Belonging Is the Cure for the Ache No Bottle Could Ever Reach – Joyce P.

Let's have an AA meeting. My name is Jackie, and I'm an alcoholic. Welcome to the Monday night Blue Chip Speaker meeting at the NAVA Club, where a member of Alcoholics Anonymous with one year or more of sobriety tells his or her story. Kat, I'm an alcoholic. So I get the pleasure of introducing our speaker tonight. It's Joyce, and she lives up in Blue Ridge. Um, the first time I met her, I was very intimidated by her. But I ended up going to the gals convention, um, this past year, uh, with her and a couple of other people. And I was able to sit down and just have this really long conversation with her. And she's the sweetest, most loving person that I have, one of them, that I have in my network today. And just a quick plug, anybody that likes candles, she makes some excellent candles. Yeah. And I'm sure she might have some in the car. Um, but anyway, I give you Joyce. I love you very much. Can't wait to meet you. Thank you, Kat. My name's Joyce, and I'm an alcoholic. Thank you. Um, thank y'all for having me. And before I start, I have two things that I read every time I tell my story. The first one invites the God of my understanding to be here with me, as I have done, on my knees, in that bathroom, three times here at Nava, and I just did that, um, to pray for his message and not my message. But the first thing that I read helps me to get centered on what I'm doing here and what my purpose is up here, as Kat just read. Um, this one's in the 12 and 12. Lord, make me a channel of thy peace, that where there is hatred, I may bring love, that where there is wrong, I may bring the spirit of forgiveness, that where there is discord, I may bring harmony. Amen. That where there is error, I may bring truth, that where there is a doubt, I may bring faith, that where there is despair, I may bring hope, that where there are shadows, I may bring light, that where there is sadness, I may bring joy. Lord, grant that I may seek rather to comfort than to be comforted, to understand than to be understood, to love than to be loved. For it is by self-forgiving that one finds, it is by forgiving that one is forgiven, it is by dying that one awakens to eternal life. Amen. And that's the prayer of St. Francis. Um, and then I have something I read when I finish, and hopefully, hopefully we'll get something out of this, because it's God's message and not my message. But, um, if you don't, then I'll read something at the end that, for me, describes what the program of Alcoholics Anonymous has done in my life. Um, thank you, Tim, for having me, for inviting me. I have not spoken here at NAVA in a few years, and, um, this was the... I was telling Gail before the meeting, this was the first sober dance I ever went to was here, at the NAVA club. And does anybody other than Tim know exactly what NAVA stands for? Somebody say it. The North Atlanta Benevolent Association. That's right. When I heard that, when I got sober, I thought, I don't know what benevolent meant. But it's down in Ridge. The North Atlanta Benevolent Association. Okay, then. Can we go in there? Yeah, they're having a dance. Really? All right, then. I came in. The girl I drank with in the bars was playing the drums over there in the band, and we danced the night away. It was a fun night. Um, I grew up at Biscayne. Coming to NAVA, for me, is like going to visit your cousins. You know, like, you had people that kind of wandered back and forth. But this is where the rest of the family went, and the immediate family went to Biscayne. So we'd come over here to NAVA to visit the cousins. So that's kind of what I feel like when I come here. Um, I'm welcome, and I know where the food's at, but don't go to sleep. Y'all live here. Um, don't get too comfortable around here. You can go back there for Biscayne where they left anybody gone. Um, I grew up in South Atlanta, in East Point. My daddy ran the motor pool at Fort Mac for 32 years. And I grew up holding a light under the hood of a car. Watching him work. And loved that man more than I've ever loved anybody. Um, trusted him more than I ever trusted anybody. My mother worked for the arrow shirt company when we all got big enough to, that they could go to work. She was a housewife until then. And had two sisters, one older, one younger. And we just were middle class, regular folks. You know, when, the way that I grew up, we didn't know, we didn't have, like, poor people and rich people and middle people. You know, there was a, my friend at school, in elementary school, her daddy owned a gas station. So we knew they had a little bit more than we did. But we didn't know how much, and we didn't care. And we knew that there were families that needed help. And other families would go in and help that family. So, I didn't have the kind of, um, the kind of knowledge that I have today of the extremes that life can take us. And I've been in both of them. Um, but I was a happy kid. Little kid. I, um, I was a tomboy, you can believe it. I've always had this cheerleader look, you know. I liked to play with my Hot Wheels. And I had a rocking horse that my daddy got me when he adopted me. I was 18 months old. And he said, you just kept saying I wanted a hoey and a horse. And he got me one. And my daddy did that for the rest of his life. Anything I needed, he made sure I had it. Um, but I was, you know, pretty happy. I played outside all the time, me and the boys in the neighborhood. And, um, I was going to marry Gary Holland until we found out we had to take baths. So we decided not to get married. And, uh, we just played. I had a 40-year