Magazine

From the December 2018 magazine.

We're not alone

For eight months, I was crushed by an overwhelming depression. My father had shot himself. Then two months later to the day, my mother killed herself with pills. I found myself spending hours after work dozing on the couch until dinner. Then I’d drag myself to bed. I was down to one AA meeting a week. It was one of the lowest points I’d ever had in sobriety. This time life had handed me a mountain I couldn’t climb. 

One night after my third trip back and forth from the couch to the front door, trying to open it and go to a meeting, I noticed my wife looking at me. I told her with my hand still on the doorknob, “I don’t want to go to a meeting tonight.” She said, so kindly, “When you don’t want to go … isn’t that when you have to?” 

-- Bob H.

Dana Point, California

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