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.

The Other 23 Hours

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Recovery: The Other 23 Hours of the Day

When I attend meetings, I’ve always believed that living the program of recovery happens during the other 23 hours of the day. Meetings are my safe port in a storm. When the meeting is over and I go out into the world, that is when I truly have the opportunity to practice my program. It is where I must face life as it comes and deal with reality on reality’s terms.

Meetings are my classroom for living. They are a safe place filled with comfort, fellowship, honesty, and understanding. They give me an opportunity for growth and reflection. When I attend, I listen carefully and take time to think about what is shared. By God’s grace, the fellowship enlightens and inspires me. In many ways, that is meditation. I have the opportunity to participate in life sober.

For me, attending meetings is about more than simply showing up. There is no predefined formula. No one takes attendance, and we have no truancy officers. There is purpose in being there. I need to ask myself, “Why am I here?” Recovery is not only about not drinking. It is about learning how to live life on life’s terms. It is about growth.

Meetings Are Meditation

Everything shared in a meeting is worthy of prayer and reflection—the jokes, the laughter, the tears, and the honesty. From beginning to end, a meeting is a sacred event to me. The AA readings—the Preamble, How It Works, the Twelve Traditions, and the Ninth Step Promises—all contain truths worth reflecting on.

In every meeting, there are words, thoughts, or stories that can change the course of my life. In my own sobriety, AA has become my church—a place where I witness miracles and find hope. It is where I recharge my spiritual battery and where I can help others find peace in sobriety. When I leave a meeting, I feel refreshed, strengthened, and resolved to live the rest of the day to the best of my ability and according to the will of my Higher Power.

I am truly blessed and deeply grateful for God’s grace in leading me to AA.

I Came to Believe

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I Came, I Came to, and I Came to Believe 

In my own sobriety, I learned that some meetings were more important than others. I say that because of the lessons I heard there—lessons I never forgot and still use today.

In early sobriety, I was going to a lot of AA meetings. I wasn’t drinking, but I also didn’t feel like I was making much progress. I wasn’t thinking about taking a drink, but I was discouraged. Still, I kept showing up. 

Most of the meetings I attended back then were step meetings and speaker meetings. My struggles were no longer with alcohol itself; they were about learning how to live life on life’s terms. I was trying to adjust to a completely new way of living, and there were still things inside me holding back my growth.

When I first came to AA, I was an atheist. During my drinking years, I had rejected the idea of God completely. Even after I got sober, I still struggled with the thought of a Higher Power.  Finding God in AA was never part of my plan. I only wanted to learn how to stop drinking and stay stopped. Stopping drinking turned out to be the easy part. Staying stopped—and learning how to live sober—was much harder for me.

Living Sober in a Fog

Without alcohol, my mind was still a mess. I felt like I was living in a sober fog that had not yet lifted. Back then, some of the older members in New York City AA had a word for it. They called it “Mocus.” I’ve never really heard the term outside of New York AA, but in slang dictionaries, it means “mostly out of focus.”  That described me perfectly.

One Sunday afternoon at a speaker meeting, I heard a fellow AA member share his story. He also happened to be a priest. I honestly don’t remember much of what he said from the podium, but afterward, we sat down over a cup of coffee and talked.  I shared where I was emotionally and spiritually. I told him about my confusion over spirituality, religion, God, and where I fit into all of it.

He listened carefully and then asked me, “How long have you been sober?”  I told him I only had a few months and had been making meetings every day. He smiled and reassured me that I was doing fine.

Advice that Changed My Life

Then he gave me some advice that changed my life. He told me to keep doing what I was doing: go to meetings, get involved, and, most importantly, don’t give up one day at a time.  He also told me to always be honest with myself, keep an open mind, and be willing to change. He said the acronym for that was HOW.  He told me never to forget it, because if I lived that way, my life would begin to reveal itself to me. 

What impressed me most was that he never tried to force God or religion on me. Instead, he simply met me where I was.  That conversation validated AA for me. It helped me better understand the AA Preamble and the principles behind the program. More than anything, it lifted a heavy weight of fear and confusion from my mind.

A Turning Point

Looking back now, I can see that moment was an important turning point in my recovery. It gave real meaning to the phrase, “I came, I came to, and I came to believe.”

