A Maze of Half-measures

Two and a half years ago when I came to AA, I was a professed believer. I had tried everything I ever heard of at least once. I tried booze, drugs, relationships, the Peace Corps, working lots of overtime, being the good kid, and being the rebel. I said the rosary, went to Mass, didn't go to Mass. I read the Bible, the Vita, the Vedas, and even John Barth. I wore a metaphorical hair shirt, cast myself as a hippie, got thrown out of the worst factory bars in Detroit, and dined with duchesses and ambassadors in Africa. I flew into New York with only eight dollars in my pocket, into Spain broke, into conversation with whoever would listen, and eventually, into the darkest part of myself that I could bear.