From the December 1966 magazine.

My Name Is Annabelle

An alcoholic's own story

EVEN now, a few years later, I remember the words "cunning, baffling, powerful." Every time I walked into the clubroom, still sick and in a fog, one AA member looked at me and repeated these three words. Nothing made sense to me then; I was going through too much--troubles of all kinds. Why? It was my first year on the program and I needed so desperately never to take another drink, yet it took me so long to become interested and to want what everyone else had--sobriety. Then suddenly I was not just on the program, I was in it. Things began to get better.

I had hit a very low bottom; I could think of nothing but whiskey. I ran to the bottle at any excuse and came to depend entirely on alcohol to solve all things. My troubles and problems were still with me, only worse, and my health was wrecked to the point where I could no longer walk or even talk. I only ate when I was fed through my veins by a doctor. I drank to keep alive, but I was already dead.

-- Annabelle F.

Kewanna, Indiana

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