class reunion this year. And I got reunited with my friend Susan that I hadn't seen since we were kids. And seeing her, though, it was just like not a day, you know. I loved that kid so much when I was a kid. And I was telling her a story. She had no remembrance of it. But my mother always told us, if you steal, you go tell. Well, I didn't know yet that I was alcoholic. You know, we test everything. So I wanted to find out if that's for real. So Susan had this pretty little, cute little girly girl. And she had these little teacup things. You know, little teacups that you have to sit down there and drink and all that stuff. You know, I'd ride my tractor down there and do that with her. And, um, she was real cute. Anyway, we, uh, we had little tea parties and stuff. Well, I stole the teacup. And I took it home and buried it in the yard. Well, I'm walking through the house one day and there's the police outside talking to my mama. I'm going to prison. I wasn't even in school together. You know? I got on underwear that my daddy bought for me. He thought he bought his little girl's underwear. He bought his boy's bathing suit. So he backed up and said, Don't call me. I'll call you. I was four years old there. But I saw this police outside. I ran down to Susan's house. I'm crying. I don't know your teacup. She took it back. She was like, whatever. You know? So that was my first lesson in stealing things. Come to find out, it was just some cop. He knew my parents. He stopped to say hello and went on his way. I wasn't going to prison. Or work. Um. But. On that same street. And I think I remember the most about that particular friend. And my other friend Donna when we moved. She and I were Martians. And um. I remember everything about us going to Mars. And XL2 and XL1. And our leader was XL5. And all this stuff. And I remember all this stuff. Because it was before anything happened negative in my life. It was all fun. Then. When Susan and I were friends. And I apologize for the whole sinus thing. I apologize for the whole sinus thing. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I apologize for the whole sinus thing. I've got. Um. I'm. I'm. I'm. I'm being a tomboy when I sound like a man up here. But. Um. It's real fancy. So. I'm trying to get it up a little bit. Um. Anyway. Um. I went. I would ride down to Susan's house. There's a mail box in front of her house. There's a big blue one. I don't know if y'all are old enough remember that. But the mail would get delivered. And he would pick up mail. That was wrapped in cord. Out of those blue mail boxes. The mail man. I had. And I had on full gear. I had a cowboy suit. And I rode down here with Gail Luthor and I. He's got two pretty hats in the back seat. I'm a cowboy hat person. I look good in a cowboy hat. Anyway, since I was a little kid. So I'd ride down there, have my guns and my hat and I'd hold this man up every day. I'd ride down there and this mailman I'd say, stick him up! And he'd put his hands up and he'd give me this cord off of the mail every day. I don't know who that man was and one day I'm going to be sharing it with him and he's going to be like I know who you are. You're that kid. I'm that kid. I remember those days. They were fun days. We moved and Donna and I met. We went to Mars together in a washing machine. We had a fun time. Found out where babies came from. Our bedrooms faced each other so we could scream out the window and meet in the bushes and find out things from each other. And we were trying to figure out about babies. So we were both raised in a church. My daddy was also a Baptist minister. So we were raised in a church and we knew they came from God and they came from heaven. But we couldn't figure out how they got in the hospital. Well, I found out. And I yelled out and run to the daughter and meet me in the bushes. I got it. So we meet in the bushes and she says, how did they get there? I said, a bird brings them. I could still see the look on that kid's face like what the hell? It's the stork. Y'all know the stork brings the babies, right? And she just looked at me like oh my God. I've been reunited with her too. Thank you, Facebook. Isn't that a beautiful thing when you can find these people? But those two people were best, best friends of mine as a small child. My little sister and I were always very close. My big sister and I were not close. When I turned about 13, my mother went into, I believe, went into menopause. And it changed her completely. And that happy house that we were growing up in turned into a very violent place to be. And, my mother beat the living hell out of me on a daily basis. And there were times I didn't know she was going to kill me. And I remember actually thinking, she can't kill you, Joyce. And then thinking, maybe she can kill me. I didn't know. You know. It was a horrible, horrible time. And I started running away from home. Nobody ever said, what are you running away from? Just, why are you running away? You were an unruly, bad child. And they sent me to juvenile. County juvenile for being bad. And for being unruly and unmanageable. That's what it said. And they sent me off to a girl's home. I was supposed to go live there for a while. And that didn't work out. I spent my 15th birthday in Colton County juvenile. It was, um, a hard time. You know, somebody asked me on the phone today, they were like, were you a badass in juvenile? Uh-uh. I wasn't bad at nothing. I was scared. You know, I was a little bitty kid. And I hooked up with this girl named Juanita. She was tough. Now, she was tough. You didn't mess with Juanita. So I stuck with her. And that six months that