When Disclosure Is Right and Good


IN APRIL of 1971, I hit bottom. Added to the knowledge that I couldn't (still can't) drink, came the realization that by and of myself I couldn't quit. Fortunately, I knew where a local group of Alcoholics Anonymous held its meetings. One Tuesday evening found me walking in and saying to two men, "I think I'm an alcoholic." Before the meeting ended, I knew that I was (as I still am) an alcoholic and that these people had and would share a way of life designed to free me from having to drink. Since then, except when I'm out of town, Tuesday evenings are reserved for AA.

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Des Moines, Washington