Thank you, all of you, seen and unseen members of AA, for continuing to take this walk into the unknown with me. You are the treat I truly savor.
Christine P.
North Hollywood, California
Meditation
September 1994
Now that I have survived getting sober and have begun my spiritual journey in recovery, meditation has become a valuable tool in my daily life.
Why meditate? Because it helps us to live in the now and is suggested in the Eleventh Step: “Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him ...”
When I first got sober I was filled with fear and self-loathing. It was suggested that I try to meditate to help with the severe anxiety and insomnia I suffered from. My response to the suggestion was, “But I can't meditate.” Yet, I had never tried to meditate; it was hard for me to imagine just sitting still and being with myself.
I have since learned that anyone can meditate. You don't have to be a yogi mystic or join an ashram to learn how. After medicating and anesthetizing myself with alcohol, I found I needed something to be gentle with my vulnerable self. That something for me was meditation.
My life was so full in recovery, I was finding it hard to accomplish all the things that I wanted to do in a day, trying to make up for twenty years of time lost because of active alcoholism. I wanted to get well yesterday, yet I resisted trying meditation because it was new and different. “I can't find the time to meditate, what with meetings, school, and just life in general.” My sponsor responded with, “Make the time for yourself! Like meetings, eating well, and exercising, meditation is a wonderful daily gift of self-love. Find a special place, your own private retreat, to meditate for just twenty minutes a day.”
I found myself on an emotional roller coaster, as so many of us talk about in the program. I had a hard time concentrating and communicating how I was feeling, other than lousy. I joined a meditation group that met once a week and I felt frustrated when I first attempted to meditate and nothing happened, other than feeling uncomfortable in my own skin. All my racing thoughts and every little noise around me were irritating distractions. I had a hard time focusing and paying attention. When asked how it was going, I responded, “It's not working for me; there are too many distractions.” I was gently told it's normal to have thoughts and noises distract me from clearing my mind, but to just notice them instead of resisting or struggling, gently bringing myself back to my breathing.
I assumed I was doing something wrong. After all, my low self-esteem had me convinced that I could do nothing right. “But how do I meditate? With so much turmoil and stress already in my life, how do I sit quietly and calmly meditate for twenty minutes?” It was suggested that I dress comfortably, sit either cross-legged or in a chair, whichever was more comfortable as long as my back was straight, close my eyes, and begin to focus on my natural breathing. I finally stopped resisting and did it, “keeping it simple.”
Upon awakening after my daily prayers, I now meditate for twenty minutes in my own private retreat before facing the world.
Meditation has become a daily gift of self-love, just as my sponsor promised it would be. I'm beginning to clear up and have had genuine moments of serenity. Meditation, as part of the Steps, continues to be a valuable tool in helping me improve my conscious contact with my Higher Power. Like anything, meditation gets easier with practice. It has helped me to become less anxious; instead of reacting to every little problem, I'm able to stand back and look for solutions. I still have my moments like every human being, and I'm far from perfect, but I feel better about myself today. In my fourth year of recovery, thanks to Alcoholics Anonymous and the Twelve Steps, I am becoming the woman I was meant to be, “one day at a time.”
Nancy D.
Falmouth, Massachusetts
Where It's At
March 2008
During the Christmas holidays in 1966, guess what? I was drunk. My brother, who had recently gotten sober in AA, came to visit me.
“You should go to AA. That's where it's at,” he said.
I raved, “I know where it's at! I'm a jazz musician! 'It' is wine, women, and song; drugs, sex, and rock 'n' roll; it's being hip, slick, and cool; it's recognition, fame, and applause. That's where 'it's' at!” I bellowed back.
“Go to AA,” my brother calmly repeated. “That's where it's at.”
“Okay, smart mouth, what is your idea of 'it'?”
He said, “'It' is anonymous. It has no name, it's the complement to professionalism. It is 'God as we understood him.' So you can't argue with us. We surrender.”
I was astonished. That's all he said. His silence was more convincing than any words. Curious, I went to my first AA meeting on January 2, 1967, and have been sober ever since, by the grace of God and the help of AA.
Dave C.
Richmond, California
With a Little Help from My Friends
November 2001
I came to my first AA meeting after having spent thirty days not drinking, to prove that I wasn't an alcoholic. Following this month of abstinence, I walked into a liquor store and went home with my bottles, saying all the while, “I don't want to do this, I don't want to do this.” By evening I was totally drunk, had a huge fight with my husband (during which I threw my glasses at him and broke them), and then—“just to show him”—I called the AA hotline. The one thing I remember from that conversation was being told that the next meeting was a womens' meeting the following evening, at the one church in the area I knew, literally one mile down the street from where we lived.
So I came into the Fellowship, taking Step One wholeheartedly; I knew I was an alcoholic and that my life was unmanageable. But that was as far as I was able to go at the time. I wanted nothing to do with the concept of God, so my sponsor told me that I could use the group as my Higher Power. Since I wanted what those people had, I was willing to do that. So the Sisters in Sobriety became not only my home group, but also my Higher Power.
That was the end of March; in June I had promised to go to Maine to deliver a paper. My husband and I had planned a swing through the northern states to visit friends and family, staying in Maine with a friend with whom I always spent a night drinking whenever we got together. I was anxious about the trip. Looking back, I realize that although I was to some extent on a pink cloud, I was also fearful of many things, since sobriety was so new. So one thing I did right was to let my friend know that I was not drinking and I was in AA.
When we got to Maine, it turned out that my friend had planned a party while we were there. When I expressed some fear about that, she reassured me that she wouldn't be drinking and there would be other people who wouldn't be drinking. I was still anxious, since the only way I knew to meet and talk to strangers was to have a few drinks first.
When the evening came, everyone drank. Some left fairly early, but those who stayed to party and to dance were drinking a lot. All except me. You know how I felt. Then the moment came when everyone was in the living room dancing or in clusters “discussing” various topics, and I was sitting alone at the kitchen table (the kitchen was the designated smoking area) smoking cigarettes and feeling left out. And to my immediate left sat a nearly full fifth of Jamesons.
Now Scotch is my drug of choice, but Irish will do in a pinch. I swear, it was speaking to me, calling my name. So I did what I had heard in AA to do—I called on my Higher Power. I conjured up the womens' group at the table around me: Susan,