I spent there was the first conscious contact I had with the God of my understanding. I prayed all the time. And I felt the presence of God all the time. I was terrified in that place. Last year I found Juanita. Thank you, Facebook. I said, you may not remember me. She said, yes, I do. You know, she saved my life. Because she protected me all the time. When I had about, um, let's see, I must have had about ten years in the program. I went to work for Fulton County Juvenile with the detention center. I wanted to go there because I knew what it felt like to be that kid on the other side of that steel door. But I also knew what it felt like to be the adult and that there were rules and you do have to follow them. I still don't like them. But I get it, you know. Um, so that was a one of the gifts that sobriety gave me. But nobody ever asked me, what are you running from? And it was a horrible, horrible time. You know, until I was twenty-four years old. That's the avenue that my mother took. I remember, um, one time I was laying there in our den. I was laying on my daddy's bed or chair thing and she told me it was time to go to bed. It was like nine o'clock at night. I'm like, okay, whatever. I'm 23 years old. I'm going to bed when I'm going to bed. I didn't say that because you didn't say that to her. But I'm thinking it. And she literally came down and picked me up and threw me in my bed. And that's the first time I ever came back at her. And I stood up and I said, you will never put your hands on me again. Ever. And I got sober at twenty-four years old. I went to my first meeting when I was eighteen. I had wrecked a few cars. Um, I spent all my time in the bars when I was drinking. Um, I was kind of lit up at Cheshire Bridge. Um, when I was sixteen, I got kicked out of Hedlund High School in East Point and sent to College Park High School because somebody gave me some pills. I've never done any pills. Pills are part of my story. That's my story. I don't care about pills when I'm sitting at a table in an AA meeting. But this is my story. So this is how I got to you. Um, I took one of those before my sixth period. I took one after it. I passed out. The school principal came and woke me up. She's picking me up by my jacket. And I couldn't sleep. I don't know if I was blind or I didn't open my eyes. I don't know. I thought I was blind. I was freaking out. And, um, she said, you've got to, you need to come to the office. I said, I'll go home. My mom is waiting on me. She's sitting outside. She said, it's four o'clock. School's been out for an hour. I've been crashed out. So they sent me to College Park. There's no drugs at College Park High School. That's what they tell me. There's no drugs at College Park. Well, I had been raised, like I said, middle class white America. I was raised. College Park High School was not bad. I got over there. There was rednecks and black people. I'd never seen rednecks and I'd never seen black people. Because you didn't do that. You didn't talk to black people. I mean, we had my daddy's best friend at work. His name was Isaac. When my daddy got sick, Mr. Isaac was the first man at our door. But he didn't come in. And my daddy didn't go out. And that was the first time that I saw two men of different color and the same way to do the same thing. I thought it was all on my daddy's side. It wasn't. They were both raised the same way. You don't go into each other's houses and you don't physically touch. Weird to me. So I set off on that, too. That was a whole other story for another meeting because sex and sobriety is one of my favorite topics. That was another world. But anyway, that's what I saw. I didn't know. I had a lot of fear. I didn't know what prejudice was because I didn't know that's what to call it. But that's what I found out about. And thank you for Alcoholics Anonymous. And page 17. We are those that wouldn't ordinarily mix. What would we do without each other? I'd be lost. When I hear people today say I can't get sober at that meeting because they're all gay or they're straight or they're black or white or they're women or they're men. At the Easy Desert Group downtown across from the Capitol with mostly older straight black men. I had alcoholism in common with these men. They loved me. They taught me how to love me. They remembered my name. Leroy was at the door every time I went. He shook my hand. He remembered me. I've grown up in public with AA and I'm very grateful for that. But at Collins Park I met this girl and she said there was a bar we could all get in. Okay. I get Cindy's ID because I don't like Cindy. I don't care if she gets in trouble. I took Cindy's ID. And we all head to this bar. It was a sweet gum head. And it was behind an auto parts store. Oh, I see y'all back there. Oh yeah, I remember that. Y'all just aged yourself because it's been closed about 40 years. Anyway, I went in this sweet gum head and there was like women on the right, men on the left, ladies in the middle. And something I ain't never seen before on that dance floor. The tallest women I've ever seen in my life. Pretty women. I mean makeup, just unbelievable makeup. Very deep voices. I told my friend Leroy, I said, there's something wrong with these women. She's like, you're dumb. They're men. What? I've never been out of East Point. I don't know what I'm doing. I learned to drink real quick though. Man, give me something else. Where in the hell we at? But I'll tell you something. For the first time in my life and the second time was AA, I felt like I was at home. I found someplace I belonged. I had a great time. I could drink. I'd drink until about 10 