You look at the clock. Only ten minutes left in your share. And you still haven’t gotten to what it’s like now, the good part. Even so your lead was not absent of hope. That flicker of awareness… that distant horizon. Your drunkalog now, like your drinking then, could not hide it completely. It was in your eyes.

Bill Wilson wrote, “Few people will sincerely try to practice the AA program unless they have truly hit bottom.” If you were not what he called a “last gasper” you most certainly had plumbed the dregs.

Portion redacted…

Having thoroughly qualified your seat in AA, you say what you always say, what you never want to forget. “Needing this program is never enough. You have to want it.” Aping a grade school teacher, you wag your finger. “Your boss, your priest, your doctor, your wife; all these people said you needed to quit drinking. So maybe you did to ride out the storm. But as soon as that court card was signed you were right back out there, ripping and running.”

The group nods.

You apologize for using the pronoun you. In AA, the arrow only points in one direction. But it was intentional, demonstrating the futility of receiving a lecture. Those never worked, you say. You always knew you needed to stop drinking. For years and years…

To be continued…