Today, I remain deeply grateful to AA, to a loving God, and for the patience shown to me as a slow learner. I am grateful for recovery and for the fellowship that continues to guide me in ways greater than my own understanding.

I love the Freedom

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I Love the Freedom Sobriety Brings

I love the freedom my new life affords me. The benefits I enjoy today are a direct result of working and living the 12 Steps of the AA program.  To get here, I first had to surrender to the truth that I could no longer safely drink. I also had to accept that I could not do this alone. I thank God that I found AA, where others were seeking the same solution I desperately needed.

The solution was not simply giving up alcohol. It was the change that came from living the 12 Steps and allowing the program to transform my life into something new and wonderful.  I am no longer a victim, nor am I an unwilling slave to addiction. Today, I can live and enjoy my life. I have new friends and opportunities that I would have completely overlooked if I were still drinking. Life is good.

I have peace of mind today, and no longer feel the need to look over my shoulder, wondering whether something I did or said will come back to haunt me. I no longer have to make excuses for not showing up at work. People trust me, and they value my opinions.  Things are right in my world and right with God. I am at peace, and that is what serenity means to me. 

Serenity

Serenity is not simply a fleeting feeling or a momentary emotion. For me, it is the peace that comes from trying to live AA’s way of life each day. It is one of the rewards I receive from practicing the program. AA works.  I know that feeling of serenity can continue as long as I remain willing to live by this suggested program of recovery. God knows I am not perfect, but each day I try to live my sober life to the best of my ability.

By the grace of a loving God, my Higher Power, and through AA, I have been freed from the slavery of obsession and compulsion. I have real choices today.  That freedom has released me from so much guilt, resentment, fear, needless anxiety, and remorse. I can face life instead of trying to escape from it.

Of course, there are still ups and downs in sobriety. There always will be. I still have to deal with finances, health, the loss of loved ones, and the occasional setback. Sobriety does not give me a life without problems.

Sobriety gives me a solution.

My solution is no longer oblivion when I cannot deal with life on life’s terms. I don’t have to drink my way out of difficult circumstances or run from feelings I don’t want to face. I can deal with life as it comes, one day at a time.

That, to me, is freedom.

I am deeply grateful that I finally surrendered to the truth that there was a better way to live—and it was not my way.

Facing Responsibilities Sober

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Facing Responsibilities Sober

I had been sober for nearly ten years and felt secure in my recovery. During that time, I started and chaired a small Step Study meeting that met every Friday morning.  I also worked evenings at a job that required seven days a week. My daily commute took about an hour and a half. Life was busy. I had a wife and young family, and much of my time went toward caring for sick children and making trips to the emergency room.

Learning to Set Priorities

I shared my concerns with a friend and mentor in AA. I told him I felt I should attend more meetings.  He understood the demands I faced. However, he reminded me that AA is not a hideout.  He told me that sober living means putting first things first and learning how to set priorities. Then he asked me a simple question:

“Are you thinking about drinking?”

I told him no.

His question helped me understand something important. Sobriety means facing life’s responsibilities, not avoiding them.  As alcoholics, we may want to escape painful situations. Recovery teaches us how to live through them rather than run from them.  He also told me that if I ever started thinking about drinking, I needed to get to more meetings as quickly as possible.

I never forgot that advice.

Sobriety is about how I live, not about making excuses or putting myself first. As alcoholics in recovery, we are not exempt from dealing with life on life’s terms.  The difficult seasons of raising a family, facing illness, and carrying heavy responsibilities do not last forever. Therefore, endurance in sobriety often means living one day at a time, one twenty-four-hour period at a time.

Sobriety Beyond the Meeting Room

When I read the Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, I was especially moved by the section in Step Three describing how World War II became an early major test of the Fellowship’s principles.*

Many AA members served in the military and were scattered across the world. People wondered how newly sober alcoholics would handle the fear, stress, and loneliness of war without local meetings, sponsors, or fellowship close at hand.

Think about that for a moment.  There were no Zoom meetings, no cell phones, and no easy way to stay connected. Yet many of those members stayed sober.  In fact, their strength came from dependence on a Higher Power and from practicing the spiritual principles of the program each day.  That same truth carried me through my own difficult season.

I relied on my Higher Power and practiced the Twelve Steps to the best of my ability each day. As a result, I met my responsibilities and remained comfortably sober at the same time.

My Higher Power and the Steps became one of the greatest sources of strength in my recovery.

