God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.1
On October 21, 2007, I started attending a twelve-step program and I have never stopped.
For years, everyone had seen me totally plastered, night after night, crawling from club to club, from party to party. Many nights, when I got to a point where I was barely conscious, my friends threw me into a cab and sent me home, praying I’d get there safely. Little did they know, I often ended up in a knock-down, drag-out fight with the cab driver because he wouldn’t let me smoke crack in the back of his taxi. Believe it or not, I thought this was normal behavior.
But that day, in October, 2007, I knew it was time to change my life. I was sick and tired of my behavior—I had to get some serious help.
Those first few twelve-step meetings were a complete blur. It was frightening, because I was hoping that I could actually get sober and, of course, the trick of it all is to stay sober one day at a time. I was run down and depleted. I felt like a zombie and my immune system totally sucked. Once again, it was being completely compromised. I had been taking my HIV meds with alcohol and drugs for so long, I could feel my body completely falling apart. I thought to myself: I How could I continue to take my meds this way? I was totally overwhelmed. I worried I might lose my strength to go forward.
But something kept me moving. When I arrived at the front door of the meeting place, I had serious hesitation about going in. My mind and my body were filled with fear and shame. I was mortified. I had ruined so much in my life, had been so irresponsible to the people I loved, and now I found myself taking the biggest step ever by walking through that door.
In the early days of attending meetings, it is suggested that you raise your hand as early as possible and say your first name followed by “I’m an alcoholic.” That’s what I did, and I felt a small sense of relief, like I could start breathing again.
It was also suggested that I get a sponsor. I asked a dear friend I had known for years who had double-digit sobriety if he might fill that important role; he said he would. His first suggestion was for me to go to ninety meetings in ninety days. That process gives you a sober routine so that by the end of the ninety-day period you could feel the toxins leaving your body, rerouting your brain chemistry to the point where you begin to feel a glimmer of hope.
On the ninetieth day, I decided to share my story. In the middle of the room, up against the wall, there is a small table and chair where the guest speaker sits to “qualify.”2 But the moment I sat down to tell my story, I put my head on the desk and just sobbed uncontrollably. I don’t remember how long it took me to pull myself together, but when I did, I told everyone about my messed-up, fucked-up, drugged-up, alcoholic life. I had been a complete no-show for every single event my family and friends had invited me to, never mind that I was a liar and a thief as well. I talked about how my friends and family couldn’t count on me for anything. I spoke about how I didn’t pay attention to many important things in my life for so many years.
I couldn’t believe I was sitting in that chair telling the whole awful truth about myself to a roomful of strangers—the complete, unvarnished truth. Really, for the first time, I was being totally honest with myself. I started to feel enormous freedom. I felt my body relaxing. It was the beginning of a huge turning point in my life.
I’ve met some fascinating people at the meetings. We may all come from different walks of life, but we end up in the same place. At the heart of it all, we’re just a group of drunks looking to get sober one day at a time. That collective energy—of wanting to get sober—empowers each of us as we, “made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understand Him.”3
I’ve learned many lessons in my sober life. Because of my renewed faith in God, whenever I wake up with fear, manifesting itself as anxiety, and my mind starts telling me that I’m not good enough, wondering if anyone will ever love me, that I’m fifty-nine years old and may never get a job again—I know those thoughts were part of an old tape in an old life that played in my head endlessly. I have learned so much in my twelve-step program, so when my mind becomes filled with those old worries, it now quickly changes and is replaced with prayer. My belief in God moves me to live in faith, hope, and love so that I have peace of mind at the end of each and every day.
My life in sobriety is very rich and full and I feel like I can do anything. I am now becoming the person I have always wanted to be. Friends and family know that I’m reliable and responsible and they can count on me. I am here to be of good service to everyone that I meet.
Life is still such a mystery to me, though I have learned many valuable lessons along the way. And the most important lesson I have learned is to live in love and not fear. It took me a long time to get there. I know many strive for perfection, which I don’t believe exists. But what I do know is that I work on myself every day to be the best person I can be, so that I can show compassion and gratitude to everyone I encounter.
It’s been twelve years now and I still go to meetings every day, Monday through Friday. When I wake up in the morning, I make my bed, I boil water for tea, and then I get on my knees to pray. All of the prayers are filled with gratitude.
Thank you, God, for waking me up.
Thank you for waking me up sober.
Thank you for my twelve-step program.
Thank you for my sponsor.
Thank you for my mom.
Thank you for my renewed relationship with my sister, Cheryl.
Since there are usually so many people to thank, that gratitude list sometimes goes on forever, yet it fills me with such joy. I usually add the prayers I had grown up saying in the Catholic Church: the Our Father, the Hail Mary, and the Glory Be. When I finish, I put on my hat, coat, and shoes, and go out the door to take on the world, and I always say the Serenity Prayer as I leave.
I also find inspiration from authors and thinkers such as: Charles Bukowski, John O’Donohue, Hilda Charlton, Sister Joan Chittister, Rumi, Mary Oliver, Patti Smith, and James Baldwin.
In the end, the beauty of being sober is that I show up for life. I showed up for my mom’s life. I continue to show up for Cheryl’s life. I show up for my own life. How wonderful it is to be present and grateful, to acknowledge all the gifts we are given each and every day . . . as this amazing journey continues.