In early recovery, the first month anyway, I thought the first line of “How It Works” read, “Rarely have we seen a person thoroughly follow our path.” I was dubious about staying stopped from the drinking thing. Then came the reading, “At some of these, we balked.” Not following baseball that closely, I didn’t know the word’s meaning. Did people walk around like chickens saying, “balk, balk, balk?” It didn’t make sense, but I wouldn’t ask. You are probably getting the idea that I wanted to do it my way.  In those early days, the deck felt stacked against me. Only by the Grace of God did I stay sober and not hurt myself. I did everything the way I thought it should be, and my way did get me in a lot of jackpots that were not necessary, or maybe they were.

In those early years, I got involved with the running of a sober club, married for a Wapping 52 days to a woman 20 years younger and one who didn’t even like men. I believed I could cure her.

At seven years sober, I started a self-help bookstore named, “Journey to Serenity.” The store name described my journey, which lasted three years before bankruptcy. Once again, several friends suggested that I may need more time to be ready for such an undertaking. I would listen to some old-timers calling what I was practicing “Slowbriety.” One day, a much older woman told me I would go backward if I went any slower. Little did I know how right she was.

At ten years sober and still practicing “my” program in place of “the” program, I put a gun to my head. I didn’t want to die, but I wanted the torment going on in my mind to stop. It was then that I read for the first-time page 92 in the step book, “Finally, we begin to see that all people, including ourselves, are to some extent emotionally ill as well as frequently wrong, and then we approach true tolerance and see what real love for our fellows means. It will become more and more evident as we go forward that it is pointless to become angry or to get hurt by people who, like us, are suffering from the pains of growing up.” I called the next day to the person I was calling my temporary sponsor and admitted what I planned the night before. He agreed that my troubles were deep and that a professional could help me.

In desperation, I went out the back door of the sober club, crossed the street, and entered a counseling center. Sitting at the front desk was an attractive young lady. She asked, “Can I help you?” The words came out of my mouth, “I need help.” She instructed me into an office off the entryway. We sat, and she asked, “Why do you think you need therapy?” I commenced to unload my fifth step with her, although I hadn’t done a fourth step yet. I went on and on with my life history for fifteen minutes. She listened intensively and then interrupted, “Okay, enough; I will schedule you to see a therapist.” I was shaken and replied, “Aren’t you my therapist?” I will never forget what she said. “No, I am the receptionist, and my only duty is to ask you one question. We will be in touch.”

Terrified of what I had revealed to a stranger, I went back to the sober club and told them what had happened. They all had a good laugh at me. After working with a good addiction therapist for over a year, I began to feel the dark veil lifting. I went on for another four years with four other therapists. I would first move to a new location, find where the meetings were, and then find a good counselor.

The road I traveled early on is undoubtedly the less traveled path, but I especially remain sober. I attribute it to a power greater than I and surrendering to the idea that I can never drink again if I wanted the wonderful life I had found. Thank you, AA, and that great power behind it all.