What Sobriety Taught Me

Every day in sobriety brings new lessons.

During that period of my life, I learned that hard times do not last forever. More importantly, I learned that some of the best guidance I have ever received has come through other members of the program.

I remain forever grateful for the grace of a loving God, and for the better way of life I found in AA.

*(pages 38–39 of the book Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions. )

How Do I Know if Im an Alcoholic

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How Do I Know If I’m an Alcoholic?

People often ask me, “How do I know if I’m an alcoholic?” Most of us carry around stereotypes about alcoholism—the person sleeping under a bridge, homeless, or living in a shelter. But alcoholism doesn’t always look like that. I’ve known alcoholics who held full-time jobs, were successful in business, and were respected in their communities. I once believed an alcoholic was someone who never drew a sober breath, but that simply isn’t true.

When newcomers ask me that question, I usually tell them that only they can decide if they have a problem. A parent, spouse, employer, judge, or police officer may suspect it, but the individual has to be willing to admit it. For me, alcohol became something that controlled my thinking. Even if I only drank on weekends, I obsessed about it all week long. By Friday, my mind was already planning how much fun I was going to have. But once I started drinking and the compulsion kicked in, I could never predict how or where the night would end.

I wasn’t a blackout drinker. I remembered most of what I did, and that almost made it worse. Those memories can become haunting over time, and the easiest solution always seemed to be drowning them out with another drink.

My own drinking didn’t fit the stereotype either. I drank mostly on weekends. I played guitar and sang in bars, dated, danced, and used alcohol for social confidence because I was shy. My drink was Dewar’s Scotch. I convinced myself I had found the “right” way to drink because I didn’t get hangovers, black out, or act sloppily. I thought I was in control. But looking back, control was only an illusion.

I still went to work every day and was productive. I never drank on the job. My party came after work, and I told myself it was simply how I relaxed. So how could I possibly have a problem?

The cracks began to show

The cracks began to show slowly. Friends moved on with their lives and gradually stopped wanting to be around me. The chaos and late nights no longer appealed to them. Drinking more didn’t quiet my mind anymore. Depression crept in, health problems arose, and even though I was never arrested, trouble with the law no longer seemed impossible. Life was becoming unmanageable.

So I tried changing everything except facing the real problem. I changed where I drank and who I spent time with. I tried exercising more, met new people, and started fresh. But nothing changed because alcohol was still at the center of my life.

Eventually, I hit bottom. For me, a bottom was simply the moment I honestly realized I was out of options. That realization was impossible to deny. Alcohol wasn’t covering my problems anymore—it was the problem. Not my job, my relationships, my childhood, or my circumstances. The common denominator in all my troubles was alcohol.

Once I admitted that, I finally had a chance to change. I looked honestly at my own history and saw that as long as I drank, I was powerless to change the direction of my life. So I called AA and went to my first meeting.

That decision changed everything. I committed to 90 meetings in 90 days, found a sponsor, and started working the 12 Steps as a suggested program of recovery. Slowly, I began to feel like part of life again. AA became a beacon of hope for me, and that hope has never faded. I saw people just like me find a solution, and their lives gave me faith that I could recover, too.

For that, I remain deeply grateful—to God, to AA, and to the fellowship of people helping one another, one day at a time.

Trudging The Road

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Trudging the Road of Happy Destiny

Trudging the road of happy destiny“Trudging the road of happy destiny” has come to describe for me the daily process of recovery in AA. Recovery is not a race to get well overnight so I can hurry on to other things. I’ve learned in my own life that completing the Twelve Steps does not earn me a certificate of completion. There are no diplomas in recovery.

Over time, I came to realize that recovery requires me to continually change and adapt to life on life’s terms. Working the Steps is not a one-and-done experience; it is something I must practice every day. Anniversary chips may mark time, but they mean little if I am not continuing to grow spiritually and emotionally. Why do I say that? Because every day in sobriety presents life to me anew.

I gradually became aware that change is constant. Through listening and sharing with others, I’ve learned that we all encounter new situations and interact with people under changing circumstances. Life is never static unless I become complacent. One of the most dangerous mistakes I can make is believing I am completely self-sufficient. That thinking can quietly creep in when everything seems fine—I’m not drinking, I’m not even thinking about drinking, and life feels comfortable.