o'clock and I'd stop drinking. I'd be home by midnight. Everything's cool. That didn't last very long. I made it to my first AA meeting ten years old. Because all I did was drink. We'd leave the house at 6 o'clock at night to say we were going somewhere. Go to Sweet Gum. Stay drunk. Say we'd spend the night at each other's houses, sleep in our cars. You know, whatever we had to do. It didn't take long for alcoholism to do to me instead of for me. I was raped in the parking lot of that bar because I didn't have anybody to turn to. I couldn't go home and tell my parents. I was in Atlanta. You weren't supposed to be out. You were supposed to be at Gloria's house. That's all I would have been asked. Why were you there? Oh my God, let me help you. My parents didn't know how to do that. You put that stuff under the rug. You didn't sit down and go, this is how I feel. I don't care how you felt. You go to work. Do what you do. Clean your room. Shut up. That's what I knew. I drank at being raped twice. I drank at being molested by my grandfather. I drank at being beaten the hell up by my mother. I drank at being gay. I was going to hell for that. That's just part of my story. Because somebody may be dealing with it. You ain't going to hell, first of all, if you're dealing with it, you ain't going to hell. We've been to hell. We've been there. But I thought I was. And staying drunk made me able to deal with that. When I got sober, you used to talk to me about self-acceptance. What a freedom. I had no idea what that meant. It took me 10 years in this program to know what that meant. So at 18, I go to my juvenile probation officer's office. And I told her what was going on. I'd wrecked another car. And she looked at me and she said, Joyce, you're an alcoholic. No, no, no. I'm sorry. Maybe you misunderstood. Men are alcoholics. Homeless men. Women under bridges. Those are alcoholics. Women are not alcoholics. And I'm not even grown yet. And I'm cute. You know? I was about 90 pounds. I was a security guard uniform. Looked like a little boy. But I was cute. There was no way in hell I could be an alcoholic. I lived somewhere. She said, well, just go over to Fulton. And I drove around that building for a little while. So I walked inside. And she looked up at me. And she said, are you here for alcoholism? I said, I guess. And she said, well, go have a seat. So I sat down in the hallway. And this man kept asking me my name, my birthday. And he asked me, what's your name? Where are you from? Now we've got an alcoholic on our hands. He has wandered in off the street. He don't know where he's at. What he's doing. Now this is an alcoholic. So I'm better now. I'm feeling pretty good about myself. She looked like Sally Struthers used to look. And she said, are you here for alcoholism? And I said, yes, ma'am. Matter of fact, I am. What you got? And they put me in a 28-day program there. And I spent 28 days trying to get somebody to bring me a joint. But alcohol was one thing. But I wasn't quitting smoking pot for nobody. That ain't happening. Let me say this. You ain't sober. You ain't sober. I was never going to quit. I'm waving my banners for that. Even when I got sober. I was like, I don't think so. I used to go to Biscayne, go to meetings, smoke a joint. Ride around, think about the meeting. Man, that was good. Real clear-headed about it. I picked up a 30-day chip at Biscayne one night. And I got in the car with my friend. And I said, you know, out of respect for my 30 days, I'm not going to smoke any pot tonight. If you're still coming to meetings like that, just keep coming. Just keep coming. Something will stick. One day it'll stick. So from 18 to 24, I was never in these rooms. I just came to meetings every now and then. I'd show up here and there. I knew where the meetings were at Fulton County. Detox. I'd go down there every now and then. And when I finally got enough, it had finally gotten to the point where there was not enough for me. And I couldn't tell you if I took a drink, what was going to happen after I took that drink. I didn't know. It took a long time for me to understand that it's never how much or how often, but what happens when, that matters. And what happened when for me was, I got drunk, I got naked. If I could have figured out how to get drunk and not get naked, I'd still be drunk. It was cute at 24. It ain't cute now, let me tell you. I can't take it now. I know nobody else or anybody else. It's not good. But that's what it did for me. I remember my bartender waking me up. I was under the bar. She said, Put your clothes on. I'm under her bar. Wrecking cars. If I could have figured out how to not wreck cars, I might not be here today. I didn't know how to not wreck a car. I love to drive drunk. Windows down 17 degrees. You know. 8 track blaring. I'm rocking and rolling. Natalie Cole. Sophisticated lady. I was ready. I mean, on the road hot. My first car was a Candy Apple Red 67 Mustang Convertible. Touch that. I was too cool. That car though, I say that and you picture that, right? That car we bought at a used car lot that my uncle Louie owned for $250. My daddy built the motor in it. Put a new top on it. I painted it. And out I went. And that's what I showed up that sweet gun head in. So I was ready to rock. But I didn't know how to do it. I was never good at this. I quit drinking on October 21st 1980. And started doing drugs in January. Because I found Quaaludes. And man, you talk about a cheap drug. Take a Quaalude. Five bucks, man. You're out. I'm not suggesting that you could do that. I don't mean that. But Mary Mack, who was my first copy of the big book, and a huge, huge