Putting me back together again

When I came into the rooms, I could have been a 12-Step poster child. There wasn’t a room I didn’t belong in. My dad was in AA, so my first foray into anonymous waters was a dip into ACOA (Adult Children of Alcoholics) when I was in college. In those days (1986), it was a maelstrom of messed-up kids from messed-up homes. Walking into the meeting every Wednesday night was like entering a Mecca for resentment. I never worked the Steps or got a sponsor. All I recall is wanting to hook up with the sickest guy in the room, a pattern of behavior that took years of recovery to undo.