Experience Had to Be My Teacher

THROUGHOUT some of my days anxiety kindles and burns in the slow fire of long delay of seemingly dormant progress and hot drops of anguish fall steadily on my fretful brain. To me, an alcoholic, this is a deadly warning of grim, stark tragedy. I rise to action, fast. Experience has shown me the need for spiritual exercises, asking help from God, as I understand him, to banish vicious thinking and restore rationalism. I ask and I receive.