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August 2007
Vol. 64 No. 4
Don't Call Me Young
Learning to love oneself at any age
The last thing I wanted was to be seen as a "young person" in AA when I came in at twenty-seven. I was one of those who wanted to be forty years old with ten years of sobriety in the first week.
Once I got to AA, after being beaten into submission by my disease, I was very clear on being powerless over alcohol, but I did not understand the second half of the First Step. I had so much pride that
I could not admit my life was unmanageable.
Maybe that is why I could not be around the young people in my county; they could admit that they were not able to manage their lives. All I knew was that I was afraid. I thought by hanging around with
people my age and younger, I would drink again for sure. So, I tried to be around the old-timers. This was in the day when a lot of them would tell people off and lecture a lot, but they were rock-solid
sober and a far better bet for me.
I used to hear the "you are so lucky you got here so young" routine. I wanted to strike the people who said that. After all, I had my serious share of troubles for my thirteen years of drinking,
including jails, guns, bad boys, gangs -- you name it. My mother got sober at forty-seven; my being twenty-seven was something she marveled at. But I did not feel young. I felt old inside, like the
leathery skin I saw on the old-timers, and I wanted what they had: long-term sobriety.
The sponsor I found was a loving woman, about ten years older than I. She had been sober forever (eight years) and she was kind to me. I had never experienced kindness before and it was odd, but I really
appreciated it. She told me that I was not unique in how I felt, but that I was special and my story would help someone, some day, young or old, and that was why I had the experiences I’d had. She told me I
didn't need to have ten years sober in one day or to be forty when I was not. It all sounded so remote to me, but twenty-one years later, by working the Steps, the wisdom of what she said has proven true to
me; my experiences have helped a lot of women. After countless inventories, I finally realized that I was so out of control on the inside that I was afraid to let people know who I really was. I
thought people my own age would see right through that.
I felt like I needed my sponsors to be my "mothers," because I had a hard time growing up. They all said, "I am not your mother," but they helped me to grow up, and to practice love and tolerance of
others. I had one of the "educational variety" of spiritual awakenings. It took a lot of work to get closer to God, to realize my internal life is unmanageable, and that I am one among others, a worker
among workers, not someone set aside to be worse than everyone else.
At about nine years sober, I started working in the general service structure and I began to see I was a part of something really big -- young and old -- age did not matter. I heard an old-timer
say, "There are no big shots or little shots in AA; one shot and we are all shot." That really leveled the playing field of pride.
I have worked with women who have the same fear of hanging out with their own age group. If they stay sober and work the Steps, then they, too, reach a point of saying, "Yes, I can be around people my own
age and be okay." I am so grateful for patience, love, and tolerance from my sponsor and my posse of AA friends. I am too old to be a young person now, but I feel a lot younger at heart -- does that
qualify me as a "young person in AA?" Probably not, but today, that is okay with me. "One shot and we are all shot" is all I have to remember.
Maryellen O., San Anselmo, California
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