- Alcohol
Ralph and I walked into the meeting room at 8:00 right on time. I quickly scanned the room, and it appeared to me each one of the 30 or so meeting goers were a minimum of 40 years old. I am not sure what I expected, and it made me only slightly uncomfortable. I was 23.
Ralph was just five years my senior but could pass for 30-something due to his mature mannerisms, style of dress, handsome looks of a grown man and his command of the English language. Ralph was a businessman in his everyday life. I was a college dropout. A chasm opened up between our maturity levels as we wandered around the room for the first five minutes before the meeting formally started. Ralph made the rounds shaking at least a dozen hands as he eased his way through the groups of people who all seemed to know each other like they were best friends. I tagged behind like a lost puppy with a fake smile on my face. He made his way over to the coffee table and poured himself a cup. I followed his every move trying not to break down into a shaking basket case as I clutched a paper cup filled with hot liquid that passed as bad watered down coffee.
The meeting was soon to start and people started taking their seats. Ralph was wandering toward a part of the room that seemed to be his usual area to sit. I followed behind, bug-eyed and freaked out. I was determined not to be so codependent that I had to sit next to Ralph so I found an open chair next to a smiling face and plunked myself down with a friendly nod to the people on my left and right.
It was clear to me people in the room were comfortable and relaxed. I decided right then that I had nothing to be afraid of so I should just sit down and chill out as best I could. The meeting began. I remember it was a woman with grey hair who was the chairperson running the show. I think we started out with a prayer. I just followed along like I knew what I was doing but I was completely in the dark as to the procedures and rituals of a 12 Step meeting. It became clear to me that everyone in the room knew this was my first meeting. This was a tight group of people who all knew each other well and no one was going to break ranks and cut me some slack. It was an open discussion meeting and the topic was humility, gratitude or some other word that represented a concept for which I had no understanding. I sat there and listened to one person after another make these eloquent speeches when called upon, but they made no sense to me in the slightest. It was as if everyone was speaking a foreign language or speaking some kind of secret code that only they understood. Out of fear that the chairwoman would call on me and ask if I had something to say or add to the topic, I played along like it made sense to me. The only thing I understood was that after someone was called upon, he or she would start offering thoughts on this philosophic topic by saying, “Hello, my name is Jim (or Sally) and I am an alcoholic.” Then the babble would start. I felt like a first grader sitting in on a college class. I had absolutely zero idea about what language all these kind folks were speaking. It was the language of this 12 Step group.
There was a clock that hung on the wall, a big round one with black and white numbers. It was the kind you would find in any standard classroom. It was all I could do to not stare at it the entire meeting. It took a while but I finally realized that looking up at the clock every 30 seconds didn’t make the minute hand go around any faster. After 40 minutes, it was time for a break. I got up and tried not to run for the door. I didn’t want to be too obvious. I lit up a cigarette as fast as I could. It turned out since the church was so old it was a non-smoking meeting because of the possible fire hazard. I found a place off to the side and smoked my cigarette while listening to other people talk and laugh and get along like they were just living life.
Meanwhile I was ready to jump out of my skin. I really wasn’t sure if I could take another 40 minutes of Calculus 301. If it was college, I would have walked right over to the dean’s office to drop the class immediately. However, this wasn’t college. I had killed that golden goose with my drinking, drugging and partying. I treated my opportunities at The University of Vermont and The University of Colorado like they were giant places to party and get drunk rather than actually learning something.
I was 23 years old at this point. I had the second half of my first 12 Step meeting to finish and all I could think about was a drink. I needed one badly. Maybe at that moment I needed a drink worse than I ever had before. But a little voice inside me was telling me that those days were over, whether I liked it or not. I had boxed myself deep into a corner, and there was no way out. I had no idea what was waiting ahead for me, except another 40 minutes of Calculus 301. This was not my idea of a good time. I torched another Marlboro and dragged it down with all my might. I had to get through another 40 minutes of this humility and gratefulness crap before I could talk to Ralph and ask him what the f**k this was. Was this what I had to look forward to for the rest of my life?
