No One Can Get Your Goat Unless You Tell Them Where It’s Tied Up.”

In the Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, published by Alcoholics Anonymous, on page 123, it states, “These distinguished men had the nerve to say that most of the alcoholics under investigation were still childish, emotionally sensitive, and grandiose.” Also, in the same book, on page 92, it states so wonderfully, “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.”

At times, well, most of the time, those words only apply to newcomers and not those of us who have double-digit sobriety and even several decades attending meetings. When I’m honest and open-minded about my feelings, I fall into that category of being childish, emotionally sensitive, and even grandiose on occasion, although I rarely would admit it. 

As I grew in early sobriety, another member, who was only trying to help, said that I was arrogant. My thoughts were not pure the moment I heard those words. After the remark, I turned and walked away to pout. When the pouting stopped, I asked an elderly female member, who I trusted her opinion, if I was arrogant. Her remarks were so profound and right on the money that I still use her advice today. She said, “If people didn’t know you for being the gentle, caring person you are, they could perceive arrogance in how you speak.” She asked me to think about it for a few days. While stepping back, I found she was right. From that day to this, I try to think before opening my mouth. Am I perfect every time? No, but I’m much better now than I was before.

Even today, with 31 years of sobriety, working in many areas of service, and sponsoring other men, I can still revert to my old ways in any given situation. One came up recently at a meeting. The first person spoke of how someone called him late at night to tell him what they thought of him. He was distraught for several days, even to the point of getting physical. My mind jumped into program mode. I raised my hand, and someone jumped in before the chairperson could call on me. When they finished, I raised my hand again, and someone else started speaking again. This time, I knew the chairperson had seen my hand. Again, my hand went up, and again, another jumped in. By this time, I was starting to feel a bit less of a person and how what I had to say didn’t matter. I started the pouting process and didn’t put my hand up when that person finished. Finally, the chairperson recognized that I had wanted to speak from the beginning and asked what I thought. 

I said what I had to the individual who started the conversation by recognizing our sensitivity. I shared my feelings about not being called upon, and everyone laughed because they all had experienced it at one time or another. I guess those feelings don’t go away, and you know, I am grateful for those feelings as they were missing for most of my life. I recognize when the insecurities arise and see them for what they are, just feelings, and I have a say in what I feel today.

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Why Does Another Addiction Pop-Up After I Work on the One in Front of Me?

This question was raised at meetings many times during early recovery. It seemed I always had some character defect to work on or another program to attend. My addictions are similar to the Whack-A-Mole game in the arcade. With a big mallet, I smash down one mole, but up pops another. It goes on and on endlessly. There is no winning, only wacking. It’s a never-ending process.

After searching for years, I’ve found there’s a reason why one addiction can replace another. There’s a simple physiological answer and it’s how my body functions. Everyone’s body is a chemical factory. The brain has four feel-good hormones: Dopamine, serotonin, endorphins, and oxytocin. I can boost the level of these hormones with a simple lifestyle change, like diet, exercise, meditation, or an addiction. When I obsess about anything outside my mind, the body creates one of these feel-good chemicals in my brain.

During early alcohol recovery, I purchased a VCR; remember those? After watching a good movie, I went to a meeting and told someone how great the movie was. They suggested I tape the movie and let others watch it. I quickly purchased a second VCR, connected the two, and started a movie library. I would rent three to five movies a night and set the alarm clock so I could wake up and change the tape.  I didn’t have time to watch most of the films. Within a few months, there were over 3000 movies . I also purchased a computer and printer to share my library with fellow meeting members. An old timer told me how I was “switching seats on the Titanic,” but this addiction wasn’t going to kill me. Once I realized how I was only doing the movie taping to feel good I turned the collection over to the Sober Club so they could manage the lending library.

Another addiction that raised those feel-good chemicals arose when a girl would show interest in me. I could think of nothing else, even putting her first name ahead of my last name to see how it sounded. I went down the dopamine road for many years until I realized how once I changed one part of my personality, another would pop up to take its place. A famous addictions expert in the nineties made a statement that summed up my experience. He said, “I have two problems. Problem A is my alcoholism, while problem B is the rest of the stuff. If I don’t take care for problem B, problem A will take care of it for me.” Now that made sense. Replacing one addiction for another wasn’t the answer. For me, after an attempt to take my life, I was told by my AA sponsor that I should seek professional help to deal with childhood issues, self-hatred and low self-esteem. AA was the answer to my alcohol problem, but it was not the right fit for the other issues. Bill Wilson in the Big Book stated how alcohol is only a symptom of my underlying problems. The book also states how there are excellent clergy, therapists, financial experts, and many other experts who specialize in individual character flaws, which, if not dealt with, may cause me to seek out my primary addiction, which never worked.