That is what “resting on my laurels” means to me: trying to coast through sobriety on yesterday’s serenity. I discovered in my own life that this was a fantasy. It simply was not realistic.

Each day in recovery brings its own challenges. Relationships change because people change. Jobs change. Finances change. The real question becomes: How do I deal with these things soberly? Often, I find myself in uncharted territory where my years in the program do not provide automatic answers. The good news is that today I am willing to face life instead of running from it.

Trudging is Persevering

For me, that is what the program is all about—persevering one day at a time, correcting my attitude, acknowledging my limitations, and doing my best to deal with life sober. My faith in AA and in a Higher Power helps move me in the right direction. When I make mistakes, it is not the end of the world. I can adjust my approach, learn from it, and try again.

Living this way means I no longer try to force a square peg into a round hole by demanding that life conform to my will. One of the greatest gifts of AA is that I do not have to do this alone. I am trudging this road alongside others in the fellowship. The destination is always today—not some distant dream or imagined future outcome.

In AA, I have often found answers through the shared experience of people who have already walked through similar situations. These are my fellow travelers in recovery, and they walk beside me every step of the way. I also try to remember that a Higher Power is guiding me. When I am uncertain, I have learned to pause and pray. It still amazes me how often solutions appear when I honestly admit how ill-equipped I can be to handle life on my own.

I remain deeply grateful to AA and to a loving God for helping me stay teachable despite myself. Recovery is not something I can simply claim to possess. It is something I must continue to practice, renew, review, and adjust as I face the challenges of each new day.

That, to me, is the meaning of trudging the road of happy destiny. I don’t have to know exactly where the road will lead. I only need to keep walking it, one day at a time.

Conditional Sobriety

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Do Not Place Conditions on Sobriety

I learned early in AA that it is very important not to place conditions on sobriety. If I truly believed there would someday be a “legitimate” reason to drink, I probably would have jumped off the wagon much sooner. As impulsive as I am, why would I wait for some special occasion to take a drink?

Early in sobriety, I asked my sponsor many questions. Most of those conversations took place after the meeting, over coffee or at a diner. I vividly remember asking him, “What about my wedding day? Couldn’t I at least enjoy a champagne toast?”  My sponsor asked, “Are you dating anyone right now?”  I said, “No.”  He laughed and told me I was not living in the day.  Then I asked, “What if one of my parents dies someday? Wouldn’t it be okay to have a drink after the wake?”  He smiled and asked, “Are your parents sick right now?” Again, I answered, “No.”

He gently explained that I was projecting myself into a future that had not yet come. I was living in fantasies and imagining situations instead of focusing on today. Besides, who was to say that I would not pass before them because of some unforeseen event?

In Case of Emergancy Break GlassWhat I learned from that conversation was life-changing. I was really talking about my obsession with alcohol. Maybe it was subconscious, but mentally, I had not fully accepted the idea of living without it. It was almost as if alcohol remained behind glass marked “For Emergencies Only,” ready to be used whenever life became difficult enough.

Thoughts like these are probably common in early sobriety. But for those of us in recovery, holding onto future excuses for a drink is really a preplanned drunk. If we are not honest enough to share those thoughts with a sponsor or in a meeting, then we are not being honest with ourselves.  The good news is that, one day at a time, we do not have to drink. Sobriety is a 24-hour commitment. The future still arrives one day at a time. I cannot predict what tomorrow will bring, so there is little value in worrying about it today.

Living This New Life Sober

During my years in the program, I got married and experienced the loss of friends, parents, sponsors, and brothers. I faced financial struggles, health problems, the births of children, job losses, and even a few near-death experiences myself. Through all of it, I thank God and AA that I never felt a drink could make the good times better or ease the pain during the hard times.

This truly is a program of rigorous honesty. I had to learn to share my thoughts, fears, and ideas with a sponsor so I could gain new insights into how to live a full and sober life.  That new life begins with being honest about my disease. Alcoholism is a killer. It is cunning, baffling, and powerful. It is never really about “just one drink.” The disease tries to lure us back by making us remember the good times while conveniently forgetting all the pain and destruction.

The phrase, “To thine own self be true,” has been a lifesaver for me. I am deeply grateful for AA, for the lessons I have learned, and for a loving God whose grace allows me to live and learn one day at a time.

