Author: Jim C.

Jim C. Is a AA sobriety author and writer of recovery stories, and lessons learned chronologically in over 50 years of his recovery in Alcoholics Anonymous.

I Can Stop Drinking

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I Can Stop Drinking Whenever I Want

Glass of Scotch on a bar beside a lit cigarette in an ashtray“I can stop drinking whenever I want” was probably the biggest lie I ever told myself. I now recognize that phrase as a self-perpetuating excuse not to stop—an illusion of control over something I clearly wasn’t controlling.

Going on the Wagon

During my drinking years, I would stop or “go on the wagon” for short periods. Sometimes I abstained Monday through Friday, then felt entitled to tie one on Friday night because I had been “good” all week. Of course, the drinking continued through Saturday and sometimes into Sunday as I tapered off for the workweek ahead. On Monday, the cycle began again.

My obsessive behavior wasn’t constant thinking about drinking—that would have pointed to a problem with booze. Instead, my only thought Monday through Friday was the weekend and partying.

But in reality, it was always about drinking.

At other times, I’d stop for two or three months, usually when things became too chaotic. I wanted a fresh start. New Year’s seemed like the perfect time to quit drinking and smoking and start a diet—all through willpower, or so I thought. One year, I made it three full months without a drink. I quit smoking, exercised, went to the gym, ran, and lost weight.

Looking back, I can see the flaw. I still spent time with the same crowd and followed the same routines because that life was familiar.

Three Months Later

I can still picture myself in a bar on a Friday night, sitting on a barstool drinking a Coke.

Then the thought came: I can handle it. It’s just one drink!

I ordered a drink, then a second, then bought a pack of cigarettes. I was off to the races again.

Now I really felt in control. Three months without a drink—surely I had what it took to stop anytime I wanted.

The truth was simpler: I did not want to stop. I missed my crazy old life.

That’s the insanity of going back to the drink.

At first, I didn’t get into trouble, but I quickly fell back into my old habits—drinking, smoking, and gaining weight. I returned to my old haunts. This time, though, it was harder. I tried to fight the weight gain by working out, running, and going to the Y, but drinking made it nearly impossible to maintain any balance.

From time to time, the realization would pop into my head that maybe I should stop drinking again. By then, I knew cutting down didn’t work.

Tomorrow Never Comes

When I drank, my whole life centered around the bars, the music, and the girls. I couldn’t visualize life without drinking.

But that’s the insanity. Things were never that great.

That little lie would pop up again: I can stop anytime I want. Maybe I’d have one more blast and stop tomorrow.

The sad reality is that tomorrow never comes. It’s just an excuse to postpone stopping.

I know that now, but I couldn’t connect the dots back then. I was deceiving myself into believing I was in control and calling the shots.

The truth was, I wasn’t handling life, relationships, finances, health, or my sanity. My life was an absolute lie.

The reality was that I was out of control.

It was never really about whether I could stop drinking whenever I wanted. It was always about drinking without limits.

One Day at a Time

It wasn’t until I came to AA that I heard it shared: if I don’t pick up the first drink today, I can’t get drunk.

That made sense, even to my fuzzy way of thinking when I arrived in AA.

I only had to keep my focus on not picking up a drink today.

What a concept.

In one 24-hour period, there was enough power to change the course of my life. It doesn’t mean it would be easy, but there was real strength in keeping my focus on today.

These days can add up if I commit myself to living the AA program of recovery, working the Twelve Steps, and keeping my focus on the present—this day only.

It works, and it is still working in my life.

I am forever grateful to AA, the simplicity of the 24-hour program, the fellowship, and my Higher Power for freeing me from the self-serving lie that I could stop drinking anytime I wanted.

Speaker Meetings I Came to Believe

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Speaker Meetings – I Came to Believe

I Came to AA to Stop Drinking

AA Speaker MeetingsAs a committed non-believer, when I drank, my life was devoid of peace of mind until I came to AA. I was a know-it-all. I never came to AA to find God; I came to see if there was a solution to my drinking problem. The best thing that came out of my last drunk was that I stopped cold turkey and wanted to stop.

When I finally attended my first AA meeting in a foggy state of mind, the good thing was that I had no preconceived ideas about what AA was all about. If it was about learning how to stop drinking, I was okay with that, but I wanted to learn how to stop and stay stopped. Stopping was the easy part; staying stopped was where I had difficulty.

My first meeting was a beginner’s meeting before the main Step meeting. A young man briefly qualified and shared, and I identified with what he had to say. That intrigued me, and I went downstairs into the Step meeting to learn more. However, that night they were discussing the Ninth Step, which was way over my head. Still, I was told to keep coming back.

Someone handed me a list of meetings, and I started scheduling them one day at a time. In AA, there were different kinds of meetings, and discovering them became an adventure that kept me coming back. There were discussion meetings, open meetings, closed meetings, First Step meetings, and AA speaker meetings. They were all good, but the speaker meetings grabbed my attention. These were the miracles of recovery.

A Speaker Meeting I Will Never Forget

One of my first speaker meetings is something I will never forget. The meeting was held on a Sunday afternoon in August. It was in a hot, smoky church basement. It had to be 96 degrees that day, and the basement was not air-conditioned. The large room was more of an auditorium, filled with over 150 people attending an open speaker meeting. All the seats were taken, and people were standing along the side aisles and in the back. It was an impressive crowd crammed together in a very warm church basement. Many were dressed in their Sunday best.

In the back of the room were two massive urns of coffee and some cake. I thought it was odd that they would serve hot coffee on such a hot day, but then again, coffee seemed to go hand in hand with cigarette smoking.

The meeting opened the same way as others I had attended. We began with the Serenity Prayer. Someone read “How It Works,” another person read the “Twelve Traditions,” announcements were made, and then the speaker was introduced. The format was typical of an AA speaker meeting. As taken from “How It Works”, the speaker would share what it was like, what happened, and what it is like now.

The Speaker Began to Share

The speaker walked to the podium, shared a little humor, and began his story. The room was sweltering. The only relief came from four large fans positioned in the corners of the auditorium. A few side doors were open, but there was no breeze that day, and the noise from a busy street did not help the acoustics.

