From the August 1981 magazine.

Just Another Drunk

TRADITION TWELVE never meant much to me until I left the security and non-anonymity of my home group. By "non-anonymity," I mean that my home group knew me, all of me; I had nothing hidden from them.

They had taken me in, a nonperson drunk in the final stages of alcoholism and all the despair that goes with it. They had patiently, and sometimes not so patiently, listened to my eternal poor me's and why me's. All I asked for when I first got to AA was pity. I didn't know enough or have sense enough to ask for sobriety. I didn't even have "the only requirement for membership."

-- A. M.

Santa Cruz, California

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