It was then that I became obsessed with healing my inner child. I worked hard for six years in one-on-one therapy, attended many different twelve-step programs, and even opened a Self-Help Book Store for three years. That was another distraction, but this time, I was aware and didn’t get the highs I once had from such things.

Here I am some thirty-seven years later, and most of my demands have been recognized and laid to rest. I know they all sleep lightly today and will raise their ugly heads if I start down the wrong road. At this point, having a good friend or sponsor helps keep me on the right track. I still seek things to make me feel good, but awareness is my first go-to tool. Once aware, I have a chance to make corrections before the distraction becomes an addiction.

After writing this essay, I went to the morning meeting feeling better about my shortcomings. A covered container of little finger sandwiches was on the food table—all my favorites. I turned away, remembering how I had lost ten pounds in the past two months by resisting the temptation. It was seven-thirty in the morning. Then, the craving for a food high took over. Seven sandwiches later, the plate was empty, and I had my fill along with being full of regret, but it was too late. The overeater mole was back. It is time to put more awareness, and especially more effort into that one. What will come next?

You see, this addict will always have a mole to wack, but by constantly reviewing my state of mind and having the willingness not to react there is a chance. At this point, it is all up to me. Do I want to change or continue to wack away?

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It’s Possible to Stay Sober, No Matter What?

At age twelve, my young world came crashing down around me when my father died in a car accident. I wish I could say he was sober, but he wasn’t. Between the alcohol from a bar and drugs from an accident, he was slumped over the steering wheel when he hit a trailer truck head-on. That event started my emotional downslide into an emotional abyss.

Insecurity and self-loathing were all I knew at the time. A month later, still repressing the feelings of grief, I swallowed my first drink. It tasted terrible going down and tried to come back up, but I forced it to stay where it was. The second gulp was even better and the third better yet. Then the buzz came and quelled all my feelings. I remember thinking how great it was, and I now understood why my parents drank so much. I didn’t get sloppy drunk the first time, but I do remember wanting that feeling again. I chased it all through my teens.

After barely graduating from High School, everyone was enlisting in the Air Force as the alternative was the Army and a paid vacation in the jungles of Vietnam. I was delighted to discover the military didn’t care if I drank as long as I did my job and did not get into serious trouble. I worked on the flight line as a jet fighter crew chief. Being overly responsible at such a young age, the Air Force seemed like a career I wanted to pursue, but alcohol would have something to say about that. By the end of my fourth year, drinking every day, re-enlistment was out of the question. During the re-enlistment interview, the Captain informed me the Air Force didn’t have any use for someone who drank as I did. By then I just wanted to be free to drink the way I wanted.

While adjusting to civilian life, I realized my drinking was out of control. I made a conscious effort to slow down. During that time I was living at home with my alcoholic mother. My sister’s best friend was in a similar living situation, so we stuck to each other like Velcro. Within a few months, we were married, had an apartment, two cars, and a baby on the way.

I continued drinking beer for the next thirteen years before she informed me how the marriage had died from lack of attention on my part. I was spending so much emotional energy controlling my feelings that there was none left for the relationship. She served divorce papers on my birthday. I knew she was right and I didn’t drink for the next seven months until the divorce was final and I had to move out.

Thinking I wasn’t an alcoholic, I accepted employment in Ireland for a year’s contract. After seven months sober, I started back on the beer right away at the airport. The Guinness became a new lifestyle and hanging in the pubs singing Irish songs worked fine for the next year.

After returning to the States, Vodka replaced the beer. In a short time, the hard liquor greased the slide to my bottom. After a DUI I still wasn’t getting it. My last drunk, the one I never want to forget, landed me in jail charged with assault with a deadly weapon and a three-year sentence hanging over my head.

I slithered into my first AA meeting out of desperation and fear along with my attorney’s strong suggestion. She said my only chance of not being put away was to be sober and to attend meetings regularly when we went to court. When the day came, I clung to my two-month chip. The judge was in a forgiving mood that day. I got a suspended sentence and was told that if I were involved in any issues with the law, I would go to jail.

I attended meetings every day for the first five years. No sponsor, due to fear, no steps, and fear again, but I was sober. I did it my way for ten years until the mental pain became too great. I asked for help, followed directions, and started the healing process.

It’s been three decades since early sobriety and life at times hasn’t been fair, at least according to my way of thinking. I married at three years which only lasted 52 days, and I didn’t drink. I opened a self-help bookstore and when that failed I didn’t drink. Many close friends have passed, and I didn’t drink. I finally grieved my father’s death when I was 20 years sober. I’ve healed from hating the person in the mirror to being able to tell myself how much I love who I am right now.