member and supporter of NABBA in her day. Her granddaughter and I used to party together. And I ran out to the car one night to get a joint. And I'm going back in and Mary Mack was coming home from a meeting. And she got out of the car and she said Joyce, don't let them get you into the drugs. And I slipped that joint up in my sleeve and I said, I want Mary Mack. And that next day she went to work and Terry Lou and I were laying up in her bed, smoking joint, watching Homework. And I felt bad about that. First time I met Maggie Harrison. Anybody here remember Maggie? Whew, Lord have mercy. This ain't no block house. Y'all remember that? She ran the best game room. She started it. She and Mary Mack started it. I never liked Maggie. She didn't like me. But we respected each other. And those are the people that I met when I got sober. They taught me how to respect people and how to act whether you like somebody or not. You love them. And they taught me how to do that. And Maggie showed me a lot of love. When I had about 30 days I was sitting at this game. It was July 4th. I'm waiting to be fed. Somebody tell me when dinner's ready. Mary Mack's in there working her ass off sitting at the tables. And here comes Maggie in the door. Can't help Mary Mack sitting at that table. While I was about halfway in the kitchen floor I thought, who the hell is she telling me what to do. I turned around and she looked at me like say something. I just went on and did my thing. And I helped Mary Mack because I love Mary Mack. She looked nice everything looked. And Mary Mack looked at me and she said now you don't get to tell anybody that you helped. You don't get to say thank you that it looks nice. So she taught me how to be humble. I learned so much from these people just watching them. I knew from the way I was raised how to act. How to treat people. But I had gotten way away from that. And with alcohol and drugs it takes you to a place as y'all know how to act anymore. And we become people that we don't know who we are. I didn't. I didn't know who I was drunk. Other than naked and in bed with somebody I didn't know. That was always where I ended up. Because I was always either in a rage or in love. And if I was in love and you weren't in love with me then I was in a rage. And I end up in fights all the time. And I wasn't picky. Back then you know I was going to hell so I gotta balance it out. There was this side of the fence there was that side of the fence. I didn't care. Somebody was going with me. Man, woman, wife, husband, brother, sister I don't care. Somebody's coming with me. Both of you. I don't care. Somebody's coming with me. And you know we're drunk. We go. And so everybody's waking up going Dear God where we at. I wasn't the only one. I see that today. But at the time I thought I was the only one waking up in a strange bed. Everybody woke up in a strange bed. We're all looking at each other. Who the hell are you? By the time I turned 24 I went to the lady's house that I had had my first beer at. She lived next door to me when I was a kid. She was my rescuer back then. When my mother would get completely crazy and just I couldn't take it anymore with the dog chains and the belts and whatever I would run through those bushes to her house. And she gave me a safe place to be. And I will forever be grateful to her for that. She also took me to her refrigerator one day showed me a magnet that said to thine own self be true. It's the first time I ever saw that. I'll be forever grateful to her for that too. I was reunited with her when I had 30 years sober. Man what a cool thing to see somebody that you haven't seen since your last drink literally. That was cool. I went to her house just to visit. She was getting a wine glass out of her refrigerator. She had always done this. She gets a wine glass. She pours a glass of wine. She said I have to offer you something but I don't want to mess you up. I said no it's okay I'm in AA. She said what? I said no it's alright I can drink because I'm going to AA. Oh well okay. Tell that to an alcoholic. Okay well sure then have one. Okay let's have sex. So we have a few glasses of wine, a few amarettas, a little weed, a little first aid. I lost the ability to make my decisions right. I lost the ability to say what I wanted to say and do what I wanted to do. And even with the a bit of drug stuff that I had I hadn't gotten to that place where I didn't know where I was and I could feel that this wasn't what I wanted to do but I had no control over it until that night. And that next day I went to Fulton County Detox. I remember and I hope to God I'll never forget. I remember that night thinking I don't ever want to feel this way anymore. It was a lonely, lonely feeling and it was a desperate feeling. And I picked up what I hoped would be my last white chip on June 7, 1981. Now before that happened, I read the book. If anybody's thinking that you can go to England, they'll do it. You might as well stay where you're at because if you live, you're going to end up back here anyway. And you might not live. That's the problem. But I went out one night I hadn't drank in all these months and I had broke up with love of my life number 12 or something like that. So I'm at this bar and I ordered a beer. And it was half an hour so it was probably two. I got to think about that. I closed my bag like, Dear God, I've known you don't drink that. So I ordered a beer. Once you're ready for two beers. I couldn't drink that either. Well what the hell was I going to do now? I got to change how I feel. So I ordered Snops. Temperament Snops. That's some nasty stuff right there. Well