Alcoholic In Recovery

Self-pity

I recall a speaker in my early days saying he thought of recovery as being like going up a razor back ridge without falling off into complacency on one side or self-pity on the other.  I suppose the path up the ridge could be called honesty,  and that was in short supply back then.  I thought at first that it wouldn't be a problem as I didn't lie,  cheat or steal,  but I was pretty dis-honest with and about myself,  keeping the wool firmly over my eyes.  From early childhood,  my mother told me to just be myself,  but that didn't help much because I didn't really know who or what I was.  My head would tell me,  without much evidence,  that I was somehow better than other people.  but,  in my gut,  I felt worthless.  Perhaps the gap between the
two was part of why I felt so uncomfortable with myself.

I recall that one sign I saw in some of my early meetings was,  "Poor me! Poor me! Pour me a drink!"  To have to stop drinking at the tender age of 28 seemed like about the worst thing that could happen to anyone back then.But after a few years in recovery trying to work the Steps made sobriety seem pretty good,  preferable to anything I'd found in drinking most of the time.  One day a mental image of me sitting on a street corner with a tin cup and a sign around my neck saying,  "CAN'T DRINK SOCALLY",  came to mind. I realised that I would collect much and the my early self-pity was pretty silly.

I used to think it was rather strange when someone would say they were glad they were alcoholic.  What we have is,  among other things,  a mental illness, and  I have never heard anyone say they were glad they were paranoid,  schizo or bi-polar.  But now I am glad I have this disease as I couldn't have found AA,  God or the sort of life I have today otherwise.  If someone was able to completely cure it,  even to the point of letting me opt to be a social drinking with the dubious blessing  of being able to stop when I start feeling good,  I would pass on the cure.  I love the life I have today and feel like I'm living in paradise.  I really enjoy all the things I do to stay sane and sober and find what remains of the disease in me kind of amusing.  I think life would be duller without it.  As another member here says,  "If you can learn to laugh at  yourself,  you have a lifetime of entertainment."  Or,  as someone else said at a meeting I went to this week,  getting sober is like winning the lottery and staying sober is like winning a second time,  certainly no cause for self-pity.