SHAME WAS EATING ME ALIVE

There was a time when I felt absolutely horrible about myself.

The self-loathing and disgust I felt toward the person I had become were ripping me apart from the inside. I had no idea how to fix it. I honestly believed I was evil at my core and would eventually die a miserable, lonely soul.

I shared constantly in AA. I didn’t share all the details of my past during meetings because that isn’t what meetings are for. I can explain that in another post. But I did talk about how much I hated myself and how I never felt like I belonged.

What I didn’t tell anyone was that I thought I was ugly. I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror without feeling disgusted.

At the time, I had two sponsors, I was going to therapy, and I was making a meeting every night. That’s one of the benefits of getting sober on Long Island—there is certainly no shortage of alcoholics or AA meetings around here. 😁

Eventually, I began telling my sponsors how I really felt.

My favorite sponsor, Bob—may he rest in peace—suggested that I go with him to a retreat at Group 54 in Sag Harbor.

Man, I haven’t been there in what feels like a hundred years, but I can still see that place when I close my eyes. It was a beautiful old whaling house right on the water, widow’s walk and all. I believe it had been donated to the church and turned into a retreat house.

The priest leading the retreat was also an alcoholic, and he gave a talk about shame.

I couldn’t tell you exactly what he said today, but somehow, he got through to me.

I finally understood that guilt and shame were not the same thing.

Guilt told me I had done something wrong.

Shame told me that I was wrong—that something was rotten inside me and always would be.

That shame was what had been eating me alive.

I let go of a tremendous amount of baggage that weekend. I spoke honestly with the priest, my sponsor, and the other men who were there with us. It became one of those defining moments in my sobriety when, maybe for the first time, everything felt like it might actually be okay.

I knew I was going to be okay.

But none of that would have happened without the willingness to stay sober and remain teachable. It wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t been willing to take direction and do the things people suggested—even the things I didn’t want to do or thought sounded stupid.

I needed to be cleansed of what I had been carrying. I needed to tell another person what I had done, how I felt about it, and what it had done to me.

I also knew that if I wanted to stay sober, I couldn’t keep doing the AA Waltz:

One, two, three, drink.

One, two, three, drink.

Never getting to Steps Four and Five would have been devastating for me. I needed to stop hiding, take an honest inventory, and allow another human being to see the person I was so certain could never be accepted.

And then something remarkable happened.

I discovered that I was still worthy of love.

I’m grateful that I had men in my life who told me the truth. I’m grateful I was able to put my pride aside and do what was necessary to build a sober, happy life.

I’m turning 60 this year. I got sober when I was 21. I’m still sober, and every single promise has come true for me.

I think maybe AA had something to do with it. 😁

soberthroughtheyears.com

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