August Articles
Bonus Articles
from the Digital Archive
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What's the Big Deal?
A longtimer reflects on his first celebration
As I approached the end of my first year of
sobriety, I mentioned that fact to one of my daughters. She had lived with
me during the four weeks of my outpatient treatment and had seen first-hand
the beginning of my new life. I said I didn’t want to make a big deal
out of it, and she said, “Why not?” I thought for a minute and
then said, “What the hell, why not?” and organized an
anniversary party.
Just a year before, I was completely alone; I had no
friends and barely a job, and I was living a hopeless life. I kept scheming
how I was going to commit suicide, but I couldn’t even organize that.
My daughters stood by me, but at a fearful distance. I was so angry and so
difficult to be around. They were justifiably afraid of me.
That day I made a list of all the people who had
profoundly affected my life during the year, and I came up with thirty.
Included were my daughters; a few long-time friends who didn’t give
up on me, even though I had; the lawyer who bailed me out of jail the
morning after my last drink; a long-time drinking buddy who preceded me
into recovery; some of the powerful influences from my AA groups and
aftercare; and other recovering alcoholics who had generously shared their
lives and feelings. The list didn’t begin to include everyone who had
helped save my life: the cops who picked me up treated me with respect I
didn’t deserve; a wise and understanding judge who let me go to
treatment instead of jail; all those men and women without last names who
patiently sat through my whining and complaining in AA meetings and
after-care sessions.
I mailed out the invites, and all but one showed up.
Thirty people in a one-bedroom apartment on a Minnesota January evening! It
was a joyous celebration, a true celebration of life. There was intense
mutual pride and love with my children.
It was a big deal!
Still, I have mixed emotions about celebrating
sobriety anniversaries. On the one hand, all the days behind us don’t
matter; today is all that counts. A thousand days sober does not guarantee
sobriety today. On the other hand, a day sober, ten days sober, three
hundred days sober are all huge victories for alcoholics. Each day sober
represents what was once totally impossible, so a bunch of them together is
worthy of acknowledgement.
I had been a drinker for twenty years. The skid
downward started with my first drink, and it got worse every day. I lost a
marriage, I lost jobs, I got arrested, and, worst of all, I lost myself.
The details may differ, but my life story is recounted every day in AA
meetings around the world.
The morning after my arrest, I lay on the bunk in the
jail cell: stripped of my belt, my shoelaces, and my dignity, and amongst
overwhelming feelings of self-pity and anger, I heard a voice saying,
“This has to stop!” I didn’t know it then, but that was
the first day of a wonderful new life, and with the grace of God and the
Fellowship of AA, I haven’t had a drink since.
The sober days have rolled by and now number about
10,000. I’ve fulfilled many dreams. I have a wonderful relationship
with my children, and they have blessed my life with ten priceless
grandchildren. They have generously let me be part of their families and
lives. I’ve flown airplanes, I’ve sailed boats, I’ve
traveled to places that were just words on a map for a Minnesota farm boy.
I’ve been blessed with many friends. A wonderful woman loves me as I
am, and she brings new joys to my life.
My wish list for life did not include a heart attack
and cancer. Yet those incidents proved to be valued gifts. While the desire
to drink left long ago, the demon of alcoholism continues to shadow me, and
sometimes I let it get out in front of me. I can be angry, hostile,
self-pitying — I can act as if I’m drunk again. I can wonder
how a good French wine tastes, or an English pub bitters. But, because of
AA, I can be content with just wondering. As of today, I’ve been able
to chase the demon back into the shadows.
I know that all I have, including life itself, is but
a loan to me. It is up to me how I use it. I try to be a worthy borrower.
The biggest gift of all is a sober today.
Some mornings, wisdom rises to the surface, and as I
open my eyes I ask, Do I want to make a big deal out of today? You bet I
do!
Bill S.
Hopkins, Minnesota
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