now I'm real sick. And I just had to have a Quaalude in my pocket. So I took that to stow in my stomach. We can self-medicate. Take a Quaalude. That'll help you nausea. Okay. So I take a Quaalude. Well, I woke up to this man yelling at me. And I'm laying over in my car in front of my job. And he's like, George, you're in front of the world. And I'm like that? Okay. So I pull off to go home and change clothes. Well, I felt something with the car. But I went home to my mom and daddy. I go in the house, take a shower. I'm dressed. I'm a little uniformed on. My mom comes in and she said, What happened to your car? I don't know. What are you talking about? She takes me out and has a whole front right quarter pound with my car. It looks like a sardine can rolled back. I love Al-Anon. I mean, who is the sickest in this family? So my mama is standing there asking me, What happened to my car? I don't know. It's on the passenger side, mama. How would I know? I don't get in that side. Obviously somebody hit me. And then my daddy's out there. Well, we can take it down. We can do this. He's the logical. We can fix it. That's right. See? This is like this hanging off of my car. We tell these stories, but you know, we come up with this stuff. Who's not going to believe it? It's so stupid. I don't get in on that side. Well, that makes sense. You don't know what else to do. You want to believe it. Thank God. I got back to these rooms that next month. And I've grown up here in AA. Like I said, I went to Easy Does It for the first couple of years. No separatist meetings. No women's meetings. No gay meetings. None of that. Until I had about two and a half years of naps when I figured out this was a cult. And I called my sponsor to let her know. Because she'd been here for ten years longer than I had. And I was like, Gee, this is a cult, man. They're telling us you don't have to do any of this. But if you don't, you're going to die. And you don't have to believe in God. You're going to die laughing. And she's like, You've been brainwashed. Exactly. And you have too. You've been here overnight. And I'm in a panic. I'm trying to help this woman. And I said, What do we do? And she said, Well, maybe your brain needed washing. Then you can hang a phone up, you know. That's when you can slam one. So I slammed that phone down her ear. Let me tell you something. If you're hanging up on your sponsor, if you had what they wanted, you'd be their sponsor. So they ain't calling you back. You're going to end up calling them back. And that's what I did. And I've been calling her back for over 30 years now. I learned a lot. I learned a lot about sponsorship. I learned a lot about loving other people. Whether I like them or not. I've learned how to live and let live to a degree. I get pissed off in a heartbeat. If a cell phone went off in the air, I'd probably go berserk. I sit in an AA meeting, and if I see one light up, I'll look at somebody with that, give them that forced dump at the end of the bus look. Like the whole meeting's going to spontaneously go bust if somebody don't turn that damn phone off. But that's how I feel about it. It's sacred ground to me. It's very sacred ground. AA meetings. I've also got four years in Al-Anon now, and I'm very grateful for that. That's a whole... If you've never been to Al-Anon, I don't know why, but I've got friends of alcoholics. It's an incredible, incredible way to look at this disease. It's a much softer, gentler way to look at it for me. Because from the AA side of it, you don't want to be here, don't let the door hit you in the ass, somebody take your chair, that's fine, go. It's not that way from the Al-Anon side. I have to love you enough to let you drink yourself to death if that's what you want to do. And that's a whole different way to look at this disease. I learned a lot. I was in the program, you know, at two and a half years it was a cult. At five years, Mary Mac gave me my five-year medallion and she said, don't get complacent. Don't start thinking you've arrived. Well, I knew that, I already arrived at five years. Don't y'all give out cards or something like that? And I had seen this man get a watch the first year that I was sober. He had a watch for his five-year that had a blue face. That was Richard E. He used to come here, I don't know if he still does. It was his five-year anniversary. It wasn't what you got for five years, but I'm expecting a watch. I didn't get a watch. That little card, I got a resemblance. That's what I got. At seven years, and those of you who've been through it, seven years is a tough term in this program. My sponsor said she stood in her sink with a bottle in one hand and a phone in the other at seven years. Unable to communicate, somebody came and got her. I've been there. It was a hard, hard road to get ten years. Ten years I took the hardest look at me that I've looked all those ten years since that first four-step. I took another four-step at ten years. The first one was forty-five pages of guilt and shame. And grateful to have it off of me in the fifth step that somebody actually knew all that stuff. I've never heard it again. The second one was a couple of pages. It was pretty brief. The first one, actually the second one, in the twelve and twelve, it asks you specific questions in the four steps. One of them is do you play the big shot? I said no. Judy handed it back to me. I said I don't play the big shot. I had a very successful painting business. Hired a lot of people. Did some great, had some huge jobs. She said you don't on the outside but how do you feel on the inside? Hmm. So I started that painting business. It