Doctor Asked If I Abused Drugs — I Told Him No, I’m Organic 🥴 – Sharon B.

Good evening. My name is Sharon Barker. I'm an alcoholic. Thank you. I'd like to thank Julie for asking me. She's got good taste. But two of my other favorite speakers are here this weekend. And so I feel blessed to be with you in your beautiful part of the world. It's a beautiful place to open your eyes and look at God's glory. And I've been blessed to be with Max and Debbie since I got off the plane. And I've just felt right at home. And Alcoholics Anonymous is the language of the heart. It's one alcoholic talking to another alcoholic, and that doesn't lie. It doesn't lie. So, you know, when I was spoken to from the heart this morning, and I just felt right at home and comfortable and in my own skin, and that's freedom today. I want to apologize to Max for spilling a drink all over his truck. I never spilled a drop out there. And I remember once when I was dancing at the 500 Club in the French Quarter. So there, you know, a little bit more about me. And I was kind of geared up for my number. So I had my outfit on, which consisted of fishnets and platform shoes. So I put some hot pants on, and I had this little skimpy top. And I was going to the split shift and back because I was getting two bottles of free champagne. So, you know, I'm going to go out anywhere in any condition to get two bottles of free champagne. And I don't know if you know the French Quarter, but the streets are a little bit – I mean, you've got to be drunk to walk them right, you know, a little bit cobblestone-y and uneven. And I was coming back from the split shift, and I must have hit one. And I hit one of the edges of the cobblestone in those platform shoes we used to wear in those days. I went down, and there was a New Orleans police car right there, right at the stop for me, as I am in the street with myself pouring out of the holes in the fishnets now. And I had skinned my knees and ripped my hot pants, and the champagne was in the air, unbroken. And those cops, they didn't – they smiled at me and gave me a – they were impressed. And now I'm sober 26 years spilling lemonade all over Keith's car, but I guess I've grown some. So Alcoholics Anonymous to me, I don't dress like that. I don't dance like that. I don't drink like that. I don't hang in those places anymore. And I used to think that was – there was freedom for my right to do whatever I wanted to do. I'm from a family where there are not alcoholics. I am it. And when I started my behavior, they didn't know quite what to think of me. And nobody knew the disease of alcoholism in Iowa in the, you know, 60s, the late 60s. And it was just, oh, she could just, you know, get through college and get a good job and find a nice guy. And why does she have to act like that? And what's wrong with her? And she's got so much potential. And she could be anything she wanted to be growing up. Why does she act that way? And, you know, they talked about me in the side rooms of my grandmother's house for years. In fact, once when I came home at Thanksgiving time, they didn't let me sit with the adults. I was 19 years old, and I had earned the right now to sit at the table, the big table, not the card tables with the children. And that's where they put me. They sat me with the children. They didn't want me at the big table. They were afraid of how I might rant and rave or if I might pass out in my turkey or if I was going to start a fight or sob uncontrollably because you just didn't know how I was going to act. And that was one of those days that I felt like I wasn't a part of that family. And even though my heart was breaking, I was defiant and angry and pushed you away, and I don't need you anyway because alcohol allowed me to operate alone. Alcohol allowed. Alcohol allowed me to be omnipotent and have everything I needed inside me. Alcohol allowed me to be self-centered and self-focused and self-absorbed with the thought that I was out in the world helping others find freedom. You know, when I went off to college in the 60s, it was the 60s. It wasn't just saying no. It was just saying thanks. We had a lot of fun with our alcohol. We took a lot of things. We had a lot of fun with our alcohol. I was on a search for truth. I had gone to the White House when I was 16 years old, 17 maybe that summer, as a young citizen of America. They had chosen 100 young citizens of America from across the country, and I was representing my home state as the female. And I was drunk in the White House at the tea with Lucy Bird and Linda Bird. I was a bad example of my... I was a bad example of my home state and the young women of America. And a couple years later, I was back near the White House. They wouldn't let me in now, marching and protesting, and I had had my heart broken, and so I was a little less loving in the world. I was not