I want the hand of AA always to be there and for that I am
responsible.
Alcoholism is such a devastating disease. It rips away any self worth, belonging, peace of mind, family, friends, ambition and hope. These are only a few of the many things that are usually taken, along with any shred of sanity left behind. There is no cure for alcoholism. But this does not mean that all is lost, there is still hope for those who want it badly enough. Hope for a future, for family, friends and all that was shoved away by this disease. In the end you may not get what you thought you wanted back, but you will definitely get what you need.

As I grow in sobriety, I see that when I first came through the doors of AA, I wanted my life back, just without all of the hangovers. What I have now is far superior that what I could have ever imagined. The reason for this is that I was willing (not always able) to try to change my life to a new and often times frightening new life. A life similar to those who do not suffer from a disease that stops you in your tracks. A life with "life skills", education, opportunities and many chances. I have been fortunate to have a family who has supported me(for the most part), to have a forgiving and loving husband, compassionate parents and chance after chance to try to get "on my feet again." Somehow, I always did. The hand of AA was always there when I reached for it. A friend would show up or phone in a moment of personal desperation, God would show up and pick me up again or slow me down again when I was going too fast. Someone was always there to help, even when I didn't think I needed help (or wanted it).

In the past week when someone in the program passed away due in part to the disease I have been asking myself, why me? Why me and not others who suffer? Is it all luck? Opportunity? Willpower? Inner strength? A stronger "higher power"? Greater faith?

All I can do today is be thankful that I have made it this far, that I haven't had to pick up a drink, and be grateful for yet another day of sobriety, again.

Love, Barbara