Fifty Years of Sobriety

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Fifty Years of Sobriety, One Day at a Time

50 Years recovery AAReaching fifty years of continuous sobriety gave me a reason to stop and reflect on the journey. By that anniversary, I had lived 18,262 days without a drink—one day at a time.  May 11, 1976, was my first day in AA, and I remain deeply grateful for what began that day.  I came to AA as a 21-year-old young man. Fifty years later, I could look back as a 72-year-old man and realize that what I thought was the end of my life was actually the beginning of a new one.

When I first arrived at AA, I thought my life was over—especially my social life. But it wasn’t. In many ways, it was just beginning. I was being introduced to a new way of living, unlike anything I had ever known before.  One of the greatest lessons I learned early in sobriety was the idea of living life on life’s terms, one day at a time. What a freeing concept that was.

In some ways, it reminded me of the movie Groundhog Day. Yesterday’s mistakes no longer had to define me. What mattered most was what I chose to do with the day in front of me. Each new day gave me another opportunity to improve my behavior, grow in my relationships, and learn how to carry myself differently in life. That way of thinking became a major turning point for me.

90 Meetings in 90 Days

I was first introduced to this new way of life by a friend named Big Dan. He suggested that I try the program by attending 90 meetings in 90 days. Someone had given him the same advice when he first came into AA, and he said it had worked for him. At the time, he had six months of sobriety.  He told me that after 90 days, I could decide for myself whether I wanted to stay in AA. He assured me no one would come chasing after me if I left. After all, AA doesn’t have truant officers. So I took him up on it, and I stayed.

During those early days of sobriety, I attended many speaker meetings and began identifying with the stories I heard. I believe that identification is one of the most important parts of recovery—realizing that I am an alcoholic too and that I am not alone.

I needed to know that if I truly had a problem, AA had found a solution through the Twelve Steps of recovery. For me, it has.

Looking back over fifty years in AA, there have been countless days, yet no two were exactly the same. Living life on life’s terms taught me that change is the only constant. But through AA, I learned that I could adapt and handle life as it came.  I have never second-guessed AA in all these years. It has been a steady beacon, keeping me grounded and guiding me safely through life.

I am forever grateful to AA and to God’s grace for giving me the strength to continue, even during those times when there seemed to be no reason to keep going. We all face days when life is not what we hoped it would be. But even the darkest moments eventually give way to brighter days.

Fifty years of sobriety has taught me that I don’t have to know what tomorrow will bring. I only have to take care of today.

I want to thank everyone in AA who has shown me, by their example, that recovery truly works—if you work it, one day at a time.

My Last Drink

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My Last Drink: A Mother’s Prayer

May 10, 1976, was the day I took my last drink. The drinking had started the evening before in a bar and continued through the night, into the early morning hours, and well into the afternoon. At the time, it seemed like just another typical day of drinking. I had no idea that it would become the day that forever changed my life.

I came home around two o’clock that afternoon and saw my mother praying. She looked at me without saying a word, but I knew she was praying for me. I felt hurt and deeply ashamed. No words passed between us, yet in that silent moment, there was truth. I finally realized that alcohol had become the problem in my life, and I was powerless to overcome it on my own. It was a moment of surrender and desperation—the jumping-off place where I knew I could no longer live with alcohol, yet I had no idea how to live without it.

For the first time in many years, I cried out to God for help.  I did not want to drink anymore, and that thought stayed with me throughout the rest of that day.  When I woke the next morning, the same resolve remained. That evening, May 11, 1976, I went to my first AA meeting. I have not had a drink since.

Looking back, it seems more than a coincidence that my last day of drinking fell so close to Mother’s Day. My mother’s love and a simple prayer offered on that afternoon in 1976 became part of the turning point that changed the entire course of my life.  I don’t pretend that one prayer alone kept me sober. AA, the Twelve Steps, the fellowship, my sponsors, and a growing faith in God all became part of my recovery. But I will never forget seeing my mother praying for me when I came home that afternoon. That image has stayed with me for fifty years.

I remain deeply grateful to a loving God, to AA, to the fellowship, and to the simple wisdom that I only have to live life one day at a time.

It works if you work it.

Thank you, Mom. Thank you, AA. And thank you, my loving God.

And to all the mothers who have prayed for children they could not help themselves: Happy Mother’s Day.

