years ago, a guy came to a meeting here who had been sober for about 30 years, like me at the time. He had drifted away from meetings and picked up a drink on an overseas trip and was drinking pretty heavily, having about lost any real desire or hope of stopping drinking again. Trying to think of something positive to say to him during one of the smoke breaks we had at the time, I recalled the promise about not regretting the past or wishing to shut the door on it, and suggested that this would be the case if he could get back to AA and regain his sobriety, as another recovery after being sober so long would be an valuable experience that few have had. He disappeared after those couple meetings. I have often heard at meetings that, "A head full of AA and a belly full of booze is a terrible combination." and suspect that this would also be true of a head full of AA and the tangle of emotions that such a person would have. There is a Japanese saying that, "A wise man climbs Mt. Fuji once." Recovery may not be much fun at time but it can be a wonderful adventure when done the first time, but could be pretty daunting after tumbling down. When I look back at my life, I have few regrets. About the only one that has entered my head in recent years is that I let shyness and fear keep me from really trying to find a marriage partner, and I have felt that I might have missed out on something as a result. I may have been looking for too much, like the guy who went through life looking for the perfect woman. When he finally found her, she was married to the perfect man and wouldn't have anything to do with him. After one meeting many years ago, I found myself telling someone that I thought I'd like to get married but wouldn't want to live with anyone. I have always been a loner and long sobriety hasn't done much to change that. I feel a bit like the guy in some of the cowboy movies I saw in my youth who gives the girl a peck on the cheek after saving her from something but then says he's, "Just not the marrying kind." before riding off into the sunset. However, I have found pretty continual happiness and contentment in recent years and doubt if I could have found any more if I had found a partner in life. Aside from that, I have very few regrets as I look back on my 35 years in sobriety. There have been times when I made what seemed to be mistakes at the time, and they may have put me in what seemed like a bad situation for a while. But from there I found myself getting to somewhere I could never gotten if I hadn't made that seeming mistake. Occasionally an old embarassment comes to mind, but more as a source of humor than regret. One of the sayings I now quite like is, "If you can learn to laugh at yourself, you have a lifetime of entertainment." When I was a couple years sober and trying to get another fellowship started in Melboune, someone there asked if I had a problem with sarcasm, probably as a tactful way of telling me that I did. I later learned that, "Tact in the art of telling someone to go to hell in such a way that they look forward to the trip." Anyway, I had to admit that I didn't even know what sarcasm was, and was told that it was humor at the expense of others. Without even thinking about it, I asked, "Is there any other kind?" I have since learned that I can find quite enough to laugh at in myself and that works a lot better than trying to tear down others. |