A Long Climb to Compassion

When I first sought help from Alcoholics Anonymous, a voice on the phone had been enough to convince me that I was home at last. As soon as I set my foot inside the door of my first meeting, I was even more sure. The trouble was, I expected my family to instantly realize this miracle and add to my joy. I plied my husband with AA principles, poured AA gossip into his ears, bedeviled him with slogans, and generally assaulted him with a whole new vocabulary. I soaked him in the atmosphere of my pink cloud and fought for his attention to my newest need. In the first few months of my sobriety, I managed to rediscover my own good will and made a good start on trying to impose it on my family under the guise of working the AA program.