was going to be called HP and Me. By the time the cards were printed it was Joyce Pruitt Painting. And it stayed that. So I had to take another look at me. The main thing that I hope people get from my story is that no matter how good life gets or no matter how bad life gets we don't have to ever drink again. Those that are coming back, welcome back. If you're new, hang in here. If you really want to go tricep control drinking, go ahead. But ain't nothing going to mess up your drinking horse than sitting in this meeting right now. Let me tell you. It is bad to try to drink with a head full of AA. It sucks. There ain't no Quaaludes out there to drown that nausea. Let me tell you. This is bad. This is real bad. My wedding day was my happiest day. I got married at 14 years in this program. Happiest day of my life. I sat on my front porch. We built a beautiful home up there in the mountains. And I sat there on my porch. I was 25 years sober. And I clearly thought if there was a bottle of Jack Daniels in front of me right now, I'd drink it. I have never felt such gut wrenching pain as I did when my daddy died. Everything that I wanted to do required standing and I couldn't move at that point. I was just done. And I did what? The only thing I knew to do. I called my sponsor. Completely inaudible. But you know when you've been calling them for 20 years they know who's crying on the other end. They know. And she just said, I know baby, I know. And she knew. And she sat there on that phone. And she let me cry. The saddest day in my sobriety was the night that Chip Houston died. Now some of y'all know Chip. Knew him. He's been dead for five years now and Chip and I were Bubba and Lay Lane. And I was Bubba. I mean he was Bubba and I was Lay Lane. Believe it or not. And we had this whole skit, this whole comedy thing of Bubba and Lay Lane and our two kids and he worked in a plant and if he didn't drink all the time we'd have more and that kind of thing. And we'd just go into this thing all the time. We'd just play out this whole play. We were best friends for 30 years. Did not have a good relationship with his father. Resented that man horribly. Because his father resented him for who he was. And he had ricketts lymphoma. And we both read Louise Hay. Anybody who reads Louise Hay, you know the whole you can hear your life. So I said, tell me it's got something to do with resentments. And he said, deep secret resentments. I said, forgive that son of a bitch. Forgive him right now before this kills you. He went into Grady and I remember and they called me on October 21st and they said we don't think he's going to make it through the night. And I got down there and they had all these machines hooked up to him and slowly but surely this beautiful man was disappearing in front of me. He was coherent, but he couldn't talk because he had that thing in his throat. And his eyes were so swollen that he couldn't see me. But he could hear me. And we communicated until he was ready to turn those things off. He made that decision, but I swear I thought I'd killed him for months. But I had my hand on his chest when his heart stopped beating. I'd been standing there since the day before and he was gone. And I turned around and my friend 80 was standing there and 80 is about 4 foot 11 just the right height for somebody who's about to collapse. And she called me. That was the hardest thing I have ever been through in my life, to this day. That's the hardest thing. It took me to a dark, dark place. I didn't get drunk. I didn't die. And I didn't kill myself. You know, depression is a tough thing. And I've been there. I have been there. That commercial that shows that dark, cold thought on that woman around all the time, I've been there. I know that feeling of it. That if you slow down, it will get you and it will eat you and you'll end up on the back side of the couch. I know that feeling. You don't have to drink over that. I am amazed today that I am who I am. My family disowned me again. It was like whatever. When I got married, you know, you've been, you've been disowned enough. You're just done. You're just disowned. You know what? That choice isn't up to them anymore. What a beautiful thing. I got that from y'all. I get to decide who I want in my life today. You don't get to disown me today. I get to disown you if I want to. I can release you with love. I can say, you know what? God bless you. I wish you well, but I don't need you in my life. You're not the kind of person I want in my life. And that's what I told my sister. I said, you know, when I step out of y'all and look at all y'all, there aren't people I would invite. So I'm not coming. Appreciate it, but I'm good. You know? I keep up with my two sisters. We are not close today, but we are in touch, which is a miracle. I owe everything I have to Alcoholics Anonymous. I have been through some incredible good times. And I have been through some gut-wrenching, heart-breaking hard times. You know, I lost everything I owned about six years ago. That beautiful home that we built in the mountains. When the economy died, my business died, I nearly died. I sat in the dark and the cold in that beautiful house for a long time. And I moved to Blue Ridge. And life is a different life than I've ever known, but it's better today. It's better. And I get to come down here and see my cousins at the Napa House sometimes. I thank y'all for having me. I want to read this last thing. And please know, if you're teetering on whether to be here or not, pick up that phone and call somebody. It will kill you. I've buried more people at 58 years old than I expected to bury