Today I follow the necessary suggestions I need to stay sober. Helping others is one of the biggies. Being of service is what the AA program is all about. I’m involved in sober club life and active in sponsorship, publish a monthly newsletter for the sober community, and above all, I don’t drink, no matter what.

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Who Creates My Reality?

If a tree falls in the woods and there’s no one around, does it make a sound? Science would say yes, but if no human is present to verify what science is claiming, then maybe there isn’t a sound. The entire universe is only present when my mind is focusing on it. Therefore, is there a universe that dwells outside of my mind? Of course, there are buildings, people, the sky, flowers, and on and on. My reality is the thought created in my mind. Therefore, everything I think is real is only an illusion in my mind. When I sleep and dream, what I experience seems very real. In fact, sometimes, when I wake, I wonder if the dream is where my life is and what I call my awakened life is the dream.

Another example is when I am in physical or emotional pain. No one else can feel it but me. They can imagine what I’m feeling but can’t feel it themselves.

What if I could change the way I feel or look at something? Would the experience change as well? Wayne Dyer, who wrote and lectured on PBS for years, once said, “When I change the way I look at things, the things I look at change.” Is it possible to change the way I look at something? My answer is a resounding YES; the sooner I figure it out, the sooner I’ll reach enlightenment.

The next step in changing how I look at things is to get my mind off the thing I am obsessing on or causing my misery. I do this with prayer. I only need to place my focus on God for a few minutes. One way is by saying “Our Father” slowly, focusing on each of its parts. Only then can I slowly open the door to what is bothering me? I can start by asking myself, “What lesson is there for me to learn as I go through this?” There is always a lesson. Maybe in my prayer, I will ask to have the lesson shown. The pain slowly moves to the back burner when I focus on learning the lesson. I move my thoughts from negative to positive, which is the answer. The Course in Miracles says, “Life is a series of lessons. We do not get to choose the lesson, but we do get to choose how we react to it.” These are beautiful words to live by and follow if I want my life to be happy, joyful, and free.

This concept may be bizarre at first. Our minds or egos want to be in charge and not let our spiritual or authentic self into the driver’s seat. You will need to push out the Ego and replace it with you. It sounds easy but hard to do. All you need to do is recognize who is driving your bus. Once you, as the real self, see the Ego for what it is, it will step aside. The Ego likes operating in the dark, and it will dissolve once the light shines on it. The only way to get your life back under your control is to practice concepts like I just explained. Good luck, and remember, luck is what WE make of it.

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Road Rage

I’ve always considered myself a caring and spiritual person, but when I get behind the wheel, that peaceful, loving person moves to the back seat, and my EGO takes command. Observing EGO’s behavior, it’s exactly the opposite of what I would like it to be. A crazy person takes over when I’m being pushed or under pressure. Observing this behavior is what I look for every morning on my way to the early meeting. I look for things that upset me so my EGO can come out to play, and he doesn’t play fair.

Each morning, there‘s a stoplight where I need to turn right. There are two lanes, one for straight and one for turning. Just about every day, some idiot, here I go judging again, pulls up in the turn lane and stops, causing everyone to wait. Then they take off like a drag racer to cut off those in the correct lane. This behavior sets off a desire to ram into that person, yell an obscenity, blow my horn, or signal with a not-so-complementary hand sign. It never happens no matter how I try to keep the EGO on my side of the fence.

When the meeting opens, several of us have the same issue. Yesterday, after sharing my displeasure with my behavior, it came to me, like a lightning bolt, that I was treating the problem and not looking for a solution. My first answer was that this would never happen if they only drove the way I wanted them to. So far, that solution hasn’t worked very well. Then, I think about and share why I act this way. The problem is inside me and will continue until I address the cause.

I remember reading an article in the Grapevine that discussed how I treat the leaves on a tree as my problem. The real problems are in the branches and, ultimately, the tree trunk. All emotions come from love or fear. Now I had something to look for. I asked the question, what am I afraid of?

As a child, I was bullied while never receiving positive affirmations from a drunken mother. I grew up without a father, as he died in a car accident when I was 12. After six years of therapy, when I was ten years sober, I thought I’d buried all of that stuff. I guess because the fear is still there, and it’s never been addressed. After looking over my life, I’ve found that I’ve been caring resentment for fifty years against a squadron commander who found me guilty of something I hadn’t done and reduced my rank just before being discharged. When I pleaded my case, he said how I could be right, but he would keep me in the Air Force for the next six months while I proved my innocence. I accepted his unfair decision and have been carrying that resentment ever since. He was the guy pushing me around, and I had no control over it. Now, fifty years later, I believe I will not let anyone push me around, so I act out in traffic. The problem is not how others drive but something that has been on my mind for a long time.

