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These changes have come about since my faltering and almost disinterested approach to AA.

      I did not think myself alcoholic, and if I had, probably would have tried to conceal it, had I not learned that alcoholism is a disease no more to be ashamed of than diabetes or tuberculosis.

      My symptoms were similar to those of many others, no very exclusive ones peculiar to my very special case. For some time I was aware of the fact that I could not depend on me especially after that first drink. My former enthusiastic interest in my home, the appreciation of the beautiful rural surroundings in which I live, the enjoyment in my dogs, my music, my interest in the several community projects in which I worked was waning and in some instances had disappeared. Worst of all, my attitude toward my fine husband was changing to the point where my love for him was rather vague and detached. Sometimes I wondered what was happening and became thoroughly miserable over it but I always found that a cocktail or two magically changed the complexion of things, temporarily at least, and it was always tomorrow that I would face reality. Aside from one incident, there was nothing to indicate to the casual observer what was slowly and insidiously eating at my very soul.

      Like many others in AA to whom I have talked, it was easy to admit that my life was unmanageable but not that I was powerless over alcohol, the latter for several reasons. I did not drink in great quantities. Sometimes, because it was not convenient, I would not have anything for as long as six months. I had never promised myself nor anyone else that I would not drink again. The only person who had suggested it was my husband and I could see no reason for it. However, after being informed on alcoholism, the first part of the First Step was relatively easy for me.

      To receive this education on alcoholism, I spent every day for two weeks from noon until midnight in one of the AA clubs of a neighboring city, where I talked to men and women of all ages and wide experience every night. I went there with the idea of looking over the situation and deciding whether I would be interested in the program or would condescend to associate with any of the adherents. What a revelation to my ears and eyes awaited me!

      I was just run-of-the-mill.

      Those people were all sober and they were all happier than I had been for at least five years. Toward the end of the two weeks, I had learned that I was an alcoholic, that my case was just run-of-the-mill. I was not special at all. I had also learned that if I continued to drink, it was not impossible, indeed it was highly probable, that my material circumstances would change for the worse, my health would decline and my mind become more befuddled and foggy … all these if something worse did not get me first! But I also learned that my disease could be arrested, if I would accept the Twelve Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous as a way of life, and best of all I would be happy again, would feel love in my heart, would enjoy God's beauties and would be anxious to give of myself in service to others. I learned I must not only accept the Twelve Steps but must work each one as written, in the order named, each day that it is my privilege to greet; and from that time on, my life should be made up of twenty-four-hour periods.

      The simplicity of the whole thing appealed to me. What a relief to “turn everything over" after the highly complicated design I had for living! Now that the days have lengthened into a few years, my husband is beloved and cherished, the house has become a home again and some of the community projects have progressed because of my willing service. Best of all, there have been invisible changes in me and each day my heart sings as I try to do His will for me. All this did not happen overnight. It required diligent working of the Twelve Steps and application of the principles, and the task is far from accomplishment, but the dividends are growing.

      Even though I am the granddaughter of a clergyman, the daughter of a clergyman, the niece of four clergymen, and the cousin of three clergymen, God had never been real to me and it certainly had never occurred to me to get him mixed up in my problems. Strange that I should find my God in a group of recovered alcoholics, yet it is the most magnificent and humbling experience I have ever known.

      G.R.P.

      Richmond, Indiana

      July 1957

      It has been my contention for some time that AA is not merely a fellowship of ex-drunks gathered together for the purpose of staying sober. It is a program for better living, in which the gaining and maintaining of sobriety is merely the first step—to alcoholics a “must” and all-important one.

      The AA program centers on better living rather than sobriety. In the Twelve Steps the words alcohol and alcoholics are each mentioned only once. I think it is logical to assume that they are used in Steps One and Twelve simply because we are a Fellowship of alcoholics and sobriety is our first problem, not our last; nor can they all be solved by sobriety alone.

      The other ten Steps do not refer to drinking but dwell on improving our way of living. I will concede that these other ten Steps would help a person stay sober if he saw fit to use them for that purpose and they are no doubt an indirect asset to sobriety; but they are a direct benefit to a better way of life.

      The “Definition of AA,” as many have seen fit to call it, is for me a complete explanation of AA.

      The last sentence in the so-called “Definition” says: “Our primary purpose is to stay sober and help other alcoholics to achieve sobriety.” It does not say “Our purpose”—it says “Our primary purpose.” In other words, not the whole purpose but the first.

      First of what? My answer is—the first of a series of things we must do if we want a better way of life.

      R.B.

      Addison, New York

      March 1962

      Stupidly, my great downfall—after nearly two sober years in AA—came about because of a misconception of the First Step.

      In 1945 I had suffered very little from my chronic alcoholism. Sheer luck had saved me from jails, and a loving and patient family spared me from many humiliations which I richly deserved. I had lost several jobs, but each time moved on to better ones.

      Early in 1945 when I had just lost a particularly good job with a rosy future because of a month-long binge, I came to AA. In meeting after meeting I heard fellow members tell of gruesome experiences in jails and “booby-hatches”—of wrecked homes, destitution and skid row, and each time they prefaced their remarks by saying, “My name is Joe, and I'm an alcoholic.”

      Because of staying sober in AA for a while, I prospered in business. And the more I prospered the more I wondered about my experience as compared to my fellow members who kept saying they were “alcoholics” and had been so much worse off than I had been.

      At the same time I heard it frequently said that “in the First Step we admitted we were alcoholics.” And I began to wonder whether, by comparison, I was really an alcoholic, or had just been using a wrong mental attitude in my drinking. In other words, I was doing a lot of silly rationalizing and dwelling on the comparison of myself and fellow members.

      Naturally this led to a “blow-off” in less than two years, and I reverted to drinking, but with increased consumption. My whole object for the ensuing six years was to escape from myself—to bury my shame—as I felt I had failed in AA as I had failed my family, my employers and my Higher Power.

      During this six-year interval I lost everything I possessed, not only all worldly possessions, but family, friends and respect in my field of work. I went heavily into debt, well into the five-figure bracket.

      Early in 1953 I had reached a low “bottom,” and crawled back to AA. This time I read the First Step with definite understanding for the first time. I observed that it said, “We admitted we were powerless over alcohol”—nary a word about being “an alcoholic”! I was not sensitive then—or before—about the word, but before my interest had been in whether I qualified as “an alcoholic” as I heard it referred to in meetings.

      Now I suddenly realized that all I had to do was ask myself a simple question: “Am I or am I not powerless over alcohol?” I didn't have to compare myself or

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