People fanned themselves or wiped sweat from their brows with handkerchiefs. Yet everyone was focused on the speaker. They were glued to every word. Those in the middle and back of the room strained to hear over the roar of the fans. I enjoyed the share. It was both humorous and poignant.

Then, shortly into his talk, they started turning off the fans. One by one, they were shut down. I thought this was insanity. These people are nuts, I told myself. Do they know how hot it is in here?  Then it dawned on me. They wanted to hear every word the speaker was sharing. I was impressed. I have never forgotten that day, and throughout my early sobriety I made speaker meetings regularly. They inspired hope.

Humpty Dumpty Stories

Back in the 1970s, many of the old-timers were still around. Many were low-bottom drunks. Their stories were awe-inspiring and miraculous. Their hope-filled shares were a testimony to the grace of a loving God and AA. If they could get sober, there was a possibility that I could too.

Over the years, I started calling speaker meetings “Humpty Dumpty stories.”

“Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall;

All the king’s horses and all the king’s men

Couldn’t put Humpty together again.”

How could a person be broken down so completely and beaten by alcohol, yet start life anew and find that the new life was more rewarding than the old one?  By the grace of a loving God, who is my Higher Power, I found that in AA, Humpty Dumpty could be put back together better than ever.

Speaker meetings have played an important role in AA since its early days. Now, with more than 50 years of continuous sobriety, I can see how important they were in the foundation of my own sobriety. 

For me, the healing began with listening and then identifying. After all, I was just following the old AA advice: “Take the cotton out of your ears and put it in your mouth.”

It was then that my own AA miracle began.

Don’t Project

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Don’t Project

Learning What “Don’t Project” Means

One of the earliest suggestions I heard in AA—probably during my first 90 days—was, “Don’t project.” At first, the idea was beyond my pay grade; I had no idea what people meant by this. But I heard the phrase often enough in meetings that I began to pay attention. I was no longer drinking, yet my thinking was still far from clear.

Living in the “What Ifs”

My thoughts were often consumed by anxiety and fear about the future. I eventually came to recognize this pattern as the “what ifs.” Newly sober, I repeatedly imagined tomorrow’s problems before they occurred—even though many of those scenarios were unlikely ever to happen.

Those thoughts robbed me of the serenity I had only recently discovered. The events were imaginary, but the pain they caused was real. Left unchecked, projection could easily threaten my new way of life.

A Lesson from the Fellowship

In AA, I found comfort in knowing that others had faced the same struggle. I once heard projection described as “living in the wreckage of the future.” That definition stayed with me.

No one needs to suffer through imagined disasters alone. I am grateful that I was attending meetings, sharing honestly, and learning to rely on my Higher Power.

Meetings Help

What I value most about AA is the meetings and fellowship. When I share a problem, I often hear from someone who has faced something similar. They may explain how they handled it, what happened, and how the outcome differed from what they had feared.

These conversations taught me that projection is often a massive waste of time. It is not grounded in the AA practice of living one day at a time. Still, recovery was new to me, and this way of thinking did not come naturally. As an alcoholic, I often narrowed my choices and mentally painted myself into a corner.

The Committee in My Head

At meetings and over coffee, alcoholics like me often talk about the “committee” in our heads. To me, it resembles the cartoon image of an angel on one shoulder and a devil with a pitchfork on the other.

The struggle is real: we devise strategies and contingency plans for events that may never materialize, and more often than not, the collateral damage is wrong choices and bad decisions.

Alcohol once muted those mental arguments—or at least distracted me from them. For a short time, drinking quieted my mind and nerves. But the relief never lasted, and the cycle only deepened.

Choosing One Day at a Time

Life can feel like a game show: Is the prize behind door one, two, or three? In AA, I discovered that my Higher Power does not limit the possible outcomes. My responsibility is simpler:

  • Do not drink.
  • Live the Twelve Steps of recovery.
  • Try to improve my life one day at a time.

When I practice these principles, outcomes change. Old behaviors and familiar patterns of thinking gradually give way to healthier ways of living. In that change, I have found a new freedom—one I call serenity.

Sober Firsts

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Sober Firsts

Sobriety brings a renewed sense of life. During the first year of recovery, each day presents unfamiliar situations and experiences—many faced sober for the first time.  There are a lot of “sober first times.”

Some first sober experiences are awkward or uncomfortable; others are joyful and exciting. Still others stir up fear, anxiety, or emotions we once managed by drinking. Although these experiences vary with each person’s age, background, family, work, and life history, they can be unsettling. Over time, I came to see them as opportunities to grow and to learn how to live life on life’s terms.

I had one advantage when I came into AA at a young age. I had no broken marriages, no divorces, and very limited employment history. But that same naivety was also a double-edged sword. I hadn’t yet experienced many of life’s ups and downs, and I had no clue how to deal with what life would eventually put in front of me. My lack of experience was a handicap.

When I drank, alcohol helped me deal with many of those uncomfortable feelings. Fear and anxiety were muted or diminished. Alcohol had literally become my higher power for dealing with life. But drinking was no longer an option. So I had to learn another way.

Learning to Face Life Sober

For most alcoholics, there are situations that can foster fear and anxiety. For me, some involved social anxiety, dating, speaking in public, shyness, employment, and everyday interactions with other people—things I had once used alcohol to soften.

Then there were the ordinary difficulties of everyday living.

There were differences of opinion on the job. There were raw nerves that had once been covered up by alcohol. Resentments and fears could surface, and sometimes my emotions would explode, leaving those around me unable to figure out what the issue was.

I had to learn that not everything was going to be my way—and that was okay. I also had to learn that it was okay to make mistakes. It was okay to be wrong. In fact, being wrong could teach me something if I was willing to learn from it. One of the things I began to understand was that the events of one day did not have to become cumulative. A bad day didn’t have to ruin tomorrow.

With the AA program of recovery, I was learning to deal with life as it occurred. One day at a time.

Meetings Were Only Part of the Answer

In my early recovery, I immersed myself in AA meetings. AA was a safe place for me, and meetings were perfect for helping me stay away from that first drink. But eventually I realized that meetings weren’t where most of my problems were occurring. Life was happening outside the meeting rooms.

