Journey of Alcoholism- Part 3

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Re-Introducing a solution,
founded in 1935,
with a
93% success rate!

Need It....

Want It....

Ready....

By:
Wendy S.
wjsministry@gmail.com

June 13, 20009

 Want It.....
The morning I woke up in that hotel room I realized there was no escaping this
horrible life I created for myself. No, I couldn't even die. Besides that, I had just
put my husband, family and friends through a horrendous three days not
knowing if I was alive or dead. Their goal was of course, to save me from myself.
My insanity had taken me to that special place, in my mind, where I actually
thought what I was doing was a gift to everyone! I believed it was the last time I
would take up their time, emotions, money and pity due to whatever my
problem was- which I still couldn't quite figure out.

I walked out of the hotel room and as I spotted my car I couldn't believe my eyes.
The front, driver side, quarter panel had large dents in it. Not the normal ones,
like I was hit by another car, but they looked more like grooves. Then I noticed
the rear of the car, the fender had been hit and was pushed in. I had blacked-out
during the three days at the hotel so of course all I could do was guess as to
what happened. I found a piece of paper with a man's name, phone number and
written on it: regarding accident. I thought I would finally get some of my
questions answered when I called him, but that was for another day.

I found the location of the hospital and off I went. I was in a northern city-as
opposed to the small town I grew up in-and for me that was way out of my
league. I remember spending a very long time in the emergency department
then was admitted to a psych ward with a lot of scary people! They all seemed to
be having a good time and from what I heard, their main goal was to have a
warm place to sleep that night. It was the dead of winter and bitterly cold out on
those city streets. Apparently, many had gone through this process before as I
heard them joking with the Dr's and tech's.

I, on the other hand, was resisting all help, in any way, shape or form. First, I was
in a lock down unit which automatically put the obsessive thought in my head
to Get Out! Next, there were alot of men there and the staff stayed behind a
locked door and plexiglas. The first thought in my head was, When someone
decided to hurt me, how would they know? How would they help me? They
were all protected in that locked room! Well, this wasn't going to work so my
mission was to have my husband come and get me. As soon as I called and let
him know about the men around me, he grabbed someone to drive him to the
hospital and was there, pronto. For once his extreme jealousy worked in my
favor. But, he'd already been drinking, which is why someone drove him, but he
was still able to pull off the concerned sane husband act. As I think back, they
were so busy and understaffed, they were probably happy to get rid of as many
of us as they could. And, my husband is one of those guys that didn't have to put
on aires about who or what he did for a living. As soon as you were in his
presence, especially with alcohol in him, you just knew you didn't want to tangle
with him. You know the type; he looked on the outside exactly what he was, on
the inside.

I was sprung at last and slept in my corner, with my bottle, away from everyone,
until my flight north where my wonderful parents would scoop me up and save
me, once again. They made all the arrangements for my admission to a detox
but first they must suffer through another week with me. My husband sobered
up just long enough to drive me to the airport. When we said good-bye, I sensed
something different inside me. A calm feeling came over me but the strange
thing was, it felt like an ending. I remember his last words to me, 'ya know, you
can't always get back in - so be careful and do the right thing.' He, of course, was
talking about the program of sobriety we both once belonged to. I flew out of
the city that day and his life, I never saw my husband again. We spoke once on
the phone regarding the no-fault divorce I filed for but that was it. To this day I
don't know if he ever made it back 'in'.

On the plane, I remember my mind was racing with thoughts of all the horrible
things I thought I did. As a black-out drinker I never really knew for sure but if it
came into my mind, I believed it was for a reason. I ordered a cocktail on the
plane and by the time we touched down, I was drunk. The week waiting for a
bed at detox was a long one for my parents but they already knew me to be at
least manageable, if alcohol wasn't denied me.

I drank right up until I went through the front door. I no longer cared what
would happen in that hospital, I only knew this had to stop. I couldn't put my
family through anymore. I was willing to face my fears because I knew there was
no end in sight to this nitemare. The bottom line was, I was crazy and someone
had to help me!