How do I deal with this? The same way I forgave my mother for her abuse. I wrote a letter and read it over her grave before burying it next to the headstone. I believe it’s time to write another letter. It’s time to let Colonel McKish go, as he’s been dead for 30 years but still alive inside me.

Today, I know that forgiveness is the answer to all my problems. Only time on the road will tell how well this has worked. With God’s help, I am the only one who can repair the emotional damage. Let’s see what tomorrow brings.

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Bless the Old Guy

Sometime in the mid-2000s, I packed all I owned and left the snowy northeast. It was a monumental move for me as I didn’t know a soul south of the Mason-Dixon Line, but I was willing to go to any length to get as far away from the cold as possible.

Once settled in my new home, I was off to find a new AA home. Was I in for a surprise? There was a clubhouse ten blocks away, so I gave it a go. It was called 2250. I spent several hours figuring out what AA slogan or something in the Big Book had something to do with that number. It turns out that the club name was the number on the building. That was taking “Keep It Simple” to a new level.

The next challenge came later in the meeting when an old-timer got up while someone was speaking and yelled, “It’s an inside job,” and sat down. I was shocked, intimidated, and wanted to leave after hearing that outburst. I was surprised that no one in the room seemed bothered by that besides me. Once again, two speakers later, he got up and yelled the same thing, “It’s an inside job,” and sat down. Already, I knew that meetings in New England were better than in Florida. I spent my first year taking inventory of every group, finding things they were doing wrong.

During the second year in the South, I slacked off on the inventory taking and started to adapt to the new way of doing AA. That first meeting with the old guy yelling rattled inside my mind. “What did he mean, and why did he yell?” Then, the answer came at another meeting. A person explained how, when she leaves her house in the morning, she looks for ways to upset her, and there were many if she looked. She talked about the sun in her eyes, the crazy people on the road, and how bad their driving was. Then there was trying to find a parking spot at the meeting. After listening to her, I realized how I do the same thing. “It’s an inside job,” kept running through my mind. It was me who was creating my misery, and only I could change it. The message from the old guy had finally resonated. I could change the way I looked at things. And when I did, the things I looked at changed. What a simple concept, except its more challenging than I thought it might be.

During my drive now, I bless all those on their way to work in the morning so I can continue to draw Social Security and not have to work. Some mornings, I can’t help myself and use the middle finger, but now I do it below the dashboard and not out the window. For some reason, the gesture doesn’t have the same effect as it once did.

Twenty eight years ago, I moved to the country where it’s much easier to look inside me in the morning to see just where I stand. AA calls it “a spot check inventory.” Then, when I find something I don’t like, I realize it is an inside job after all. Instead of fearing that old guy who yells at meetings, I am grateful he is still at 2250 trying to carry his essential message if only I’m willing to listen. God bless that old guy.

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Can I Listen and Think at the Same Time?

Have you ever talked directly to someone and felt they weren’t listening? Their mind appears to be somewhere else. It’s happened to me on too many occasions. I will express my ideas or feelings, and the other person replies with an answer that does not address the subject. They were thinking about their agenda and not listening to me. There is a vast difference between listening and hearing. Listening is an acknowledgment there’s something to be said. When I hear, I place what the person says in an area of my brain where I can analyze it later. 

Women tend to listen to one another and refrain from interrupting or making suggestions before the person finishes. Conversely, men are formulating a plan of attack while you’re laying out your case. Man’s way of thinking is, “If you are telling me about a problem, you must want me to give you an answer to fix it.” It’s a personality characteristic for men to do this. That is not to say some men are not good listeners, but it takes practice.

When I attend meetings, and someone speaks, I observe the people paying attention to the message and those making their grocery lists around the room. I know that is true because I have done it myself on more than one occasion. Some are even rude enough to be texting and that someone may even be in the same room. I know it’s true because the two will make eye contact and laugh at something they read. When it comes time for the texting person to speak, they expect our full attention, even if they need to know where the discussion has gone. Being present and attentive is not just a courtesy; it’s a sign of respect and can lead to better understanding and collaboration.

It’s time we give more respect to those who are speaking and spent less time in our heads on something else. I have been working on this for the past year. Guess what? I have learned a lot about how others handle situations that I may come across in the future. Active listening has enriched my understanding and empathy, and I’ve stored these valuable insights in my mental bank for later use. After all, why am I going to meetings? Is it to meet new people? It could be to hang out with old friends or enhance my sobriety by listening. 

