THE 500-POUND PHONE

When I first walked into AA, I was angry and twisted.

I didn’t want to get sober. I just wanted to feel better, and I had absolutely no idea what that meant or what it would require.

After spending 90 days in rehab, I gave sobriety a half-assed effort. I didn’t listen to the people trying to help me. I did things my way.

Then I drank again.

Long story short, I woke up with my head hanging over a garbage pail because I was throwing up uncontrollably.

Again.

I called my sponsor and told him what had happened.

“Get to a meeting,” he said.

“I’m too sick.”

He hung up on me.

Most of the men I knew in AA back then had zero tolerance for bullshit. Either you wanted to stay sober or you could go waste somebody else’s time.

After that last drunk, I was scared.

I didn’t want to die, but I knew that was exactly what would happen if I continued drinking.

I threw up all day and went to a meeting that night.

I was incredibly sick. I regularly drank so much that my body eventually rejected the alcohol. Looking back, I was probably experiencing alcohol poisoning more than once.

I landed in the hospital several times because of it. The previous year, I had even ruptured my esophagus.

That was a pleasant experience.

I am extremely fortunate to be alive.

By then, I understood that I wasn’t going to survive if I continued drinking. All I wanted was to stop throwing up. If that required meetings, phone calls and following directions, then so be it.

Fear finally made me willing.

After that last drunk, I listened.

I did practically everything people suggested, and one of the tools I learned to use most was the telephone.

We were told to pick up the phone every day and call another alcoholic.

We were also told to carry dimes in our pockets in case things became difficult while we were away from home. Back then, staying connected might require finding a pay phone and hoping you had enough change.

Naturally, we questioned why we needed to call someone every day when nothing was wrong.

The answer was always the same:

“You make the call every day so that when you really need help, picking up the phone won’t feel so difficult.”

It made sense when I stopped arguing long enough to think about it.

So that is what I did.

I called people every day and blabbered on about my life. Some days I had something important to say. Other days I probably had nothing to say at all.

The subject of the call wasn’t always the point.

The connection was.

We were constantly reminded that AA is an action program.

Move a muscle, change a thought.

That could mean going to a meeting, helping a newcomer, picking up the phone, greeting people at the door, cleaning up after the meeting or giving someone a ride.

It meant doing whatever I could to help someone or something other than myself.

The strange part was that every time I helped someone else, it helped me more than I could possibly understand at the time.

My original sober date was December 1, 1987.

After doing things my way and drinking again, it changed to January 23, 1988.

That was the last time I drank alcohol.

It was also the beginning of this incredible journey.

I’m grateful for everyone who was there to help me. I’m grateful for the people who showed me that long-term sobriety was possible, even when I didn’t believe it was possible for me.

That 500-pound telephone eventually became one of the tools that saved both my sanity and my life.

I have watched technology change tremendously over nearly 39 years.

We no longer need to carry dimes in our pockets. Almost everyone has a telephone within reach every minute of the day.

We can call or text another alcoholic from practically anywhere. We can search for a meeting in seconds. We can attend one online without leaving the house. We can join sober groups and connect with people around the world.

There is an entire sober community at our fingertips.

No more hunting for a pay phone.

No more checking our pockets for change.

And somehow, we still hear the same bullshit excuses. 🤣

Getting sober isn’t easy. Staying sober requires continued attention and action. Alcoholism will happily isolate us, lie to us and convince us that nobody understands.

We have been given tools that can ease the pain of that process and carry us through the moments when our own thinking becomes dangerous.

Use them.

Pick up the phone every day and make the call.

Text your sober friends and stay connected.

Attend meetings in person. Join sober groups online. Help somebody else. Allow somebody else to help you.

Don’t wait until the crisis becomes unmanageable.

Don’t let alcoholism sit comfortably in the darkness of your isolation.

Shine a light on it.

Then drown that fucker out.