one of those people that... My son, he's 17. He says, oh, Mom, you're an old hippie. You know, and it's like, no, I like to brush my teeth. I would give the... You know, the peace sign with one hand and the one-fingered peace sign with the other hand. I was angry. I wasn't that peaceful. I was not looking for a way to make the world better. I was pissed off by the time I was 19 years old. I was angry and upset, and I wasn't getting my own way, and it was easier for me to drink alcohol, and it was easier for me to shut you out, and it was easier for me to not be a part of that family. And now not look at all of the opportunities I just lost. You know, I had an art scholarship. I couldn't paint a picture. I had drunk that away. And as I went along my path of alcoholism, more and more just kept going, and I kept getting it. And I don't know, not very many people in my drinking spotted my disease, or if they did, I didn't stay with them very long. I remember having my gallbladder removed, and the doctor looking at me, and he said, you're way too young for this. You have pancreatitis. Do you abuse drugs or alcohol? The doctor spotted it. By that time, I was living organically on an organic farm in northern Wisconsin. And with all honesty, I looked at him, and I said, no, I'm organic. I mean, I am organic. How can I abuse drugs or alcohol? I was smoking organic pot, drinking organic wine, eating organic food, living with these organic people. And they were just way too boring for me. Every once in a while, I would have to just. I would go get drunk, and they would all go to bed and leave me alone, because I acted badly, you know, when I drank. I, you know, I called them all hootenanny whatevers, and, you know, I would frisbee their Pete Seeger records, kick the banjo, and put on my Rolling Stones, and drink my wine, and, you know, dance with the dog and the cat, because we were all so much happier when I was drinking. When I wasn't drinking, I was uptight and nervous, and my stomach just churned, and I just, I was hanging on. I was hanging on. That organic pot just didn't do it for me. Didn't do it for me. I had to drink. And I, it was another start for me. It was another fresh start. I mean, I worked at an ad agency in New York, and I drank and stayed up all night so I wouldn't miss truth. And I lived there for a while until I got so paranoid and had so many anxiety attacks, I tried going back to college, and I couldn't paint anymore. And I don't know if that bartender would have said, you know, if you act like this and drink like this, you're not going to paint another picture for 30 years, I would have said, who cares about painting? Give me my drink. Give me my drink. Take my painting. Take my creative spirit. Here it is. Give me my alcohol. And I ended up in Colorado, and I, you know, I came to California with Bob Dylan through Utah. We had some very wonderful times in Bryce Canyon, and I got to California, and he went his way, and I went mine. And I really think it was Bob Dylan. I never asked to see his driver's license. Is there anything? But I ended up in a commune, and these people were just, another bunch of people I ended up with that didn't drink like me, and they asked me to leave. Now, I don't know about you, but I hated that tap on the shoulder. I wanted to go, I quit before they say you're fired. I wanted to go, I'm out of here before I was asked to go, and they tapped me on the shoulder at this Huntington Beach commune where they're all on welfare and food stamps. And they asked me to go. Because I was the drunk. I had drank their bong wine. I mean, I was, you know, oh, you've done it. I hear somebody over here growling. It's not very good, but it works. And, you know, there I was with my thumb back out on the road again. And I ended up back in Colorado, and I went back to my cabin, and somebody was living there. Isn't that funny how I was gone for just three months, and somebody was renting it out? And I couldn't even have enough worth to ask for my things back. And I thought. Something is wrong with you. Something is wrong with you. Go get your things back. And I couldn't do it. And I ended up with my mother and father. I was 21 years old. My mother said, you can stay here, but stay out of your father's way. Please don't take any drugs in this house. And you break our hearts. My father and I could not sit down at the same table and eat breakfast. There was so much pain between me and dad. I was the second daughter. I was the one that played the accordion like him. I was the one that could play the piano. I was the one that, you know, danced the polka. I was the one that played the piano. I was the one that, you know, danced the polka. I was the one that, you know, danced the polka. I was the one that, you know, danced the polka with him. I was the one that could light up the room. And I was