One thing really stuck with me and I picked up on it pretty early. I heard a number of people say it and it made no sense to me whatsoever. It was when I heard someone say something about being a “grateful alcoholic.” I thought, “Let’s call in the professionals. These people are nuts. What on God’s green earth is there to be grateful for?” I was starting to realize that I was an alcoholic and that I had run out of excuses, lies and fabrications. I have no one to blame for the mess my life is in but me. What have I got to look forward to? Going to these f**king meetings when all I want is a damn beer?
The meeting was starting again, and it was time to head back inside. I was thoroughly defeated. I didn’t have the energy to put up any pretense that I was happy or in a positive mood. I just sat there and listened with my head in my hands to one person after another carry on about feeling grateful or having a sense of humility, none of which I understood. I was starting to get the picture in my mind that hanging out in the Rocky Mountains and in Boulder, CO, down at the mall on a Friday night were both light years behind me and that all I had to look forward to was AA boot camp.
I had been exposed to a 12 Step program before when I spent a couple weeks in rehab. But as far as I was concerned, 12 Step was for those people, not me. I had done two stints at rehab, one in New Hampshire and one in Colorado. Both times, I stayed long enough to get the doctors off my back and left against medical advice. They make a big deal out of it and make you sign a bunch of forms before you finally get out. These were the days when rehab was usually completed in 28 days, like in the movie with Sandra Bullock. I checked into these two places a couple years apart when I had been on long drinking binges and was really sick from all the booze. But no way was I staying 28 days and no way was I buying into a 12 Step program while I was there or giving it a try after I left. And no way was I staying sober or even giving the idea of quitting drinking anything more than a fleeting thought. I suppose I figured my day would come, but when I was at those 28 day rehabs and my life was still together, I was not considering the idea of not drinking. In today’s world, you are lucky if you can find an insurance company to pay for a five-day detox, much less 28 days rehab, no matter how bad you might need it.
When I was 19 years old, I secretly knew that I had a drinking problem that was beyond just having a few too many once in a while. I knew there was something different about the way I drank. But like every true diehard alcoholic, I was going to control my drinking, cut back, slow down, drink only beer, stay away from the hard stuff or move to a different location. The list goes on. Every alcoholic has it. The list is in the alcoholic’s handbook. Sitting in the second half of that meeting in the old white church, it was all tumbling down on top me. My mood had shifted. My ego was cracking in half like some kind of seismic action was happening inside me. At that moment sitting in that AA room listening to those last four or five people share their feelings about being humble and grateful, I needed some humor. However, I could not find any funny thought in my head. This time, it was different. It was all too different. It was all too real. Like a bad poker player, with not even a handful of chips and nothing but cold cards, I had left myself no outs.
I was not knee deep in this situation. I was drowning far out at sea and I didn’t know it until that night. Ralph had just thrown me a lifeline if I wanted to grab onto it and see where it took me. I didn’t know it but he was bringing me to a place that would offer me a chance at life. It would either take or not. I would either take to it or not. Hell, I knew when my luck was gone for good.
Finally, the meeting came to an end. I started to barely come out of my trance. I was gone. I was on another planet orbiting a whole new solar system. And I heard the woman who was leading the group ask something about any newcomers who would like to be recognized. Somehow, I raised my hand and said, “Yeah, I am Tom and I am an alcoholic. Thanks.” The next thing I heard was the entire room applauding. All at once, they clapped for almost a minute with a bunch of statements of “Keep coming!” I almost smiled. I just nodded my head. I had said it. I meant it. There was no taking it back. This was the start of something new and different.
I was grabbing the lifeline. I didn’t want to be an alcoholic. But it really wasn’t up to me. I was one, simple as that. I had to deal with it one way or another. I had already tried all the other ways. We got up in a circle and said the Serenity Prayer. Then it was over, and I headed for the door. I wanted a cigarette. I stood near the exit and lit one up while I waited for Ralph to say his goodbyes. Several people shook my hand and offered a word of encouragement. A few said, “Keep coming back! See you next week! You are always welcome!” I just stood there in shock and tried to be polite. I had entered a zone, a new place I was unfamiliar with. I realized I was now a member of AA, and this would be my nightly ritual. Ralph came out while talking to a few folks, and then he turned his attention towards me. He said,“So you made it. You made it through your first meeting.” He lit a cigarette and said, “Why don’t we go get a coffee and talk a while.”
I said, “Okay.” I was numb.