It would be a shame if I were working on resentments or what I would say when it was my turn to speak when the speaker shared an experience that may come my way down the road, and I didn’t hear their answer, which could have saved me a lot of pain. There is that saying, “When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.” That can only happen if the student is paying attention. Today, I choose to open my ears and focus on where the answers are coming from. 

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There Are No Shortcuts

In early sobriety, the first three months anyway, I revered most of the happy faces I saw in meetings. They acted as if there was nothing to fear and everything to love. I was far from where they were and would express it when asked to share. There were some meetings where I would be left behind, as the chair knew my message. It was always the same: about being a victim and how my new life directly reflected my old one. Nothing had changed.
      Then came the meeting, which changed my outlook on life. You see, I’m a Pisces by birth. One of the personality traits of being born in March is we need to see things before believing them. After the meeting, a member sat me down with a picture that put everything in perspective. It showed a small river with two banks. There were twelve stones to cross the river. He said how being on one bank was my old life. The fear of losing my job, family, and myself in the bottle all resided there. Peace, harmony, prosperity, serenity, and happiness are experienced on the other side of the river, where the smiling faces live. He said how each rock was like one of the steps. When I am on the first rock or step, all I can see is what is behind me. He said there would be times when I would think about returning to what was familiar. He explained how the secret was to keep stepping on each stone in front of me. He then said that once I got closer to the other shore, it would become evident that the Promises of AA were coming true. He then reminded me how there is work to do at each step before stepping off to the next.
      The good news is the old way of living will become a memory, and the new way will be so exciting as each new door is unlocked. Behind each one is the dream I never knew existed outside of my addiction.
      I will forever be grateful for him showing me that picture and explaining how what I thought was impossible is now a reality. I dared to take that first step of willingness and believed in how others felt the process would work.

Thank you God, for taking me where I did not want to go.

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Whatever I Fertilize Grows

Living life as a human being is, in many ways, the same as living life as any other species in Mother Nature’s world.

Whatever emotion I fertilize will grow with the same enthusiasm as any seed planted in the ground. Emotions are the soil in which my ideas or seeds get planted. The Bible says if I plant a seed in sandy soil, it will not grow. If the seed lands in good soil while the ground is full of weeds, the weeds will consume the nourishment, and the good seed will wither. If I place my idea in fertile soil and spend the energy to discard the weeds, it will grow to its full potential and benefit everyone around it.

How do I start any idea or plan that enters my head? First, I take quiet time to ask God for guidance and strength. The Serenity Prayer is a good starting place. I’ve had many good thoughts that I figured would save the world and make me rich, but I only saw them fail miserably. During those times when I spend time asking for God’s help, the answer comes from a small voice somewhere within. If the idea involves personal gain, I know I am planting the seed in the sand. My motivation cannot be self-serving. When it comes to wealth, no matter how much I have, there is always room for more. If things turn sour and I lose something I never had, I will be sad and depressed. Money could be a better motivator. I know more poor people who are happy than rich ones.

When my heart is in the right place, with any plan, the plan will be a success. Even if the outcome isn’t what I wanted, the plan will still succeed because I have learned something.

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Nothing Happens in God’s World by Mistake

A well-known story in the book “Alcoholics Anonymous” was written by Doctor Paul on acceptance. In his writing, he says, “Nothing, absolutely nothing. happens in God’s world by mistake.” To many in recovery from alcohol, this statement is the most profound and meaningful in the entire book. I don’t think Doctor Paul knew his writing would help so many. I’ve based my life on this statement over the past thirty years. Everything that has happened is happening now, and what’s about to happen has a purpose or is a puzzle piece in the grand scheme. Doctor Paul knew how important it was for me to learn this simple truth as early in recovery as possible.

Today, there are no mistakes. Returning to my childhood, I see how each event fits perfectly into the next. It has all come together into a story that’s perfect in every way. It’s the story of my life, and only I can understand the meaning of what transpired.

When my father died in a car accident when I was twelve, I couldn’t have imagined how this tragedy would fit into my story. Now that I am seventy-three years old, it fits in its proper place. That event started my slide into the darkness, but I did survive. I didn’t grieve his death for fifty years. When my first son died at birth, it took forty-five years to grieve that. Where is the lesson? Now, I see that I suffered needlessly because I never reached out for help. Today, I use my experience with death to help others not to do as I did.

When I lost the self-help bookstore that I had worked so hard to make a success in, I didn’t see that lesson either until later. That lesson was not to trust my feelings in objects that cannot succeed or items that will wear out of break.

When I started reaching out for help during tough times, my grieving process became much quicker, and I didn’t suffer needlessly.

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