From the October 2014 magazine.

Exhibit A

When I first got to AA, I considered it a chore. I really didn’t want to go. I went just once a week and didn’t work the Steps or get a sponsor. After all, I wasn’t an alcoholic. I had nothing in common with “those people.” I didn’t drink every day; I had my job and my home; and I wasn’t hurting anyone. My blackout episodes went from once in a while to every time I drank, but somehow I always managed to find a way to justify them. And even though I’m a 5 foot 3, 140-pound woman and had absolutely no problem drinking my buddies Jim, Jack and José under the table, I didn’t have a problem. The only reason I even went to AA was because I’d managed to anger quite a few people after a night of madness and I wanted them off my back.

Finally, after a major relapse, I got to see a videotape of my drunken actions and had some acceptance shoved down my throat. Out the window went my denial. I was now an alcoholic. So I came back to AA, and this time I said, “OK, I’m broke, how do you fix me?”

-- Brooklyn W.

Jacksonville, Florida

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