the one that won all those little art talent contests. I was ... missed Eastern Iowa, going down the the road on the convertible. My father was so proud. And there I was. My dad and I couldn't even sit in the same room and break bread because I had drug all of my disease out. But, you know, I— said, I did this, I did that. And- And I as a family member . . . It would totally drive our boys workflow. disease home and shook it in his face and made him hurt and when I think that I'm only hurting myself because that was my selfish centered alcoholic cry leave me alone I'm only hurting myself I'm not hurting anybody else I just couldn't look around me anymore because I had hurt my family I had hurt people in my life that cared about me and my dad and I could not sit at the same table could not walk down the hallway lest we touch shoulders there would be too much emotional pain between me and dad so I lived upstairs and I drank and I was sick I was very very sick I knew something was wrong with me I knew I was dying I didn't know it was alcoholism and neither did anybody else I had been to psychiatrists I'd been on valium therapy from the family doctor I had been to a lot of I'm okay you're okay things people tried to pray over me dunk me do everything I can't commit I don't know about you but if it's not right now I can't commit to tomorrow I can't commit to eternity I can't commit to forever and anytime those words were used I picked up my pack and walked I live right now I live for today in that backpack is a book called be here now by Baba Ram Das I didn't know a thing about it but that's what I live by love the one you're with and be here now that was it very simple and I would drag my pets with me I'd always have a dog that would somehow bite it you know and my mother caught me with my dad and my mom and my dad and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my dad and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my dad and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my dad and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my dad and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my dad and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my dad and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my dad and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my dad and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my mom and my And Tar Baby was drunk in the trunk of my car, wrapped in a blanket. And she didn't know quite what to do with me. I was sitting there drunk, talking to my dead dog. So we buried the dog the next day, is what we did. And she just was really worried about me. And I couldn't stand that, because my mother and I were always close. And the disappointment and the confusion in her face made me run. I just ran. I couldn't deal with it. I couldn't be one more disappointment to that family. It was better I was gone. It was better that I was gone. And I started taking those geographics that just didn't end until I came to Alcoholics Anonymous. Johnny's sponsor, Norm Alpe, used to say, the reason the grass was greener was because the other guy took care of his lawn. I've been looking for truth a long time, and I come to AA and I get a good piece of it. And then he seemed to look right at me, and he said, and if you're a newcomer, we know what you're made of. We're going to make a good lawn with all that fertilizer. So we've been tilling my soil for a long time now, turning it into flowers. But you've got to till it, you know. You've got to stay in one spot and make it work. But I was a geographic taker. I kept moving and going. And what happened to me was I ended up joining a carnival. And, yeah, I know that was something, that my mother just couldn't believe I had done that. And I ended up in jail in Bogalusa, Louisiana. Not really the place to go to a lockup because you don't shower alone, you don't sleep alone. I mean, I was so crazy in there because I was detoxing. I was having DTs, and I didn't realize that for a lot of years. I was cutting myself and putting blood all over, and they left me alone, blessedly. Blessedly, I was left alone in there because they thought I was crazy, which I was. And after being in there a week, they took me in handcuffs to this room. They threw me in, and there sat my father from Iowa, my dad. Gotten on a plane, rented a car, found me, hired a lawyer. My dad and I sat there in front of the lawyer that day, and all he wanted to do was to try to help me out. We didn't talk to each other. We didn't hug each other. We didn't get caught up on what was happening with everybody. We just looked straight ahead, inches away, from each other, and sat at that lawyer's desk, and he was behind the desk telling my father what he could and couldn't do for me. And many years went by before I ever spoke of that day to my dad. And