Many situations that made me uncomfortable arose at work, at home, in relationships, and in everyday interactions. They could set me off, and I once believed I needed a few drinks to face them. Sobriety meant learning to handle them without alcohol—an entirely new experience.

My First Sober Holidays

Holidays were a particularly big collection of sober firsts.  For me, the Christmas season seemed to begin with Thanksgiving and slowly creep its way toward Christmas Eve and New Year’s. The holidays were tough times. They were heavy with sentimentality, estrangement from family and loved ones, loneliness, isolation, and pain.

But something happened after I lived through that first set of holidays sober. They weren’t quite as frightening anymore. I discovered that they were just days. They had been boogeymen in my mind, but I had faced them sober and lived through them. In early sobriety, however, they were the real deal.

This was where meetings and fellowship became especially important. In AA, I soon realized I wasn’t the only person dealing with uncomfortable feelings and emotions during the holidays. Other people understood. They reached out. They shared their experience. They offered mutual aid and comfort.

At the time, many AA groups held round-the-clock holiday marathon meetings with food, refreshments, speakers, and discussions. As a newcomer, they were exactly what I needed. I also remember attending my first AA New Year’s party, complete with a band, music, and dancing. I learned that I could celebrate New Year’s without drinking—and that was another sober first.

A Year of Sober Firsts

Learning to live one day at a time during that first year of recovery was a game changer for me. We don’t have to figure out how we’re going to stay sober for the rest of our lives. We only have to deal with today. And today can bring almost anything.

We deal with situations on the job and interactions with other people. We experience the joy of births and weddings. We experience sickness and the loss of loved ones. There are celebrations, disappointments, gains, and losses.

In my first year of sobriety, I lived a day at a time; there were four seasons. There were birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, and ordinary Tuesdays. There were days when everything seemed to be going our way, and days when nothing seemed to go our way.

Living sober doesn’t allow us to avoid the full array of emotional highs and lows that come with being alive. Instead, we learn to go through them. And every time we do, something happens: we have another sober experience.

We learn that we can face hardship without drinking, that discomfort eventually passes, that disagreement need not become a crisis, and that disappointment does not have to send us to a bar.

Little by little, these experiences become the bedrock of recovery. At the end of each new sober day, there can be a profound gratitude to AA and to our Higher Power for the grace to muddle through it without a drink. Then tomorrow comes. And tomorrow brings another first.

Fifty Years Later

I came into AA more than fifty years ago, and I am still learning. The situations have changed. Life has changed. I have changed. But the principle hasn’t changed.

There is still a fresh newness to recovery because life itself is constantly changing. Even after more than 50 years of sobriety, I still encounter situations I have never faced before. At 72, there are things I am dealing with today that I had never dealt with at 21—or at 50 or 60.

In recovery, we adapt to new circumstances and face new situations. We experience new joys and new disappointments. We continue to learn how to live life on life’s terms.

Looking back, I can see that those early sober firsts were much more important than I realized at the time. I thought I was simply trying to get through another day without a drink. But I was actually learning how to live.

And that hasn’t stopped. Each day brings something to learn. Some lessons are worth remembering; others are worth remembering so we don’t have to learn them twice.

AA didn’t give me a perfect life. It gave me a way to live the life I have without needing alcohol to deal with it.  I thought someday I’d have this all figured out. I don’t. Life keeps changing. I’m still having sober firsts. We don’t know what tomorrow will bring. We don’t have to. We can face it when it gets here. It may be another sober first. And that’s okay.

I’ve been doing that for more than fifty years now—one day at a time.

Telephone Therapy in AA

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Telephone Therapy in AA

Meeting Lists and Telephone Numbers

Telephone Therapy in AAWhen I was just starting out in AA and making meetings, there was a printed meeting list with all the local meetings. On the back was usually a blank page for phone numbers. Those pamphlets also had space to jot down notes. I found them priceless.

Phones and those lists of names became a very important part of my sobriety. For many of us, they were a literal lifeline. To this day, you can still find these meeting lists at many meetings, and they are often passed around so a newcomer can gather phone numbers and stay in touch with others.

The lists would typically have men’s numbers for men and women’s numbers for women. It is good to know that some things in AA do not change.

Regular contact with sponsors, sponsees, and others in the fellowship has always been an important part of recovery for me. Isolation can be dangerous territory. Looking back, many of the times I struggled the most were when I became disconnected from other alcoholics.

Staying Connected Without Today’s Technology

Back when I first got sober, I had much more contact with sponsors and other members through the telephone. There was no internet, and cell phones and answering machines were not yet in common use during the 1970s. Pagers did not even exist.

Usually, you needed a phone at home or a few dimes in your pocket, and you had to be lucky enough to find an empty phone booth that was actually working.

In retrospect, I probably had more direct contact with sponsors, mentors, and other members of the fellowship than I do today. Conversations could be about anything—sobriety, life, advice, or simply what meeting we planned to attend that evening.

I carried those meeting lists and phone numbers everywhere. They were my connection to sobriety. I never left home without one, and I always had a pen handy to add new names and numbers.

What I find interesting today is that nearly everyone carries a cellphone. Most have maps, voicemail, internet access, contact lists, and text messaging. If I am driving, I can simply say, “Hey Google, call my sponsor Joe,” and the phone does the rest. A map can even guide me directly to a meeting.

Yet I sometimes wonder why so many people seem reluctant to use these tools to stay connected. Staying in touch is certainly easier than it was years ago. My contact list is full of fellowship numbers, and I still reach out often.

Many people ask for my number, but few ever call. When I have talked with other members about this, I have found that I am not alone in that experience.

One Alcoholic Reaching Out to Another

That is unfortunate, because a simple phone call has helped me more times than I can count. Sometimes it has saved my sanity, sometimes it has changed my outlook, and sometimes it has simply reminded me that I am not alone.

When people return to AA after drinking again, I sometimes find myself wondering whether they reached out before they picked up that first drink. Did they call their sponsor? Did they talk to another alcoholic? Did they join an online meeting? Did they look up a meeting nearby?

I know there were many times when I did not have a dime in my pocket to make a call from a pay phone, or when nobody answered the phone when I called. Even then, I usually found a way to get to a meeting and talk with someone.

I wanted what sobriety offered, and I learned that staying connected was a big part of keeping it.

The old-timers used to call it “telephone therapy.” The technology has changed dramatically since then, but the principle and priorities remain the same. One alcoholic reaching out to another is still one of the most valuable tools we have.

The Serenity Prayer

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The Serenity Prayer

Learning to Live Without Alcohol

AA Praying HandsIn early sobriety, every nerve seemed raw and exposed. Since I was no longer drinking, my usual defense against life was gone. Alcohol had always been my solution, and now I had to face life without it.

I was usually okay at meetings. Meetings were a safe place, and so was time spent with my sponsor and other members of AA. Whenever I was close to the program, I felt reassured. It was the other twenty-three hours of the day that were difficult. Life on life’s terms often felt overwhelming.

In those early days, my mind never seemed to stop. Without alcohol to distract me, the thoughts kept coming: What should I do? What should I say? What if this happens? Fear, anger, anxiety, guilt, loneliness, uncertainty, and sometimes even excitement would hit me all at once. Some days I didn’t even know what I was feeling; I only knew I was uncomfortable. My old solution had been to drink. Now I needed a new one.

As I stayed sober, I began to realize that things were going to be different. Sobriety is an inside job. The world was not going to change to suit me. I could not change my past, other people, or many of life’s circumstances. They were what they were. The only thing I could change was my attitude and the way I responded.

I Had To Learn

I had to learn to accept life on life’s terms. When things did not go my way, I needed acceptance instead of resentment and self-pity. The old routine of “poor me, poor me, pour me a drink” was no longer an option.

At the same time, I learned that sobriety was not passive. It was more than just not drinking and attending meetings. It required action. I needed the courage to change the things I could. That courage was often nothing more than doing the next right thing, even when I was afraid.

I also learned that I didn’t have to figure everything out by myself. I had meetings, sponsorship, literature, and prayer. If I was honest, open-minded, and willing, the answers usually came.

The Serenity Prayer Became a Lifesaver

At most meetings back then, there was a small, laminated card that contained the AA Preamble, the Twelve Steps, the Twelve Traditions, and the Serenity Prayer. Someone gave me one, and it turned out to be a lifesaver. I carried it everywhere until it was worn out.

My memory was not very good when I first came into AA, so I could never quite remember the prayer. Whenever I felt stressed, disappointed, confused, or overwhelmed, I would pull out that card and read it. Sometimes I read it over and over again.

Each time I did, I felt a sense of peace. It reminded me that there were things I could not control and that I was powerless to change them. It also reminded me that there were things I could do. Reading that prayer helped shift my focus away from finding relief in a drink and back toward dealing with life.

Accepting Life on Life’s Terms

The Serenity Prayer became one of the most valuable tools in my recovery. It taught me how to face life without looking for an escape or an easier, softer way. For me, that is where recovery happens. I learned firsthand the value of those simple words, and I still use them every day.

By God’s grace, the Serenity Prayer found its way into AA, and I am grateful for it. It helped carry me through some difficult moments in early sobriety, and it continues to guide me today.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.

Living One Day at a Time

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Living One Day at a Time

The concept of living one day at a time never occurred to me before I came to the rooms of AA. It may have sounded like a nice theory, but it wasn’t something I ever thought I could attain, much less apply to my own life.

Before AA, I Lived in the Past and Future

When I drank, a lot of my anxiety came from my past—what I did and failed to do. My past was filled with resentments and self-anger over what was done and what I failed to do. It was loaded with inadequacies. Of course, that was easy to mask with a few drinks, or so I thought.

If I really screwed up in my early days of drinking, I’d brush off my craziness with my friends as a badge of honor. But the sad part is that the damage can be cumulative. After a while, people around me would avoid my company as they went on living their own lives.

The consequences of drinking are also a double-edged sword. It is not just the past that creates a problem. Those actions and mistakes also impact the future. Doubt sets in, fears arise, and anxiety increases. At least, that is what occurred in my own life.

It is easy to get discouraged when you are drinking. Poor job performance, lack of career opportunities, and relationship issues are all par for the course when drinking. Chaos becomes the norm in life, and the collateral damage starts to amass.

When There Seemed to Be No Way Out

This was a point in my life when it was easy to fall into despondency and feel there was no light at the end of the tunnel. Every day became a replay of Groundhog Day. If nothing changes, nothing changes.  There came a point when depression became an accepted fate in life. For me, it literally became a jumping-off point when I came to realize I could not live with alcohol, nor could I live without it.

It is a suffocating moment to realize you are trapped, and there is no escape. Even oblivion in a drunken stupor offers no real solution. That final awareness is what drove me to AA. I needed a solution.

Day One in AA

I was fortunate enough to run into someone I used to drink with at my first meeting. He came over and asked me how I was doing. All I remember sharing was that I wanted to stop drinking.  He was obviously sober and in good spirits, and that was encouraging. After the meeting, he asked if I had some time to join him for a cup of coffee. I was more than ready to listen, and I accepted.

He then shared that he had been sober one day at a time for six months. He had found a solution to his problem in AA.  He explained that AA was a simple program for complicated people. At that first meeting, he explained that the basic solution in AA is a daily one: we don’t drink one day at a time.

He told me to forget about my past; it was history. This was day one of my sobriety. There would be plenty of time down the road to deal with the past and learn how to live differently. For now, the most important thing was simply not to drink.  He asked me if I thought I could do this for one day, and I said yes. At the time, I was 21 years old, and if someone had told me I could never drink again for the rest of my life, I probably would never have come back to AA.

But one day? I thought I could do that.

One Day at a Time Became a New Way of Living

Sobriety—stopping the drink—is not a one-time event. Living one day at a time is persevering through life’s ups and downs.

The full program of recovery in AA has twelve Steps. Each Step has allowed me greater freedom in this new life and given me a way to deal with my past. Living right today helps ensure a more promising future.

For me, this way of living gives me a purpose, even at times when I do not understand the endgame or the goal of life. It’s practice. I am dealing with what is on my plate in life today.

I am no longer dealing with the anxiety of what is yet to come or constantly facing the exposure of something I’ve done in my past. That doesn’t mean I ignore the past or avoid responsibility. The Steps gave me a way to deal with it.

Living one day at a time is not about being complacent. To me, it is about living life to its fullest. I am not avoiding life, nor am I shirking my responsibilities.

A New Beginning

Looking back, I see that living one day at a time was much more than a way to stay away from alcohol. It gave me a new beginning.  When I first came to AA, I was overwhelmed by the past and frightened by the future. I couldn’t imagine how my life could ever change. I only knew that I needed a solution.I didn’t need to figure out the rest of my life on that first day. I only needed to stay sober today.  Over time, one day became another, and another. Somewhere along the way, I discovered that I wasn’t simply staying away from alcohol. I was learning how to live.  

Today, living one day at a time allows me to enjoy my successes and learn from my mistakes. It allows me to face life’s responsibilities without being overwhelmed by everything that might happen tomorrow.  For me, it has become a grateful way of living. I can deal with what is in front of me today, learn from yesterday, and let tomorrow arrive when it gets here.

What began as a way to make it through my first day without a drink became the beginning of a purposeful life I could never have imagined.

How It Really Works

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How It Really Works

“Rarely have we seen a person fail who has thoroughly followed our path.”

When I first read that line in Chapter Five of the Big Book, I found it comforting. At the same time, I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to do everything that was being asked of me. As I continued reading, I realized that thoroughly following the path meant much more than simply attending meetings. It meant surrender, commitment, taking inventory, admitting my wrongs, making amends, changing my behavior, and then carrying the message to others. That seemed like a tall order.

Meetings and Fellowship Were Not Enough

At first, I thought some of the Steps didn’t really apply to me. It was easy to be dismissive. But “How It Works” doesn’t suggest that we pick and choose the Steps that make us happy. It makes it clear that there is work ahead. Knowing my own stubborn nature, I could certainly relate to the line, “At some of these we balked.” Whether they were referring to Steps Four through Nine or all of them, I found plenty of places where I resisted.

For the first six months in AA, I tried to stay sober on meetings and fellowship alone. While I enjoyed being around sober people, I was still angry, still self-centered, and unwilling to look any deeper. Eventually, my sobriety became a stalemate. I came to realize that if I did not start working the program, I would eventually go back to drinking. Why wouldn’t I? I was still acting the same way; I was just doing it without alcohol.

A Turning Point in My Recovery

That realization became a turning point in my recovery. I surrendered in the Third Step and immediately got to work on my Fourth and Fifth Steps. When those were completed, my sponsor guided me through making amends and continuing the rest of the program.

I have to say that the feeling I experienced after completing those early Steps was unlike anything I had ever known. There was a tremendous sense of freedom. For the first time, I felt like I was truly part of the fellowship. I felt connected to something greater than myself, and it was a wonderful feeling.

Alcoholism truly is “cunning, baffling, and powerful.” One of its greatest tricks is convincing us that we don’t really have a problem. In early sobriety, I still had doubts. Part of me wanted to believe that things weren’t that bad. I blamed circumstances, bad breaks, and the stresses of life. Some of my friends even told me I wasn’t an alcoholic and suggested I was being too hard on myself. Deep down, though, I knew better.

The Freedom of Rigorous Honesty

I thank God that I stayed the course. I committed to ninety meetings in ninety days, and I believe it helped save my life. What helped me most was the principle of rigorous honesty.

During those early months, I finally had enough sober time to look honestly at my past and see the truth. My problem became clear. AA gave me a program of recovery, a fellowship, and a way forward. It allowed me to do something about the problem that had controlled my life for so long.

For that, and for the grace of a loving God, I am forever grateful.

How It Works ABCs

Posted on by Jim C.

AA How It Works: The ABCs

One of my favorite parts of the Alcoholics Anonymous reading of How It Works, as it is read at meetings, is the last three lines. Those three lines—A, B, and C—cover the essence of the first three Steps, and they continue to resonate with me.

A: We Were Alcoholic and Could Not Manage Our Lives

The first statement (A) is: “That we were alcoholic and could not manage our own lives.” For me, this is a statement of powerlessness. My powerlessness over alcohol manifested itself in the unmanageability of my life. It is a truth that will never change. I could try to slow down; I could try to change the way I drank, and I could try to manage my life differently, but the fact remained. If I am an alcoholic, it is not smart for me to keep drinking—the results are predictable: insanity, misery, and ultimately death. That is a truth in my life, a non-debatable fact.

What also draws me to this statement is the word “We.” Other members are also attesting to this truth. I am not alone in my experience. This became my First Step in recovery.

B: No Human Power Could Relieve Our Alcoholism

The second statement (B) is: “That probably no human power could have relieved our alcoholism.” That statement speaks volumes. No one person is capable of controlling my alcoholism. Sobriety is an inside job. I have to want the change in my life.

The best sponsor, a loving mother or father, a judge, a home group, a spouse, a sibling, a pastor, priest, rabbi, therapist, psychiatrist, psychologist, or even a warden cannot change my mindset and keep me sober. Not even an ankle bracelet, Antabuse, or prison can change the determination I heard expressed by so many people in AA.

That realization hit me hard. It felt as if someone had taken the training wheels off my bicycle and pushed me into traffic. How was I going to stay sober while facing life on life’s terms without a drink to take the edge off?

I have been sober long enough to experience life events where talking to a sponsor, calling someone, or getting to a meeting was not an option. Cell phones and the internet were not always available, and even today, many people choose to pick up a drink instead of calling a sponsor or joining a meeting. I learned that I could not place my trust in just one person. What if my sponsor picked up a drink? Would that mean AA no longer worked?

My only recourse was prayer for direction and guidance. This became my Second Step. I had to begin believing that sobriety and sane thinking were possible, while also accepting that I alone did not have the solution to my dilemma.

C: God Could and Would If He Were Sought

The last statement in How It Works (C) is: “That God could and would if He were sought.” That was a game-changer for me.

As a drinker, I was pretty much an atheist. I believed I could do whatever I wanted without fear of spiritual consequences. When I came to AA, I was not looking for God. I came because I wanted to stop drinking. I wanted to learn how other people were dealing with life without alcohol.

What I discovered in the meetings I attended and through the stories I heard left little doubt in my mind that there was a God. I found solutions and answers that helped me stay sober one day at a time. That did not mean life became easy. It simply meant I was no longer facing life alone.

Many of the challenges I encountered in sobriety I faced by myself. There were moments when critical decisions had to be made, and consulting another person was not always possible. Faith and trust in a Higher Power often came from a place of desperation rather than willingness. Yet those moments represented complete surrender. There were moments when I finally threw in the towel on self-will. I was out of options—so I prayed.

Even if my prayer lasted only a few seconds, it represented a major decision. It meant accepting whatever God’s will might be after I had done everything within my power and participated fully in my recovery. God could and would—if He were sought. I needed a higher power to guide me.

That fulfillment became my Third Step. I try to recommit myself to it daily, and it has remained a permanent part of my sobriety since I was about six months sober in AA.

I am forever grateful to AA and to my Higher Power for the lessons I have learned and the wisdom that has been shared with me. Those lessons have given me, and countless others, the grace of a new life.

Hitting Bottom

Posted on by Jim C.

Hitting Bottom

I believe I had to hit bottom before I could stop drinking. There had to be something that finally sparked change. For me, it was the realization that I didn’t want to go any lower. I finally saw alcohol for what it really was and knew I couldn’t keep going the way I was. That was my bottom.

What I once thought was the solution to my shyness and discomfort with life had become the problem.

I’ve learned that a bottom is different for everyone. That’s one reason we don’t compare bottoms in AA. My drinking career was relatively short by AA standards, but looking back, I can see that I tried many times to stop, control, or limit my drinking. The common thread was always the same: once I started, I couldn’t predict what would happen. Deep down, I knew alcohol had power over me, even though I blamed circumstances, relationships, and bad luck instead.

My bottom wasn’t a catastrophe. I still had a good job and money in the bank. The fact was, I had never been arrested, had no accidents, no DUIs, and no court orders. Thank God for that. From the outside, my life probably looked fine.

What changed was my honesty. I reached a moment of truth where I could clearly see that if I kept drinking the way I was, my life wasn’t going to end well. Ironically, I was drinking when I came to that realization.

When I looked at my drinking history, I saw that I had tried everything. I switched drinks, stopped for periods of time, changed bars, went to the gym, started and ended relationships, and convinced myself things would somehow be different. They never were. If I had one drink, it was only the beginning. Whether it was beer, wine, or my favorite scotch and soda, the outcome was always the same.

For years, I thought I was the life of the party. Looking back, I was more like the sideshow. I spent money freely, bought drinks for everyone, and acted as if I were in control. The truth was that alcohol was in control of me.

What I remember most is feeling trapped. I couldn’t imagine a life without bars, drinking, and the people I surrounded myself with. I thought that was all there was, and I couldn’t have been more wrong.

My last day of drinking wasn’t dramatic. It was just another weekend of partying. I never planned to quit forever. There was no crisis and no final disaster. What I felt was something new—a desperate desire to be free.

Drinking had become like the movie Groundhog Day. The same cycle repeated over and over, and I was exhausted. Finally, I prayed and asked God for help because I knew I couldn’t do it on my own. The only thing I knew for certain was that I needed to stop and stay stopped.

The next morning, I woke up with the same determination. I called AA and went to my first meeting. There, I found people who understood exactly what I was going through. Our stories were different, but our problem was the same.

I’m grateful to say that I found my solution in AA—in the fellowship, the meetings, the Twelve Steps, a good sponsor, and a loving God whose grace continues to guide me. AA gave me more than sobriety. It gave me a new way of life, freedom from alcohol, and the opportunity to trudge the road of happy destiny with others in the fellowship, one day at a time.

Grateful Alcoholics

Posted on by Jim C.

 Grateful Alcoholics

In early sobriety, I used to hear people introduce themselves as grateful alcoholics. I thought they had a problem, and maybe it wasn’t all about alcohol. I couldn’t imagine being grateful for something that had caused so much pain in my life.  

As time went on, my thinking changed.

I didn’t have one dramatic moment where everything suddenly made sense. Recovery seemed to happen gradually. I kept going to meetings, listening, and spending time with other sober people. The more I did, the more comfortable I became in my own skin.

One thing I noticed was that I always felt better leaving a meeting than I did when I arrived. I enjoyed the topics, the laughter, and the fellowship. Some of my favorite memories weren’t from the meetings themselves but from sitting in diners and pizzerias afterward, talking with sponsors and friends over coffee and cigarettes. Those conversations taught me as much about life as they did about recovery.

Somewhere along the way, sobriety stopped feeling like a battle against alcohol. It became a new way of living. Instead of trying to escape life, I began looking forward to it. I found myself wondering who would be at the meeting that night and what we would talk about afterward.

As the years passed, I started noticing changes in myself. I was thinking differently, reacting differently, and making better choices. At first, I wondered if it was luck or a coincidence. Eventually, I came to believe something else was happening. My relationship with God was growing, and so was I.

The spiritual awakenings didn’t come all at once. Some were dramatic, but most were quiet. Often, I didn’t recognize them until much later. Looking back, I can see many moments when God was doing for me what I could not do for myself.

Today, I understand what those grateful alcoholics were talking about. I’m not grateful for the pain my drinking caused, but I am grateful for the life recovery has given me. AA gave me a reprieve, a fellowship, a spiritual path, and a chance to live differently.

By the grace of a loving God, I am a grateful recovering alcoholic. Most of all, I am grateful that I came to AA—and that I stayed.

Avoiding that First Drink

Posted on by Jim C.

Avoiding That First Drink

There are many lessons to be learned from our drinking years, and not all of them come after we get sober. Sometimes, we can look back at the mistakes we made while drinking and learn what we need to do differently if we want to stay sober. I learned in AA that it’s the first drink that gets me drunk, so my sober life is built around avoiding that first drink.

Easy to Stop?

I have said many times that it is easy to stop drinking, and I had stopped many times. What I found difficult was staying stopped. Before I came to AA, it was not unusual for me to go on the wagon. I might stop drinking for a few weeks, or even as long as three months, but I wasn’t really changing anything. I was still doing many of the same things I had done while drinking. Nothing changes if nothing changes. I hung out with the same crowd, went to the same bars, and frequented places where drinking was a major part of the social life.

If my friends knew I wasn’t drinking, they might say, “Well, you can have a beer. That’s not drinking!” Guess what? It never worked.  Eventually, I would slide right back into my old behavior. I had stopped drinking, but I hadn’t changed the life that surrounded my drinking.

In sobriety, I don’t have to replay that scenario to see if it will be different this time. Sobriety isn’t about seeing how close I can put my hand to a flame without getting burned. Recovery from alcoholism isn’t a test of willpower.  Hanging around my old drinking buddies and trying to prove that I could stay sober never worked for me. When I came into AA in the 1970s, there was an old saying that made a lot of sense to me: “If you’re not a lion tamer, you don’t go into the lion’s den.”

I understood that.  In reality, I had been asking for trouble. If I were going on a diet, it wouldn’t make much sense for me to spend all day hanging around Dunkin’ Donuts because I liked their coffee. Eventually, my willpower might give out, and I’d be eating the doughnuts. The same principle helped me understand my alcoholism. People, places, and things could become triggers for me. I needed to recognize the situations that could put me in danger and avoid them rather than continually testing myself.

Another decision I made early in sobriety, and one I am grateful for today, was that I wasn’t going to look for substitutes for drinking. I wanted sobriety, not another way to change how I felt. For me, that was part of practicing the rigorous honesty I was learning in AA. I had to be honest with myself about what I was doing and why I was doing it.  

Revolving Door Sobriety

I didn’t want a revolving door where I stopped drinking, found another way to alter my mood, eventually returned to alcohol, stopped again, and repeated the process. I wanted to stop and stay stopped. That brings me to another question I have asked myself over the years: Does it make sense for me to drink non-alcoholic beer, wine, or mocktails that taste like the real thing?  For me, the answer is no.  I never drank for the taste. My drinking always had a purpose — I drank for the effect.

I don’t need a fake drink to become a segue back to my old life and my old way of thinking. There is no reason for me to think nostalgically about drinking or wonder what I might be missing. For me, that kind of thinking is an alcoholic fantasy.

My new life in sobriety has given me something far better. I have real friends, real experiences, and real opportunities. I don’t need to recreate the appearance of my drinking days to enjoy my life today.  The one thing I still remind myself of on a daily basis is simple: I am an alcoholic, and I cannot safely drink.

No Occasion Deserves A Drink

Over the years, I have learned that there is no occasion in life that makes drinking a good idea for an alcoholic like me. Birthdays, deaths, weddings, baptisms, celebrations, disappointments, or getting a promotion—none of them require a drink.  There will always be a reason someone can give me to drink.  I just don’t need one.  One drink is too many, and a thousand are not enough.

I am forever grateful that AA taught me these truths about myself and my alcoholism. I learned that staying away from that first drink is much easier than picking it up and trying to start my sobriety all over again.

For me, avoiding that first drink isn’t simply about avoiding a beverage.

It is about protecting the life I have today.

AA Anonymity

Posted on by Jim C.

Anonymity in AA: Why It Still Matters

Anonymity was a major topic in AA in the 1970s and a frequent subject of discussion. What I learned about it was priceless. It allowed me to build a new life with a clean slate. Coming into AA young was a blessing because I had no documented strikes against me. By the grace of God, I was never arrested, fired from a job, or diagnosed with health problems tied to my drinking. In that sense, I was unscathed. Mentally, however, it was another story.

In the 1970s, things were different. There were no arrests or citations for “Driving Under the Influence” (DUI’s) like there are today. A policeman would probably just send you on your way, most likely not wanting to deal with the paperwork. I was mainly an after-work drinker and never drank on the job. I usually drank at local bars near home. It was also common for bartenders to cut people off and send them home if they had too much to drink. Looking back, many troubling situations were avoided. So, when I came to AA, I was able to start over without a lot of wreckage behind me.

AA Anonymity appealed to me immediately. I saw the value in it. The old-timers I met were humble people. Some, I later discovered, held important jobs and successful careers, yet they carefully protected both their own anonymity and that of other members. Anonymity was sacred. None of the meetings I attended had membership lists. That would have been unheard of. Even last names were rarely used. Most members were known by a first name and last initial, like Peter B. or Joe C. Others had nicknames, like Ferryboat Pete. My own nickname was “Jim C. Red” because of my bright red hair.

Shortly after coming to AA, I had an opportunity for a job promotion. It involved security clearance, an investigation, and an interview before a management panel. I was anxious, but there was nothing to fear. I got the job and continued working on my recovery while guarding my anonymity. Years later, I applied for another position requiring a background check and passed that one as well. In the workplace, I only broke my anonymity with close friends if I thought it might help them. If someone asked why I did not drink, I simply said it was not for me.

Anonymity is a cloak of humility. I want to stay sober and give full credit for my sobriety to Alcoholics Anonymous and the grace of a loving God — my Higher Power. AA taught me how to live with my disease one day at a time while remaining available to help others. It also allowed me to practice the principles of AA in all my affairs without the world pointing a finger and saying, “Did you know that person is an alcoholic?” There was peace of mind in that. I did not have to prove I was recovering — I simply lived it.

I am grateful to Alcoholics Anonymous for allowing me to live a successful and fulfilling life. Most people never knew of my struggles, and my path was guided by the principles of the Twelve Steps. I believe the people I dealt with in work and in business benefited from that way of living. My sober life became centered on trying to do the next right thing.

Today, in retirement, I can choose to reveal myself if it may help someone struggling with alcoholism or life itself. If breaking my anonymity helps another suffering person, then so be it. Sometimes we alcoholics are the last to realize we need help. We suffer in silence, paralyzed by fear, shame, and pride. That is why anonymity remains so important. It gives people a safe place to speak honestly, seek help, and begin again. The ability to share openly without fear of judgment may very well save a life, just as it once saved mine.

Sober But Still Running My Life

Posted on by Jim C.

Sober, But Still Running My Life

Step Three in AAThere comes a time in many alcoholics’ lives when we realize that our way of doing things simply isn’t working. I reached that point about six months into my sobriety. I was making meetings every day and active in service. From the outside, I looked like I was doing everything right. But inside, something was off — because I wasn’t working the Twelve Steps.

I wasn’t close to drinking, but my behavior hadn’t changed much from before I came to AA. I was still selfish, quick‑tempered, and resistant to suggestions. I was trying to live the same way I always had, only without alcohol, and it wasn’t working.  Every day felt like pounding square pegs into round holes. My attitude was becoming obvious to the people around me. No one confronted me, but I could see it in their reactions. The good news was that I saw it too — and I wanted to change.

Working the Steps

One evening after a meeting, while reading the Big Book, the answer finally became clear: I wasn’t working the Steps. I had been comparing myself to others and convincing myself that my alcoholism wasn’t “as bad.” I was trying to do AA my way — through self‑will. But AA isn’t a do‑it‑yourself program.

My sponsor had helped me understand the First Step — powerlessness and unmanageability. But recovery required more than admitting I couldn’t safely drink. There were Twelve Steps, and I had been balking at the Third.

The first two Steps helped me accept reality: I was an alcoholic, and I could no longer safely drink. But the AA Step Three went further: “Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.”

Humility Required

For me, that meant acknowledging that there were limits to what I could fix on my own. It required humility — admitting that my way hadn’t worked and becoming willing to try something different. I had to surrender stubbornness, self‑will, and the need to control everything. I had to let go and let God.  The Third Step wasn’t just a statement. It was a decision followed by action. A decision without action changes nothing, and the same was true in recovery.

Together, the first three Steps became the foundation of my sobriety. I admitted I was powerless over alcohol. I became willing to believe a Power greater than myself could restore me to sanity. And then I made a decision to turn my will and my life over to that Power. That decision changed the direction of my recovery.  Life didn’t suddenly become easy. But once I stopped trying to run my life entirely on my own terms and placed it in my Higher Power’s hands, I became willing — and committed — to work the rest of the Steps.

A Turning Point

Step Three in AA was a turning point. It opened the door to the rest of the program and taught me that recovery was about far more than not drinking. It was about learning a new way to live. Letting go and letting God didn’t mean giving up responsibility. It meant giving up the belief that I had to control everything. I became comfortable knowing I didn’t have to be the leader anymore. It was okay to be led by something greater than myself.  That was the beginning of learning to live my life one day at a time.

As I continued practicing Step Three in AA, I found myself returning often to the AA Third Step Prayer. It reminded me that surrender wasn’t a one‑time event but a daily willingness to let go of self‑will and ask for guidance. That quiet commitment — repeated in prayer and in action — helped me learn to live with humility, trust, and a new sense of direction.

The AA Preamble

Posted on by Jim C.

The AA Preamble: What It Meant to Me as a Newcomer

During my first few days in AA, I attended a meeting where I was asked to read the AA Preamble. Of course, I felt obligated, but as I read it, I was honestly in awe. It sounded wonderful, almost too good to be true. It was unlike any fraternity, business meeting, or organization I had ever encountered. The words of the Preamble were welcoming and reassuring, and they seemed to answer many of the fears and concerns I had about AA in the first place.

Like most newcomers, my biggest fear was the unknown. I had many questions, but I didn’t want to ask them out loud. I was afraid of offending someone or saying the wrong thing. After all, I was new and knew nothing about how AA worked. I decided to take a “wait and see” attitude and quietly give AA a fair chance. I had committed myself to trying ninety meetings in ninety days because that was what had been suggested to me. It was far too early for me to rock the boat or draw attention to myself.

I Had Questions

Up until I heard the Preamble, my mind was filled with unanswered questions. What was required for membership? Were there dues or hidden fees? Was AA connected to a religion? Did they expect money? Was this some kind of cult? Would they try to sell me something? Yet as I stood there reading, the answers seemed to unfold right in front of me.

First, the Preamble explained that AA was a fellowship of people who shared a common problem—alcoholism. I understood that immediately. We were all in the same boat, though at different stages of recovery, all trying to stay sober one day at a time.

It also became clear that people with more experience in recovery could help those with less time, or those who were struggling. How? By sharing what worked for them and what did not. That made sense to me. It was simple and easy to understand.

The Only Requirement

Then came the part that truly put my mind at ease: “The only requirement for membership is a desire to stop drinking.”

That statement lifted a tremendous burden from me. I didn’t have to prove anything. I could attend meetings, introduce myself by my first name, and belong because I had a desire to stop drinking. The emphasis on anonymity also meant a great deal to me. I felt I could begin a new life in recovery with a clean slate.

The part about there being no dues or fees surprised me too. If you had something to contribute, fine. If you didn’t, that was fine too. I remember being amused in early sobriety when the basket would go around during meetings, and someone might actually take change out for bus fare, and no one seemed bothered by it.

In most places, that might raise eyebrows, but not in AA. It reminded me that many people arrive in AA at some of the lowest points in their lives. Recovery is often a struggle in the beginning, and AA offered understanding instead of judgment.

The small collections taken at meetings barely covered coffee, cups, rent, and supplies, but I also appreciated that AA was self-supporting and not obligated to outside organizations or sponsors.

The rest of the Preamble continued to reassure me. AA was not allied with any sect, denomination, politics, organization, or institution. It did not engage in controversy, and it had one primary purpose: to stay sober and help other alcoholics achieve sobriety.

AA Was a Safe Haven

That simplicity and singleness of purpose meant everything to me as a newcomer. I no longer sat there wondering, “What are they really up to?” Instead, I began to feel safe, accepted, and hopeful.

For me, the AA Preamble was much more than words read at the beginning of a meeting. It became an introduction to the spirit of AA itself. It told me I was in the right place, surrounded by people who understood, and that recovery was truly possible.