I’m grateful for the usual Saturday nonsense. I’m grateful for leaving things behind and letting go. I’m grateful to see how wrong I got some things. I’m grateful for the way things work out. I’m grateful for a day that will definitely include basketball. I’m grateful to be sober today.
Confession Number One: I’m not really sure what time it is. I know there are mostly two possibilities, but I knew in advance that the outcome of the end of Daylight Savings Time would be that I would wake up in the dark and it would somehow be earlier than usual.
Confession Number Two: In the absence of something witty or meaningful to say, I’m going to urge you to listen/read to “Spies Like Us”:
There is no Confession Number Three, well, at least not yet. I am going to focus this week on Bill W’s amazing story. I think the first time I was directed to read the Big Book, I thought Bill’s story was kind of schmaltzy and self-aggrandizing and really didn’t get much out of it. Then my Sponsor (technically “Your Sponsor”) assigned me to write my story in the style that Bill wrote his. One of my pet peeves is going to meetings and listening to someone qualify for 15 or 20 minutes about their exploits and crazy life while drinking and then talk hurriedly about how they got sober for just the last few minutes.1 When you read Bill’s story, that’s not how he tells it.
Bill’s story is not one of drunken antics, it’s about turning points and realizations. When Bill talks about his drinking, it’s never tinged with triumph, always sadness. When you read Bill’s story you can feel his descent, nearly all the way to the bottom.
No words can tell of the loneliness and despair I found in that bitter morass of self-pity. Quicksand stretched around me in all directions. I had met my match. I had been overwhelmed. Alcohol was my master. Trembling, I stepped from the hospital a broken man.
Big Book, p. 8
And then this sentence, the one that I think most accurately describes the absolute madness of alcoholism and the terrible strength of it’s grip:
Fear sobered me for a bit.
That really sums it up. Bill had been told the end was coming and he knew it, too. That wasn’t enough to help him stop drinking. Spoiler alert: It turns out to not be about stopping drinking.
When I wrote my story in the style that Bill wrote his, I saw the same kinds of thinking patterns, the same realizations, the same history of intractable relapses and, ultimately, the same kind of salvation. I finally saw that I was on the same path as Bill, and a lot of other alcoholics, and that if I kept walking with them, well, maybe I’d get to the same place they got.
I’m working on another version of my story, in the style of Bill’s, and hope to share that with you soon. One of my sponsees has been working on the same project and I think I have him persuaded to share his story, too. I am very excited about this. If you are interested in doing this, writing your story like Bill wrote his, and want to share it, well, I would love to make that happen.
Thanks for Letting Me Share
It feels very much like the stories you hear after someone would say, “And then this one time at Band Camp…”
I really enjoy reading your articles. Especially what you’re grateful for.
Thank you for this great read - a good way to start my week.
I know what you mean about not knowing what time it is! Over here in UK we changed our clocks the week before you did... and on Friday, before the US clocks changed but after ours had, I missed (by precisely an hour!) a Zoom writing session hosted on the US east coast! For those 7 days our typical five-hour time difference had reduced to four..... Next time I'll know to check! 🤣