I didn't run home in my first year of sobriety and bring up all the painful situations. I worked with a sponsor through my amends steps, and I made amends for years, years to people, years. Things would keep coming up. So it was about 80%. Eight years ago, I asked my dad about that day. So that was many, many, many years in between. And my dad and I were talking, and I said, Dad, I don't remember much of that day. What did I say? He said, You know what? You told me you weren't guilty, and it wasn't your fault. And that was as honest as I could be, in handcuffs and a mess, and going up for a felony, and I was for sales and possession, and they didn't like carnies down in their town, and they put me away there. But I got out after 31 days. I had to pay a big fine. I found the French Quarter, and I fell in love. And that's where I did most of my drinking and the rest of my alcoholism, my active alcoholism. And I lived in a situation with a guy that had gone to jail, too. And he had a pet skunk, and I had a dog. I had a new dog. And the skunk and the dog didn't get along, and he and I didn't get along. But we're in this thing together, so for two years, I've had, uh, loved one another by having knife fights, and black eyes, and craziness. And above a biker bar, so that, you know, the cops were called, the bikers got tired of coming up and breaking it up. And I think of that. I think of that woman that lived in that. And where, you know, she's just, she's still in me somewhere. But I'm so far removed from that life today because of the blessings of a program called Alcoholics Anonymous. And I think of, How easy it is to get to a meeting. How easy it is to pick up a phone. How easy it is to be part of the world of the force for good in Alcoholics Anonymous and to be of service and to make the coffee and to show it for the newcomers. How easy it is for me to do that today because of a surrender, a blessed, blessed surrender. And the timing of God in my life to get me right where I needed to go to show me that there's a gift called Alcoholics Anonymous. But, you know, I was hard and heavy in that life and it didn't matter. And if we weren't hurting each other, we didn't love each other. And I didn't come from that. I did not come from that. My mother and father were married almost 58 years. And they loved each other and he gave her kisses and told her how wonderful she was all her life. So I didn't come from that. But it was absolutely normal for me to find that now. And that's what alcoholism did. It just took away. Every piece of me that was good. But I laid it down willingly because alcohol worked. Alcohol made me quiet inside. Alcohol made me one whole complete human being when it worked for me. And if I could just get it just for two seconds, just I would spot Lauren Bacall in that back bar mirror, okay, we're here. Two seconds. You know, at the end it was just two seconds of that feeling it was working. And my, um. My mom and dad went to Texas, came over, and found me living with this guy. He did not treat me nicely in front of my parents. My father couldn't look at me, of course. My mother cried. And when they went home that day, went and sat down at the Moth Trap Bar and ordered my drink, which was a rock glass full of gold tequila. Neat to the top, no ice, no salt, no lime, just a rock glass poured to the top. And I don't know how many I had and the fire didn't go out. I did not care about how I felt about my family. I didn't. It didn't allow me not to hurt. That day, and alcohol was going to do that. It was going to betray me. My blackouts were long. I was always a blackout drinker. I, I, um, would come to in Florida. People I didn't know. I drank, uh, as much as I could all the time. If I, uh, was in a bar and you were buying me drinks, I still had a quart of gold in my bag because I always had to have my alcohol on me. I was not going to get cut short anymore. And in. In 1975, uh, my friend Michael was shot and killed and he was standing two feet to my left. I was in a blackout. It was Mardi Gras day. And, um, Norm used to also talk about those seconds and inches. And it was seconds and inches for me that day that I was even breathing in and out. It was a seconds and inches for me many times out there before I came to Alcoholics Anonymous. It was seconds and inches that I was even going to get to be in a position that God could just give me that day, that moment, that was mine to come to you, which was August 20th, 1975. And, um, I ran from that that day. I was scared. I ran. I came to New York. I came to California. I saw the big book for the first time in a bar called Barney's Beanery. This girl was so drunk that they had to call her a taxi. They took away the keys to her car because they didn't want her driving me to A&A that drunk. And we all gave her a toast as she went out the door. I didn't