Today I can honestly say that I know a new freedom and a new happiness. I don’t regret my past, nor wish to shut the door on it. I have seen how my experiences can and have benefited others. I comprehend the word serenity and I know peace. And I realize that God is doing for me the things I cannot do myself. I also know that none of these things has come about because of me. The only thing I ever accomplished was getting myself put in prison. I owe each and every day of my sobriety to God, and to you, the Fellowship of Alcoholics Anonymous, especially those of you who carry the message to us AAs in prison.
HOWARD W.
WRIGHTSVILLE, KANSAS
Young and In Pain
Dear Grapevine, July 2003
When I came to my first meeting in 1980, I was twenty-three years and eleven months old. Most members of that group were age thirty or older. They tried to treat me like an alcoholic, but I felt their patronizing attitude. A few told me, “If you are not an alcoholic in disgrace, you are in time to stop and save yourself fifteen years of the pain we suffered.” But one said, “You are not an alcoholic. Don’t waste your time here. Go outside. Find a girlfriend and take her to the movies.”
The words of those members were not enough to stop me from attending meetings. I knew, I felt, there was something in the meeting room for me. After ten years of drinking, I was ready to receive help. After suffering an internal pain for years (loneliness, resentment, hate—the relief for which was drinking), I was touched by God’s grace and decided to get what those AA members had. I hit bottom in my country, Mexico. I lead my first AA meeting there in 1980. I have not had a single drink since.
If you are a young alcoholic, older members will see you as being different. But it doesn’t matter. Don’t let them stop you. It’s your life, not theirs. Go to meetings, find a sponsor, get into service, until you get what the winners in AA have gotten: a full and sober life.
JOSÉ A.M.
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
Wanted
May 1997
Fourteen years old and two thousand miles from home I realized something wasn’t right in my life. I had run away from home two months before so that I’d be able to be “on my own.” I found myself in Amarillo, Texas. I’d been running with a gang but now I found myself on the street. I feared the night. I found food in the dumpsters of restaurants until I learned to steal, and stealing became a way of life. It is the way I acquired my booze, my food, my cigarettes, and my clothing. I lived in the fear that someday I’d be caught. Sometimes I got sick to my stomach just thinking about it. It occurred to me that perhaps my life wasn’t normal, but the thought would soon pass. This was life as I knew it.
I didn’t dream of the day that I’d be a success in a career. Instead I wanted to go back to the time when drinking was fun, when I could sneak out of the house and return late at night, when drinking didn’t bring me pain. I didn’t want to be alone anymore. I wanted a friend again.
In the fall of that year I was placed in a facility for teenagers with social problems. It was an intense treatment. Most of those with me were convicted criminals. Though I’d also been guilty of crimes, I’d never been caught. The facility was safe and I liked it there. After three and a half months, they released me with the explanation that they were unable to help me. I was diagnosed an alcoholic and AA was strongly suggested.
At the first meeting I attended, I learned of the love that AAs have for each other. I was made to feel welcome. Unlike other organizations, there were no dues or initiation fees. In fact, I was told not to contribute until I’d been there six weeks. AA was different from anything I’d ever heard of. I was wanted.
It has been over seven years since I took a drink. Life hasn’t been all smooth sailing, but because of AA, I no longer have to live in fear. I sleep at night. I have a new relationship with my Creator. I have a purpose in life.
SHANE L.
MANKATO, MINNESOTA
A Fresh Introduction to Hell
July 1998
I started drinking when I was eleven years old. My grandpa was drinking beer and he asked me if I wanted a sip. I said yes. My sip was finishing off the bottle, and then drinking quite a few more. I hated the taste of beer and despised the smell, but when the effects hit me, I was in love. My whole body burned with a numbing fire. I could stand on top of the world with alcohol. All my problems went away.
Right off I was an everyday drinker. I stole from my friends’ parents, hung out at slop houses, and went to parties. None of the people I went to school with had any clue what I was doing. But I was hooked.
For a year, no one knew that I was drinking almost all the time. At twelve years old, I had my first experience with drugs and I got that high feeling again—the feeling that I could stand on top of the world. I was popular, beautiful, and bulletproof. My journey with drugs progressed rapidly with the aid of my alcoholism.
It was fun for a time. The parties were good, the friends were good, life seemed good. But the fun didn’t last. It became harder to get the things I needed from people. School authorities didn’t like my habits or my attitudes, so I was kicked out of every school I went to.
My parents were baffled. They didn’t know that I was drinking and drugging; they thought I was going through a rebellious phase. I didn’t care what they thought as long as they didn’t know the truth.
I didn’t know the truth either—that I had a problem that was steadily getting worse. I started prostituting for drugs, and it ripped me up inside. Getting out of bed every morning was a fresh introduction to hell.
In January 1996, I ran away from home. I was sleeping on curbs in the Utah winter. I couldn’t control my craving for alcohol. I had reached my bottom.
Two weeks later, my parents found me. They took me to an adolescent psychiatric ward where I made an alcohol inventory and got a Big Book that I read cover to cover. But when I got out of treatment, I didn’t know where to go and I started drinking again. My relapse lasted a little over three weeks. I woke up one morning, looked in the mirror and started to cry. I was fourteen, weighed eighty-five pounds, had stringy hair and dead eyes lined with fatigue. That person in the mirror scared me; I didn’t want it to be me. I needed help.
I called my psych ward and my counselor gave me the number of an AA central office. I took it. I felt hope resurfacing in my life for the first time in years.
I didn’t call for another week. I was scared; I wasn’t sure what I would say. I stayed dry for that week, but I was miserable. Finally, that misery became too much to bear. I picked up the phone and called.
A really nice lady answered. She took my name and number and told me that someone would get back to me as soon as possible. Someone did. That person took me to my first meeting.
I don’t remember a whole lot that was said at that meeting, but there was a feeling of happiness and peace in that room and it affected me.
I started going to meetings every day. I got a sponsor. I began to work the Steps. I got into lots of service work. Surprisingly enough, my life began to change for the better. I found a Higher Power of my own understanding.
Now I’m sixteen years old, and I’m coming up on two years of sobriety. I’d love to tell you that life has been easy and sweet since I got sober, but some days I have to really work to keep my sanity. But I have a program for living that makes it much easier.
Life is better today. I have a support group of