I wasn't in there long before the recovery classes started. The counselor told us-
we drink to run from our feelings because we are unable to deal with them. I
remember she asked us to write down the feelings we are familiar with on a
sheet a paper. I picked up the pencil and wrote...afraid and mad. That was it, that
was all I could think of and in my world, that's all I knew. Every decision I ever
made was based on the degree of fear it brought me. The choice was never
wether is was a good or bad decision but where it fell on my 'fear scale'. But, I
didn't feel odd only having 2 feelings cause after all how many, so called,
feelings could there be? Imagine my surprise when the counselor handed us a
list of 62 different feelings! Imagine my anguish when she announced we would
be talking about ALL of them and she would teach us how to Deal with them!

Ok, that alone sent me into shut down mode and my insides were screaming to
run, escape, hide! Anything to get away from her and those terrifying feelings.
I started to complain of everything just to get out of going to those groups. But,
they are pretty insistent on their groups in there.

My salvation came disguised as a nurse. One day, as she walked past me, she
pulled a little red book out of her pocket and handed it to me. All she said was,
'read this'. I took the book to my room, slipped into my side table drawer and
didn't think about it for a few days.

The hours dragged on while day after day we looked at, talked about and tried
to comprehend what the counselor was saying regarding these 62 feelings.
From what I was taught, all I had to do was recognize, name and prioritize these
feelings and all my problems would be solved. Apparently, these feelings were
causing me to run and hide and behave like a child. I was told, adults are
supposed know this and they can do this, you see.

While I was doing everything not to become an 'adult' I remembered the book
the nurse gave me. I sat on my bed reached into the drawer and grabbed it.
There was neither writing or picture on the cover to hint of the inside contents. I
randomly opened it and my eyes focused on the print, it was the beginning of a
new chapter. I couldn't believe what I was reading. It was me, it was me the
morning I woke up still alive in that hotel room. The memories, those feelings
came back and flooded my brain. I could feel myself becoming anxious and my
heart was pounding. Here in this little red book, in black and white print, was
me, my life, as I knew it. I read:
 FOR MOST normal folks, drinking means conviviality, companionship
and colorful imagination. It means release from care, boredom and worry. It is
joyous intimacy with friends and a feeling that life is good. But not so with us in those
last days of heavy drinking. The old pleasures were gone. They were but memories.
Never could we recapture the great moments of the past. There was an insistent
yearning to enjoy life as we once did and a heartbreaking obsession that some new
miracle of control would enable us to do it. There was always one more attempt- and
one more failure.
The less people tolerated us, the more we withdrew from society, from life
itself. As we became subjects of King Alcohol, shivering denizens of his mad realm,
the chilling vapor that is loneliness settled down. It thickened, ever becoming
blacker. Some of us sought out sordid places, hoping to find understanding
companionship and approval. Momentarily we did-then would come oblivion and
the awful awakening to face the hideous Four Horseman- Terror, Bewilderment,
Frustration, Despair. Unhappy drinkers who read this page will understand!

What was I reading? That was me! The Horsemen! I saw them, felt them- I awoke
to them having a party in my hotel room!!

I turned to the inside front cover and there I read the name of this book: The
Anonymous Press Mini-Edition of Alcoholic Anonymous. My God, I wasn't crazy! I
was simply an ALCOHLIC!! How relieved I was at that moment. Of course, it all
made sense. I was an adult, I wasn't mentally challenged, I was not hopeless or
helpless, I did not have a brain tumor (all of which I came up with for reasons
why I did such crazy, stupid things).

As I read more of this little book it said, I had to be returned to sanity. My

alcoholism was the symptom of an underlying problem. The book said I needed
a "Power greater than myself" to cure me of this illness because, they said, "no
human power could". That is what this little book is about, I read- "How and
where to find this Power."
Evidently, the people who wrote this book found a cure and were now sharing
how they did it. But, if I needed a Power greater than myself, what about the
counselor? The book said the way I look at life and situations are all messed up. I
cannot, at this time, trust my own judgement. Is the counselor that Power? I just
needed to learn how to feel correctly or deal with my feelings, correctly??
Now I was confused. The book is talking about a Higher Power and the
counselor is saying, I can do this...... What do I do now??? I was getting more and
more confused.