in my lifetime. You know, we've got a lot of different kind of things going on. We don't have just straight-up alcoholism much anymore. If somebody needs their paper signed, sign the damn paper. What's it going to hurt you to sign somebody's paper? Nothing. You know? You know? You know? You know? You know? You know? You know? You know? You know? You know? You know? You know? You know? You know? You know? You know? You know? You know? You know? You know? You know? You know? You know? You know? You know? You know? You know? You know? You know? You know? Don't talk. Just shut up. Get your paper signed. What am I talking about? Beat your charge, and then decide what you want to do when you graduate. And that's the way that goes. And that's my experience being to help, because I work for that paper too. I hope that you've gotten something that you needed. I have. But this is my very favorite passage in the big book. It's called, I won't do you like my sponsor did me and just say, you can read it and go read it until you find it. It's the last page of the Gifts of the Kingdom. I changed one word in it to relate it specifically to me and my sobriety. The last 34 years of my life have been rich and meaningful. I have had my share of problems, heartaches, and disappointments because that is life. But also I have known a great deal of joy and a peace that is the handmaiden of an inner freedom. I have a wealth of friends, and with my AA friends, an unusual quality of fellowship, for to these people I am truly related, first through mutual pain and despair, and later through mutual objectives, a newfound faith and hope. And as the years go by, working together, sharing our experiences with one another, and also sharing a mutual trust, understanding, and love, without strings, without obligation, we acquire relationships that are unique and priceless. There is no more loneliness with that awful ache so deep in the heart of every alcoholic that nothing before could ever reach it. That ache is gone and need never return again. Now there is a sense of belonging, of being wanted and needed and loved, in return for a bottle and a hangover. We have been given the keys of the kingdom. Thank y'all. Wow, Joyce, thank you so much. That was amazing. Thank you. I've asked Frank to give out the chips. I'm Frank Waters, a never-recovered alcoholic. He wouldn't let me introduce Joyce. It wouldn't be a roast or something like that, but I love your guts. Joyce is one of those faces I got to see when I first came in here. You know, I asked that question once, what did NABBA stand for, and somebody told me, one of these old crutchety guys downstairs told me it was North Atlanta Businessmen's Association. And back then, there was a bunch of them down there. We had a cafeteria down there, and it was open all the time, and a bunch of old men in suits there all the time. So I thought, okay. And when everybody, somebody asked, I'd tell them it was North Atlanta Businessmen's Association for at least two years. And then I found out it didn't, that's not what it meant. What I found out was it was the Northside Alcoholics Benevolent Association. And I tried to find that old man, but I couldn't remember who the hell it was because I was in a job. I didn't have days for the first few years. So it was the Northside Alcoholics Benevolent Association. And now I heard we changed it again. But anyway, I'm sure you all landed on something. We have chips in the program. And I didn't understand this when it was first laid out. But these chips are to mark our time. And that's how many times you don't drink or drug or just an AA. We don't drink. And back then, I actually got poker chips at the fish game room. And Maggie Harrison didn't speak to me for my first 13 years. So we're not all Maggie people. Maggie just looked at me and I looked at her and she just left me alone. It wasn't until we was at this door right here and I held the door open for her and said, thank you, baby. That's the first time Maggie ever spoke to me. But we keep these chips in our, in our pockets, you know, to remind us of this meeting we're at, to remind us of the purpose, to remind us that, you know, what we probably are because we're unsure. We don't know yet. So that's why we get chips. And I'm going to go through these chips one time. If you're nodding, you could come to another meeting, maybe get another chip. Or you can come over and steal them. But if you want to just try this, just give it a try. We give you a white chip. Does anybody here tonight want to pick up a white chip? Just try it. Anybody else want to give it a shot? I won't bite you until you get 30 days. Does anybody have 30 days left? 30 days, 800 nights? Okay. After 90 days, you get a red chip. Anybody? After six months, you get a yellow chip. After nine months, you get a green chip. You know why they call it the green chip? Because it's green. That's it. After years of multiples, that's another word that threw me. What the hell do they mean by multiples? More than one or two or three, you know. You get a blue chip. We call these birthday chips. Does anybody have a birthday? I want to pick up a chip. There's something else that always threw me is congratulations on the chips you hold. What do they mean by that? By the ones that say, oh, I got a blue chip. I got a blue chip. I got a blue chip. It's in your pocket. So, if you're like me, maybe you can understand that. But congratulations on the chips you hold. Thank you, Frank. Thank you, everybody, for joining us tonight at the Blue Chip Speaker Meeting. A crying train Get caught playing a damn blue game Everything is a crying train