Call Your Sponsor

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Call Your Sponsor Before You Drink

Call Your SponsorIn the North Atlanta area, where I lived for more than thirty years, many AA groups hand out a shiny aluminum beginner’s chip. On the back it reads: “Call your sponsor before—not after—you take the first drink.”

That is wise advice. Yet, judging by the number of chips handed to people coming back, I sometimes wonder how many ever read the message—or even have a sponsor to call.

You don’t have to relapse to prove you are an alcoholic. Over the years, AA has taught me that recovery is not a do-it-yourself project. Simply attending meetings is not the same as working a program. Recovery means committing ourselves to the Twelve Steps and practicing them honestly, even when they make us uncomfortable. And if we are honest, most of us know exactly which steps those are.

Sobriety is not about working only on the easy and comfortable parts of the program. That is the fantasy of the alcoholic mind. We are people who have spent years avoiding pain, resisting reality, and chasing relief. If alcoholics could design “happy hour,” it would last twenty-four hours a day.

My own experience with relapse taught me something painful but important: no relapse is truly spontaneous. Looking back, every drunk was planned long before the first drink was poured. The decision began in my thinking—in isolation, rationalization, and drifting away from the things that kept me sober. By the grace of God, I made it back to AA long enough to learn that lesson. I have no desire to play Russian roulette with my life just to see whether “this time” might somehow be different.

Relapse is not a harmless detour. The consequences may vary from person to person, but the direction is tragically predictable. Some lose jobs, some lose families, some lose hope—and far too many never make it back to the rooms at all.

At the same time, I have watched many friends in AA endure terrible hardships in sobriety. They suffered losses, heartbreak, fear, depression, loneliness, and uncertainty. Yet they did the right things anyway. They went to meetings, called their sponsors, shared honestly, cried openly, and reached out for help. And through it all, they did not drink.

Those people are my heroes.

They showed me that recovery is worth fighting for and that life is worth living, even on the hard days. I have heard them speak in meetings, and I have watched others remember their words years later because those stories helped save their own lives. These men and women became my new family. They proved to me that I never have to pick up a drink again, even when my mind tells me there are no other choices left.

So yes—if my world falls apart today, I will still pick myself up and go to a meeting. And yes, I will call my sponsor before I call the liquor store.

“But for the grace of God, there go I.”

More Than A Coincidence

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More Than a Coincidence

The turn of events in this story was more than a coincidence.

I think about an interesting incident that happened during my last weekend of drinking. A bartender from another bar I frequented came into the bar just before closing time. It was probably around 3 AM when he told me that another bartender I knew had been sober in AA for two years but was going off the wagon that night.

I knew the man. He had worked as a bartender in another bar I used to frequent. He was opinionated, sarcastic, and, frankly, not an easy person to like. Still, I felt sorry for him. At the time, I didn’t understand much about alcoholism or what it meant to be a dry drunk. I only knew that he had been sober for two years and was drinking again.

Going on and off the wagon seemed commonplace in the bars I frequented. There was a general belief among drinkers that whenever someone really wanted to stop drinking, all it took was a little willpower. We didn’t understand alcoholism, and most of us certainly didn’t understand AA.

The Next Day

The interesting part of this story is what happened the next day. That day became my last day of drinking. And guess who I called? I called AA Intergroup to find out where I could attend a meeting.

I had no preconceived idea about AA as a solution to my drinking problem. I had never been to a meeting. I knew very little about the program. Yet the night before, someone had casually mentioned AA to me while I was sitting in a bar at three in the morning. The very next day, I was looking for an AA meeting.

After many years around AA, I don’t think that is an odd story. I’ve heard too many stories of seemingly unrelated events coming together at just the right moment. I can’t chalk it up to luck or coincidence. For me, it was simply too much to explain.

I believe God’s grace is always there. Sometimes we just have to open our eyes and ears enough to recognize it. I am truly blessed, as so many of us are.

And there is one more part of the story worth telling. That other bartender eventually returned to AA, sobered up, and had a terrific story to share about his own recovery.

Looking back, I can only say, thank you, God.

Stay For Coffee Cake

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Stay for Coffee, Cake, and Good AA

Stay for Coffee Cake and Good AA

“Stay for coffee, cake, and good AA” was a phrase I heard at nearly every meeting I attended in early sobriety. For a newcomer, those words created a powerful sense of fellowship—something I’m not sure those who attend only online meetings today can fully experience. I could see it, hear it, and feel it. The warmth and welcome were tangible. More than anything, the invitation encouraged us to come out of isolation and become part of the fellowship.

