YOU'RE NOT GETTING MARRIED—JUST ASK SOMEONE

I was extremely apprehensive about asking for help when I first came into AA.

But as I've said before, pain is the great motivator.

Pain will get just about anyone to start working this program. It may take longer for some of us because we're stubborn and convinced we know better, but eventually the pain becomes greater than the fear of asking for help.

Walking up to someone and asking for their phone number was not easy for me.

My brain immediately created all kinds of possibilities.

What if they say no?

What if I embarrass myself?

What if they think I'm an idiot?

What if they don't like me?

Most of those humiliating situations never happened. They were monsters I created inside my own head.

So, ignore the monster and ask for the number.

Years later, when it became my turn to help people and possibly sponsor someone, a whole new collection of mind-torturing scenarios started rattling around inside my brain.

Because God forbid I simply leave myself alone and help another human being without first imagining every disastrous thing that might happen. 🤣

What if I say the wrong thing?

What if I don't know the answer?

What if this person drinks?

What if I'm not sober, spiritual, or wise enough?

One of the biggest things I've learned over the years is that we are all human.

Yes, we are alcoholics. Many of us are also drug addicts. We certainly have issues that need to be addressed.

But if the fucked-up thing you did has a name, it has been done it before.

There aren't too many people inventing completely new categories of fucked-up behavior.

Someone in those rooms has probably experienced it, survived it, and may be willing to sit beside you while you work your way through it.

The real challenge is learning how to be vulnerable.

That applies whether you're a newcomer who needs a sponsor or someone with time who feels the need to start helping others.

You don't have to possess all the answers.

You just have to be willing to show up.

I've found that people will usually come to you when they see something in your sobriety that they want.

Of course, people also choose sponsors who may not be exactly all there.

To each his own.

Let your freak flag fly. Just stay sober. 🤣

For me, the magic key—the closest thing I've ever found to a silver bullet—is not taking the first drink.

Everything else has a chance to work itself out as long as I follow that one simple rule:

Do not pick up the first drink.

My sponsor used to tell me that I could be useful to someone who had only a few days less than I did.

He explained that someone with a week might look at a person with two weeks and wonder how they did it. Someone with 30 days could feel much more reachable than someone with ten years.

People with years of sobriety can seem too far away to comprehend when you're struggling to get through the afternoon.

That made sense to me because I remembered feeling exactly that way.

I would hear that someone had a month and think, “Wow, that guy has an entire month.”

Then someone would celebrate 90 days, and I would think, “Holy shit. How did he do that?”

My sponsor had more than ten years sober. I looked at him in awe.

How the hell could anyone go ten years without drinking?

Eventually, I found out.

One day at a time.

Sometimes one hour at a time.

Occasionally, one minute at a time.

I still let my brain mess with me when it comes to helping people. I tell myself I should sound better. After all these years, I should possess some kind of super-wisdom that makes everyone stop and think, “Wow, that guy really has his shit together.” 🤣

It's mostly bullshit.

It's ego and pride wearing spiritual clothing.

I'm just another garden-variety alcoholic and drug addict trying to be a good human being on a daily basis.

If I can help someone along the way, that's fantastic. It's an incredible bonus.

The truth is, when we help other people, we often end up helping ourselves even more.

When I listen to people share or read some of the things people post online, I still think:

But for the grace of God, there go I.

I want no part of being batshit crazy again.

And that is exactly what I was.

I was completely batshit crazy and three-quarters dead when I first walked down those basement stairs.

I'm grateful the old-timers stayed and tried to help me. Without them, I probably wouldn't have made it.

They didn't perform a miracle in front of me. They didn't fix my entire life or provide answers to every problem.

They stayed.

They listened.

They gave me their phone numbers.

They showed me what sobriety looked like, one ordinary day at a time.

So, if you're new and need a sponsor, forget what your brain is telling you and ask someone.

You aren't getting married.

You're just finding another alcoholic you can talk to—someone who may be able to help you take the next step.

And please remember something important:

We are not therapists.

WE ARE NOT THERAPISTS.

Sponsors are alcoholics helping other alcoholics. There are problems that require trained professionals, and seeking professional help does not mean AA failed or that you're doing sobriety incorrectly.

There is no pope of AA issuing commands.

There is absolutely nothing you must do to become a member. The only requirement for membership is a desire to stop drinking.

I see plenty of bullshit online about AA.

It's a cult.

It brainwashes people.

It's a religious organization.

It's a wealthy organization controlling its members.

Yadda, yadda, yadda.

From my experience, that is all bullshit—and a convenient way for some people to remain sick and special.

AA isn't perfect because it is filled with human beings, and human beings are never perfect. I don't agree with everything every AA member says, and I certainly don't believe every sponsor knows what the hell they're talking about.

I've met assholes in AA.

I've also met some of the finest human beings I've ever known.

All I can tell you is what happened to me.

I walked into those rooms batshit crazy and three-quarters dead. People freely gave me their time, experience, and phone numbers. They taught me how to avoid the first drink and showed me that I didn't have to do this alone.

That was enough to get me through the next hour.

Eventually, those hours became a life.

And while I'm spewing, welcome to AA:

Once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic.

Yes, you can become a sober alcoholic. You can build a beautiful life. You can become dependable, trustworthy, useful, happy, and free.

But don't let anyone fool you into believing that one day, somehow, you will be able to safely drink again.

If you have crossed that threshold into alcoholism, there is no going back.

That idea is nonsense.

Okay. Rant over. 🤣

Now that I'm considered one of the old-timers, I realize I need to do more to help the newcomer.

I don't attend many meetings anymore.

Honestly, I should go more often.

I'm online every day. I write about sobriety, talk with people, and stay connected to recovery.

But it isn't the same.

The newcomer sitting in a folding chair doesn't need an old-timer hiding safely behind a computer screen. That person may need someone sitting beside them who remembers the smell of the cigarettes, the terror of the first day, and the feeling that life is never going to be okay again.

They may need a scrap of paper with a name and a phone number.

More importantly, they need to believe someone will answer when they call.

The old-timers did that for me.

After all these years, it may be time for me to spend a little more time returning the favor.