In January of 1973, I walked through the door of an AA beginners’ meeting at the Calvary Episcopal Church in Manhattan.

I was approached by a friend from my home group a while back about writing an article on getting sober young.

The mental energy required for a teenager to successfully acquire alcohol for a weekend house party or camping trip and arrive safely back home on a Sunday night, convincing parents that it w

When I was 18 a nurse at a mental hospital told me I was an alcoholic.

I never imagined I’d identify as an alcoholic, nor did I consider that one day I would proudly identify as a gay woman. In my mind, individuals of this type had a very specific look.

I’ve been sober since I was 15. When I walked through the doors of AA, I was physically ill, spiritually ignorant and emotionally raw.

The first ICYPAA (International Conference of Young People in AA) and I were both born in 1958, in New York and Chicago respectively.

The silence in the car was palpable. I held my breath. The only thing going through my head was the phrase, “… except when to do so would injure them or others.” This was a big mistake.

So two alcoholics walked out of a bar.

I often wonder if my experience, strength and hope actually touches someone. It’s hard to tell sometimes. But here are a few examples I won’t forget.

Growing up in sobriety has not been easy, and I didn’t find that out until four years ago when I came back to AA.

I found my gift of desperation when my wife decided she’d had enough of my empty apologies. After one too many lines were crossed, I found myself sleeping in the travel trailer.

I’ve been happily sober for well over a decade. Does that mean I’m cured?

Hmm … I’m not always sure.

“I took my new scooter around the park on an overcast, muggy day in July with the temperature in the 80s.

I haven’t had a sponsor since Big Bill passed over a year ago. With 44 years of sobriety, it doesn’t feel as urgent to have a sponsor anymore. But I still get uncomfortable sometimes.

I’ve noticed a common theme in some people’s AA stories lately. They tell this version of things: When I first came to AA, the message I heard was diluted and so I didn’t stay sober.

When I had four months sober to the day, I was voted in as my group’s GSR. A few weeks later, I attended my first Area 03 assembly.

Having been raised as an Irish Catholic, as well as an altar boy and a potential seminarian, I was infused early on with a solid belief in God.

Time and again I hear alcoholics say they grew up in Irish families. Count me in. Another trait that seems common with this demographic, especially in my women’s meetings, is social anxiety.