Before the meeting began, people often talked about “the meeting before the meeting.” The conversation wasn’t all about AA. We had coffee, cake, maybe a doughnut, and plenty of easy conversation about sobriety, sports, or simply life. Those informal moments offered a gentle and genuine way to draw newcomers into the fellowship of recovery. 

 

After the closing prayer, someone would inevitably say, “Help clean up, put the chairs away, and stay for coffee, cake, and good AA.” Then everyone gathered again. We refilled our coffee cups, shared whatever sweets remained, and continued talking. Those moments gave us another opportunity to connect. Someone might continue a conversation from the meeting, while another person might reach out to a newcomer who was still finding his or her way.  Many of those conversations continued after the room emptied. We carried them into the parking lot or over to a nearby coffee shop.

The cake never really mattered.  

Fellowship mattered. That spiritual bond grew stronger when people in recovery spent time together, listened to one another, and helped one another. Those gatherings gave you a feeling that you were wanted and needed. Meeting time became something to look forward to—a very special part of the day.

Looking back, those simple moments rank among the best experiences of my sobriety and, in many ways, among the best moments of my life. They marked my emergence from isolation and loneliness into something new and deeply meaningful.

I came into AA needing to stop drinking, but I found something more than sobriety.  What I found was people who mattered; I found fellowship, and I found a place where I belonged.

For those gifts, I will always be grateful.

What if Your Ass Falls Off

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Even If Your Ass Falls Off, Don’t Drink—Take It to a Meeting

In Case of Emergancy Break GlassOne of the best lines I heard in early AA was, “Even if your ass falls off, don’t drink. Pick it up and take it to a meeting.”  At first, I thought it was funny. But there were days in early sobriety when things were raw and painful, and all I felt like doing was sulking. I was experiencing new emotions and new situations that I had never learned how to deal with without alcohol. Fear, anger, loneliness, uncertainty, and frustration could arrive without warning. Sometimes they felt like emergencies, and I wanted immediate relief.

Those moments could become so heavy that they tempted me toward the only safe haven I had ever known—a drink. That is where the old saying became more than just a funny line. “Even if your ass falls off, don’t drink. Pick it up and take it to a meeting.” To me, it was like a fire extinguisher encased in glass.

In case of emergency, break glass!

The message was simple: Don’t drink. Get to a meeting. Tell somebody what you’re going through. It was a lifesaver.

Thank God, I didn’t want to drink. But not wanting to drink didn’t mean I automatically knew how to deal with the pain. That was one of the lessons I had to learn in early sobriety. Alcohol had always been my solution—or at least what I thought was my solution. Without it, I had to learn new ways of handling life.
That is where AA became so important to me. Sometimes the answer wasn’t complicated. I didn’t need to understand everything that was happening inside me. I didn’t need to solve tomorrow’s problems. I needed to get through today. Sometimes that meant getting myself to a meeting, sitting down, listening to someone share, and remembering that I wasn’t alone.

There were days when making it to the next 24 hours was the victory. I learned that anything that helps me make it across that 24-hour finish line is a winner and, in my opinion, a valuable tool. A slogan, a meeting, a sponsor, a phone call, a conversation with another alcoholic—whatever works without picking up a drink is worth using.

I am forever grateful for the slogans, the tools, the meetings, and the people in AA who helped me make it through another 24 hours. Sometimes sobriety isn’t about having all the answers.

Sometimes it’s simply about picking yourself up, getting yourself to a meeting, and not taking the first drink.

Finding A Higher Power

Posted on by Jim C.

Finding a Higher Power in AA

Recovery is not a single moment when we suddenly understand how to stop drinking and remain sober for the rest of our lives. That would be nice, but it is an alcoholic’s fantasy. In my experience, sobriety must be worked at and lived. There is a certain sweat equity in recovery.

A sponsor cannot guarantee sobriety, any more than a rehabilitation center can offer a money-back guarantee that we will never drink again. We have to participate in our own recovery.

Not every moment of a sober life can be spent in an A.A. meeting room. Meetings are safe places to learn, listen, and share, but our perils and fears often wait just outside the door. Life is the other twenty-three hours of the day—the time when we must live the program. Those are the hours when we face employment, finances, relationships, illness, and all the unexpected turns life can take.

