Will or Will Not
IN NOVEMBER of 1977, after five years in the AA program and two previous hospitalizations for treatment of my disease, I prepared to enter my third alcoholic treatment center. I hadn't had a drink in those five years, but I was miserable, lonely, resentful, and frightened to death of what seemed to lie ahead. I was estranged from my family, at great odds with the people I worked with, and at cross purposes with the world. The fear of suicide was part of my state of mind. It looked to me as if this center was to be a last resort for one of those "constitutionally incapable of being honest with themselves."
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