90 in 90
"We are undisciplined people" - so it says in the Big Book (also known as Alcoholics Anonymous), our Bible/the Big Big Book.
Guess that would explain why, since 1988 when I first started coming around the program I've never been able to go to 90 meetings in 90 days as suggested by sponsors, strongly suggested by rehab program directors, and often, with a sharp-edged tongue by other members in the fellowship: "If you jump out of a plane, it is strongly suggested that you have a parachute."
Despite my years of sobriety, I have never been able or willing to attend 90 meetings in 90 days.
I've been sober for quite awhile now and yet cannot do that in a row.
I envy the newcomers through the years that I've seen that do it without blinking an eye.
I've always said I need to be one of those people who need to get a piece of paper signed like so many on probation or parole have to, to prove they were at a meeting. Then I would be forced to attend 90 in 90.
Because then I wouldn't have a choice. I'd have to attend 90 meetings in 90 days.
I've never been one of those people who loved or even liked to attend meetings.
That never happened to me.
I also was never one of those people who walked in the door and felt like I fit right in.
I never fit in in AA.
I was an outcast even in the program.
And when you're dually diagnosed it's even worse.
People look at you like you have two heads.
It's a horribly lonely feeling.
But, my sponsor has always pointed out to me that alcoholism is also a mental illness so none of these people should be judging me.
Yet they do.
And it's painful.
It doesn't make me want to go to meetings.
It doesn't make me want to stay sober.
But I have too much to lose now.
I'd be an idiot to drink again.
I've attended too many funerals of people who have thrown it all away.
I have a daughter out there who I see two to three times a year and I'm not willing to throw it all away to see the expression on her face of utter disappointment and to risk not being able to see her again.
I'm always baffled at how many people will throw it all away in an instant.
But that is how this disease is.
Cunning, baffling, and powerful.
I've seen it take down many people.
People that I never thought would throw in the towel. Some of these people had not much time, some had a lot of time.
I've seen people die quickly and slowly. And all because they forgot where they came from.
I never want to forget.
I can never let the judgment of a bunch of drunks bring me down.
I haven't so far.
I've been through too much to stop now.
So, I may never achieve the 90 in 90, though I know it would make me a better person, a more spiritual person. It would secure my sobriety tighter than it ever has or ever will.
But, every day I don't let them kick the dirt in my face is a better day and I have a shot at moving past them.
Today I want to move past my history instead of letting it define me.
That wasn't the case until recently.
And for that I am freer than I ever have been in my life.
That only took 47 years, huh?
Guess that would explain why, since 1988 when I first started coming around the program I've never been able to go to 90 meetings in 90 days as suggested by sponsors, strongly suggested by rehab program directors, and often, with a sharp-edged tongue by other members in the fellowship: "If you jump out of a plane, it is strongly suggested that you have a parachute."
Despite my years of sobriety, I have never been able or willing to attend 90 meetings in 90 days.
I've been sober for quite awhile now and yet cannot do that in a row.
I envy the newcomers through the years that I've seen that do it without blinking an eye.
I've always said I need to be one of those people who need to get a piece of paper signed like so many on probation or parole have to, to prove they were at a meeting. Then I would be forced to attend 90 in 90.
Because then I wouldn't have a choice. I'd have to attend 90 meetings in 90 days.
I've never been one of those people who loved or even liked to attend meetings.
That never happened to me.
I also was never one of those people who walked in the door and felt like I fit right in.
I never fit in in AA.
I was an outcast even in the program.
And when you're dually diagnosed it's even worse.
People look at you like you have two heads.
It's a horribly lonely feeling.
But, my sponsor has always pointed out to me that alcoholism is also a mental illness so none of these people should be judging me.
Yet they do.
And it's painful.
It doesn't make me want to go to meetings.
It doesn't make me want to stay sober.
But I have too much to lose now.
I'd be an idiot to drink again.
I've attended too many funerals of people who have thrown it all away.
I have a daughter out there who I see two to three times a year and I'm not willing to throw it all away to see the expression on her face of utter disappointment and to risk not being able to see her again.
I'm always baffled at how many people will throw it all away in an instant.
But that is how this disease is.
Cunning, baffling, and powerful.
I've seen it take down many people.
People that I never thought would throw in the towel. Some of these people had not much time, some had a lot of time.
I've seen people die quickly and slowly. And all because they forgot where they came from.
I never want to forget.
I can never let the judgment of a bunch of drunks bring me down.
I haven't so far.
I've been through too much to stop now.
So, I may never achieve the 90 in 90, though I know it would make me a better person, a more spiritual person. It would secure my sobriety tighter than it ever has or ever will.
But, every day I don't let them kick the dirt in my face is a better day and I have a shot at moving past them.
Today I want to move past my history instead of letting it define me.
That wasn't the case until recently.
And for that I am freer than I ever have been in my life.
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