So how do we stay sober when things go sideways or when we are at a loss for direction? Do we call our sponsor or someone on our friends list? Certainly. But what happens when no one is available and we need guidance immediately?

In my own sobriety, this became a fact of life—and one of the everyday lessons of recovery. It is easy to stay sober when everything is going smoothly. Anyone can navigate calm waters. But what happens when the waters become turbulent, whether because of something unexpected or something we knew was coming?

At the end of “How It Works,” the A.B.C.s sum it up:

  1. That we were alcoholic and could not manage our own lives.
  2. That probably no human power could have relieved our alcoholism.
  3. That God could and would if He were sought.

At such times, we have to ask ourselves, “What is standing between me and the next drink?” Is it a sponsor, a meeting, a copy of the Big Book, or a personal relationship with the God or Higher Power of our own understanding?

Moments of Grace

I had to ask myself that question early in sobriety. Sometimes the answer came in a simple moment of realization: my Higher Power had already carried me through many storms. The events themselves may have been difficult to explain, yet I sensed His presence and direction. At other times, a solution shared in a meeting profoundly changed the course of my life. Such moments are plentiful and powerful in A.A.

In A.A., we regularly see and hear about miracles in the lives of others. We hear testimony and honest sharing. We witness people who once could not see a way forward begin to recognize hope; we watch those who were hopeless and downtrodden rise from what seemed like bottomless pits; and we hear people who once could not accept help begin to listen to solutions that can heal their lives. To me, that is evidence of God at work—making possible what once seemed impossible.

Sometimes finding a Higher Power of our own understanding is simple. As the Big Book suggests, it may even be the faith of our youth. It need not come from an exhaustive search through the world’s religions. More often, finding that Higher Power begins with a simple acknowledgment: He is there, and He was always there. My awareness of Him had been blocked by my disease, my pride, and my unwillingness to let go of self-centeredness.

“There is a principle which is a bar against all information, which is proof against all arguments and which cannot fail to keep a man in everlasting ignorance—that principle is contempt prior to investigation.”

—Herbert Spencer, quoted in Appendix II, “Spiritual Experience,” Alcoholics Anonymous

The Drink Takes the Man

Posted on by Jim C.

A Man Takes a Drink, a Drink Takes a Drink, the Drink Takes the Man

Today’s Slogan: Old Asian Saying — “A man takes a drink, a drink takes a drink, the drink takes the man.”  When I first heard this old proverb at an AA meeting from an old-timer in early sobriety, it rang so true. Drinking is a story of progression. I never set out in life to have a problem with alcohol. Who does? All I wanted from alcohol was relief from my social awkwardness, shyness, blushing, anxiety, and fears. When I drank, why would I worry about low self-esteem or a poor self-image? At the time, alcohol seemed like the greatest thing that had ever happened to me—and, I suppose, I wasn’t alone in feeling that way.

Progression of Alcoholism

But there was another side to the story. The more I believed alcohol was the cure, the more I consumed. If a little was good, more should be better. Right? Wrong.  The progressive nature of my drinking was that the more I consumed, the worse I felt afterward.  Drinking alcohol was like feeding an anorexic piranha; it could never be satisfied. My aversion to alcohol wasn’t because of hangovers, which I rarely had. It was the growing feeling of being ill at ease. Despite increasing quantities, alcohol no longer worked the way I wanted it to.

Craziness, bad situations, and stupid things began to become regular occurrences. As a result, anxiety, fear, and regret started to rule the day. That was not what I had bargained for. The progression of my drinking, combined with an obsession with alcohol and then a compulsion to have more, was like being sold into slavery one drink at a time. None of this was part of my plan. All I wanted was to have some fun and not feel socially awkward.

During my first 90 days of recovery in 1976, I heard this phrase shared at an AA meeting. At one point, I also heard that alcoholism was a disease and an allergy. That made a lot of sense to me, and I began to see alcohol differently. From then on, I no longer looked at it as the solution to life’s problems or an answer to uncomfortable emotions. I never forgot that simple lesson.

I was truly blessed to hear people in recovery share the exact things I needed to hear. Their experiences confirmed in my mind that I was in the right place. In AA, I found my life and my people through the grace of a loving God and the fellowship of others in recovery.