Am I Overdoing the AA Bit?

IT SEEMS incredible to me that seven years ago today I was a drinking alcoholic, alienated from my family, subsequently to be divorced from my wife, on the brink of professional annihilation, and under the care of a psychiatrist. I was a physical junk heap, an emotional mess, and a victim of spiritual famine. As a drunk, I thought the hell in which I was living was due retribution for twenty years of increasingly destructive drinking, for a sustained, intolerable relationship with an alcoholic wife, and for the ways in which I had thrown down the drain what slim talents I had. At thirty-seven, drinking had become my profession and my hobby.