7.23.25
One of the many things I love about AA is that everyone—or at least most everyone—understands just how hard it is to stay sober. Not just every day, but sometimes every damn minute. People are compassionate, sympathetic, and empathetic when someone relapses. Whether it’s been a day, a week, a month, a year, or even longer, they are always welcomed back with open arms. There’s always a seat waiting. All they have to do is come back.
I got to witness that kind of grace tonight, and it was beautiful.
Under the lash of alcoholism, we’re driven to AA. There, we come face-to-face with the fatal nature of our condition. Only then do we become as open-minded and willing to listen as the dying can be. We stand ready to do anything—anything—that might lift the merciless obsession from us. Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, Step One.
That lash feels like a leather whip across your skin. Like the whiplash from a seatbelt when your car hits something hard. Like the sting of a tongue lashing from someone you love.
When I truly took the First Step, I knew AA was where I belonged—where I needed to be. I don’t ever want to relapse again. Admitting that was freeing. There’s a peace inside me now I never thought I’d feel again.
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