The disease of alcoholism and addiction shows up in our lives in the form of a voice in our heads.  That voice is like a channel of discouragement that is hard to totally eliminate. The addictive voice doesn’t have to make any sense to be effective. Because it has been there so long, and because its messages are so consistently depressing, we come to accept it, just because it wears us down.

When I am facilitating Family Program sessions I often ask participants to think of a family affected by addiction like a mobile floating over a child’s crib. When you imagine a mobile, there are a few things that instantly come to mind.  You’ll see a bunny, bear, frog, and bird: rotating around and helping the mobile to maintain balance.  There’s often quiet music playing in the background.  

The Presidential campaign this year may appear to be uniquely trashy. It isn’t that unusual, set against the full sweep of American history. The 1884 campaign of  the Democratic President Grover Cleveland against the Republican James G. Blaine was trashier. Blaine was accused of profiting from sales of railroad bonds and Cleveland was accused of fathering a child out of wedlock. Crowds at campaign rallies shouted down each candidate: “Blaine, Blaine, James G. Blaine, the continental liar from the State of Maine” and “Ma, Ma, where’s my Pa? Gone to the White House, ha! Ha! Ha!” Ugly politics is nothing new.

The Big Book, 12 x 12, sponsors, meetings and the working history of AA used as a template — it had come to seem repetitive and endless to me.

It’s a gray and rainy day, and I’m sitting in a room with a group of people who never wanted to gain entry into the retreat we’re hosting.  They desperately tried everything in their power to never be here.  They formulated plans, they had talks, they paid good money, they supported, they begged, they pleaded, they researched, and they loved with all they had.  And, yet, here they are: the folks who have lost a loved one to the disease of addiction.

You might remember the famous “Last Lecture” given a few years ago.  Well, this is my last blog and so I am going to share with you three of the most important realizations I have been blessed with in my years as a twelve-stepper.  My recovery date is May 1, 1979 and so I consider myself a mere beginner in The Climb, but here is my humble offering. 

My sobriety date is July 4, 1989. I planned it that way. It became clear that I needed to get sober, but I was taking a lot of drug as well as drinking a lot, and detox was difficult, at age 40. I chose to detox myself, gradually, over a period of six weeks. The timing worked out to July third, but I stretched it a bit, because I thought that the Fourth of July, Independence Day, would make a better sobriety anniversary.

So there I was, preparing to present to my home group, praying that I might learn something new, at least for me, in the very preparation.  You would think I would have learned by now to be careful what I pray for – how often have I gotten it!  Yes, the Divine struck yet again and here is what I learned: