My Higher Power

AFTER coming into Alcoholics Anonymous, the hardest thing for me to understand and accept was the insistence of the old-timers that you needed to find a Higher Power if you wanted to achieve long-time sobriety.  Even as a fool of long-standing, I knew this was a creative code for believing in God and was one step further than I was willing to go. So, job done - it was time to ignore anything else said in the meeting!! It was all nonsense, so no attention needed, no action to be taken - ever! This attitude kept me from staying in the Rooms long enough to get any continuous sober time; “…contempt prior to investigation.” (BB p.568) was how I lived my life. 

There was a vague feeling that things were not working, as the Rooms became the only option one more time. Luckily the fear of returning to drinking kept me coming back to the Rooms. This time around, I tried quietly listening to what was repeated for what seemed like days but was just 1½ hours, a few evenings a week. Alcoholics Anonymous and recovery was only ever a backstop, the place you went when the consequences of your addiction got so intense that you need to convince yourself it would be possible to stop. Often this was inspired after getting sick and tired of making mistakes and to get your loved ones back in the house, and onside. My life was unmanageable alone. Someone had to take responsibility for me. As a big, violent baby, it was never time for me to act like a grown-up. The whole process only started to change my views, and that never worked. Meetings and the Steps always convinced me that there was no problem I could not solve alone, especially drinking and its consequences.  As a new arrival, I followed a pattern formed over time. Shakes and fear in the beginning then promises and acceptance that change was inevitable and preferable to carrying on drinking, for however long.  Then after a few sober days, clean clothes, a bath and few near misses regarding drinking, a few parties attended without a stumble, a couple of visits to my local bar and then things started to change. My usual certainty would return and Skipper Steve would head out for some further research. This time my genius, combined with the truth of Alcoholics Anonymous, would keep me safe. There was no need for meetings or the Fellowship, and even the literature only needed to be carried around as osmosis was going to keep me sober.

Finally, after I had been beaten up a bit more, it dawned on me that it was not the wrong year or the wrong job with the wrong woman, it was not circumstances, town or friends. As they say in the Rooms, it was not people, places or things. It was me, pure and simple! My behaviour had brought me to this new low, it had not been bad luck. AA, this time around, was my last chance. It became apparent in that moment of clarity that it needed me to change and it had to be now. As usual, with a return to the Rooms, it amazes me how smart and measured the behaviour of the members is. How I feel looking for the cars in the car park and how much the words, both in the Big Book and the shares, replicated my life and experience. Sowing carrots to get a sponsor quickly, I'm ready to recover; I set out to do the Steps.
At Step One, there was no hesitation; it was hard to believe that my life was at all manageable. Alcohol had lost its fun aspect way before it got me back in AA. The box for Step Two was ticked; I would need something with more power than me to get me sober. With Step Three, the problem was God. Convinced that ‘faking it to make it’ would push that door open, I was willing to pretend spiritual progress but deep down inside that core of disbelief, the arrogant me was waiting to erupt. I so wanted to get sober but was not expecting the best outcome; after all, it was not a Programme without spirituality!!  God was a big deal and I did not have the faith. This was not going to be possible.

Thinking about this on the way to work a few months into sobriety, I noticed a magpie standing by the side of the road. The lyrics of a song came into my mind, "One for sorrow…", and thought a bad day would now follow. I started to look for the second magpie, “…two for joy", that would guarantee a better day. It struck me that by believing that a song could change my day, I believed in the power of magpies along with any number of other superstitious habits, including reading horoscopes and avoiding black cats. This proved that I could accept a Higher Power without too much effort or brainpower on my part. I accepted that my Higher Power had always been an option and showed me that I was willing to believe in a God that could help me.

SKIPPER STEVE