When I left the hospital I started to go to meetings, cause that is where

alcoholics go. The people in the rooms welcomed me with open arms and told
me, "just don't drink and go to meetings." Well, I did just that. I didn't want to
talk about anything anyway. I continued to do the exercises the counselor gave
us focused on feelings and dealing with them appropriately. The higher power, I
was told, could be whatever I believed it to be. That it didn't matter. The group,
the water, another person, heck even a bowling ball! (Really! Someone actually
told me that!)

I chose water, or more specifically the ocean. I grew up on an island and to be on

or around the water, is like a tranquilizer to me. I did some of my best decision
making out on a relative's boat, in the middle of the ocean, growing up.

So now, whenever an issue would come up; I would run to the water front, sit
and ponder the solution. Great system I had going on there. It helped that I was
still seeing the counselor and going to the group meetings. The counselor was
only once a week, she cost money, but the group meetings were daily- actually
multiple daily. They were a great place to vent all of my feelings, which now
numbered about 26 out of the possible 62 I learned about in the hospital.

I followed the suggestions of the counselor along with trying to apply the
suggestions of the meeting rooms. By this time, my detoxed alcoholic brain was
swimming in information. As if that wasn't enough to keep me busy, I was
reading every self-help book I could get my hands on. My bedside table was full
of recovery books, medical books and numerous others.

The months rolled by and I was not very happy however, I blew that feeling off
cause I was told a recovering alcoholic can expect to be irritable and discontent
while trying to maintain sobriety. I was also told it was dangerous to be hungry,
angry, lonely or tired so- I tried to avoid any of those conditions.

Just about this time, I over heard two women talking, while waiting for a
meeting to begin. She summed up my feelings in one sentence; she stated to
her friend, "ya know, I've been coming to these meetings every day for three
years now- When is IT going to start??" That really hit me- THREE YEARS?? I only
had a few months and I was also waiting to Get It and hoping IT would Start very
soon. But now I hear, three years!

But, at least I wasn't alone in this dilemma - Which is the great thing about those
meetings. I found I was never the only one with certain thoughts or feelings and
I wasn't defective or strange. They were the thoughts and feelings of an
alcoholic or one with the addiction illness. Of course now it was compounded
by the overwhelming amount of new information I had, courtesy of my many
books.

I was caught in the maze of recovery solutions. Everyday I would head to my

"higher power" (the water front) with recovery books and my "feelings list" in
hand and try to figure it all out. I was calling my new sponsor (from the meeting
rooms) to ask, what is going on here?? What is this all about? I was told, just
don't drink and go to meetings. The 12 steps were to be done when I was
"'ready" and would take 12 months as I was told to do one a month. I found out
this method had a 1 in 10 success rate among those who followed it. So, the
odds sure were not with me!

Confused and filled with anxiety I couldn't come up with an answer. I was on the
verge of running back to the bottle when I had an idea. Acting on this intuition I
started to do research of my own. I re-read the little book the nurse gave me
and it suddenly became very clear what I should do... I was finally READY to take
action or the only other alternative was just to get drunk and stay drunk this
time. I'd just be one of the living dead.

What I found out was nothing short of a miracle. I read many (thousands) had
found long-term sobriety and enjoyed a peaceful and joyous life. I also read that
the fact is this and nothing less, if I thoroughly followed the path they did, I
could and would have the same result. They boasted 93% Successfully
recovered, never to drink again! Why hadn't I heard of this? Who changed the
directions to and on the path and when? Didn't anyone notice, I wondered?

This is the information I bring to you now. If you are caught in the maze of
recovery, like I was, trust me...You want this information. I believe it's not that we
didn't need or want recovery or even that some of us weren't ready; but we
weren't given the truth. The true path to follow, THOROUGHLY !
If you are alcoholic- If people say you're the "nicest person they know EXCEPT
when actively using", I would like you to know the solution THEY really found. It
was originally founded and tried by 100 men and women who were hopelessly
addicted. They began New Lives of Peace & Joy which they never knew existed.
They told thousands of others and it worked for them, too. It worked for me and
God willing, it will work for you.

If you are interested in the solution or would like to comment on any of the
three parts of Journey, please send me an e-mail at:

wjsministry@gmail.com

THANKS for taking the time to read my story and God Bless you!