We Have Built-In Forgetters

I used to ask my sponsor, "Why do you guys keep repeating the same shit over and over again? It's so annoying."

The answer was always the same:

"Because we have built-in forgetters."

We forget the pain and torment we put ourselves through as soon as we begin to feel better.

That is why we hear the same things repeatedly.

Don't drink.

Go to meetings.

Get a sponsor.

Call your sponsor every day.

When I first came into AA, I could talk myself into drinking in a heartbeat. It didn't take much before I said, "Fuck it."

"Fuck it" was probably my favorite phrase.

I used it whenever I was angry, uncomfortable, embarrassed, frustrated, disappointed, or simply didn't feel like dealing with life.

"Fuck it" gave me permission to do whatever I wanted without considering what would happen afterward.

The people in AA knew how quickly an alcoholic mind could turn a bad moment into a logical reason to drink. That is why they pounded the suggestions into our heads.

They told us to call someone every day so that when the phone suddenly felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, we would already be used to picking it up.

There were plenty of times when I didn't make the call because I believed I could handle things myself.

Sometimes everything worked out.

Sometimes, not so much.

What I didn't mess around with was drinking or drugging. If I felt like drinking or using drugs, I made the call or went to a meeting.

They told us time and time again that something heavy and troubling gets cut in half when we talk about it.

I can honestly say I never regretted making the phone call.

I have come to believe that human beings are not meant to do this thing called life alone.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with asking for help.

All that stuff about being tough, pulling yourself up by your bootstraps, and dealing with everything on your own sounds great. There are certainly times when we need to stand up and handle our responsibilities.

But we also need to realize that help is available.

That isn't only true for alcoholics. It's true for everyone.

There is no good reason, in my humble opinion, why we shouldn't ask for help when we need it.

Shame, guilt, and that nasty little word called pride convince us to isolate.

Isolation is a dangerous place for an alcoholic or drug addict.

Left alone inside our own heads, we can convince ourselves that we're brilliant and everyone else is wrong. We can build a perfect argument for doing exactly what we know we shouldn't do.

Then—bam—we're shitfaced in a ditch somewhere with no understanding of how we got there.

I don't have one glaring story about a time when I should have made a phone call and either did or didn't.

What I have are decades of moments when calling someone or going to a meeting helped me walk through whatever life placed in front of me.

The clearest example happened when my mom died.

I made some phone calls, and I went to a meeting.

My sponsor listened to me and then said, "You should speak at tonight's meeting."

I looked at him like he was insane.

"What? I can't even stop crying."

I spoke that night anyway.

I stood in front of the room, bawled my eyes out, and told everyone what a special woman my mother had been.

I would love to tell you that I remember exactly what I said.

I don't.

What I remember is how it felt.

I don't believe there has been another moment in my life when I felt so vulnerable and so loved at the same time.

I wasn't hiding my pain. I wasn't pretending to be strong. I wasn't trying to hold myself together so everyone would think I had this sobriety thing figured out.

I was a grieving son who had just lost his mother.

The people in that room allowed me to be exactly that.

Speaking didn't take away the grief. It didn't bring my mother back or suddenly make everything okay.

It made certain that I didn't have to carry the pain alone.

I'm sure I helped someone in that room that night.

I'm also sure I helped myself.

That is the strange beauty of AA. We walk into a room believing we have nothing to offer because our own lives feel like they're falling apart. Then we speak honestly about what we're experiencing, and someone else hears exactly what they need.

Sometimes the person helping the room is the one who can barely get the words out.

So yes, we repeat ourselves in AA.

We talk about the thousand-pound phone again.

We tell newcomers to attend meetings again.

We remind people to get a sponsor and ask for help again.

We say "one day at a time" for the ten-thousandth time.

We repeat these things because we forget.

We forget how quickly "I'm doing better" can become "I can handle this alone."

We forget how easily pride becomes isolation.

We forget how quickly "Fuck it" can become the first drink.

And sometimes we forget that there may come a day when the phone call or meeting isn't about wanting to drink at all.

It may be about losing your mother and having no idea how you're supposed to survive the pain.

That is why we practice reaching out before the crisis arrives.

We pick up the phone when it weighs five pounds so we know how to lift it when it weighs a thousand.