A Hole in the Heart

The word alcoholic not only described my drinking, it was like the small yet apparent tip of an iceberg signaling that just below the surface lay vast amounts of mental, emotional, and spiritual disorders. The Twelve Steps had faithfully charted my safe exploration of these peculiarities, so with just a willingness to follow I'd already discovered a great deal of truth about myself. Many of the differences revealed to me over the past ten years were in the categories of exaggerated emotion, a diminished interest, or an inappropriate desire; and though often unpleasant they were easily shared with my fellows and neatly handled by the program. One flaw, however, had been particularly troublesome. With all the healing and reformation the program spilled upon me, I'd basically become an honest, responsible, and well-liked recovering alcoholic--but essentially void of any love as I understood it. This vacancy, this absolute emptiness in the midst of our loving Fellowship, seemed alien and wrong. This defect I could not share.