know anything about Alcoholics Anonymous, but we thought, good for you, Chris. Go to A&A. And we all gave her a toast and she felt her way out the door with this. Big book under her arm to go to a meeting, whatever that was, and I ended up back in New Orleans. I couldn't get my job back on Lower Decatur Street. It was a seedy, tacky little place where you can smell the bathroom when you walk up to the, to the bar. And I had asked for my, my job back and they said no. And it seemed like my alcoholic friends didn't want to drink with me anymore. I felt like I was a curse in their life. They didn't want to hang with me anymore. I was about a couple of years ahead of them because a few. Two of them are in the program today. Many of them are dead and a couple are sober and I ended up going to Hawaii, but I never made it. I made it to Southern California again, that bar again, and I was unemployable. I was over 170 pounds, a bloated, toxic, alcoholic mess. I wore a dashiki and a Panama hat. I had everything I owned in a backpack and I didn't care. I didn't care about anything anymore. I don't remember much of that month that I was here. But I ended up on some. Bikes going to Palm Springs to party. And I remember they, they left me. I thought, why are you going? We're going to party. And they said, now we need a little extra weight on the back tire. It was windy going through the desert. Thanks for, thanks for the weight kid, you know, and they left and I met some people at night and I don't remember much. I was in a blackout when I came to, I was in an apartment, empty apartment where that was getting beaten up. And I had been in those situations. I hitchhiked all over this country. I cried my way out. My dog had bit my way. You know, we had gotten out of those situations. I had run from them. I had. Hidden from them. I had talked my way out of a lot of them. I had bought my way out of those situations, but this time I just stopped screaming. I didn't have it in me anymore. And that was my surrender. That was my ego dying. I just stopped screaming. And, um, when I came to, I was outside of town laying in the sand. I was off the side of the road in a ditch. I had my job broken in three places and my nose was broken. I was. Unclosed. And I had a concussion. I was bleeding from my face. I was laying face down in the sand and I heard the car door slam and I heard them drive away. And I lifted my head up for a moment there. I had some clarity and I heard a voice, the voice said, get up. I want to live. And it wasn't my voice. And I really believe that that was what it took for me to hear the voice of God who had been trying to get my attention for a lot of years, but I am stubborn and I am angry and anger. I can keep you motivated and going and getting you through any situations. Anger kept me alive. I know it for a lot of years. And, um, I was not angry that day. I was tired. I had just given up and I ended up in the hospital and I was the victim. I had to sign something that said victim and I thought, oh my God, they finally know. It was like, oh, if that broken face could have smiled. I would have. Because it was like, that's what I was shooting for was victim. And I laid in the hospital for two weeks and no one sent me an airline tickets. It was perfect timing. Everybody had kind of let go of me. I got a few cards and a few phone calls, but nobody came and bailed me out of that, that hospital in Palm Springs. And I came back to Los Angeles because they caught these two guys and they were going to make it a big deal and go to court. And I was a victim of violent crime and I was a sick, sorry, alcoholic. Now my jaw's wired shut so I have to, you know, stay with this guy who's buying me cheap wine before I go off to work. And I unscrew the top and stick a straw in there and stick a straw through the wires in my mouth where the tooth had been because I had a space to drink my wine. And, um, there was no more fun in alcohol. There was no more omnipotence or power or, I was just drinking because I didn't know what to do. And something inside me had changed. Looking back, I can see that something inside me, I had given up the fight. And I probably could have gone that way for a long time and just died somewhere in Skid Row in L.A. I don't know. But on August 20th, this guy said, you're depressing me, you have to leave. Oh. And I called my mother. And my mother in Iowa had gotten a phone call from somebody when they had found me and brought me into the hospital that didn't tell her what hospital I was in or how bad I was. And for two days, my mother didn't tell me. My mother finally found me. It took her two days calling different hospitals. And she found me. And she found out I was going to be okay. We never talked. But that day when I had nowhere to go, I called my mother. And she said, Sharon, I can't help you anymore. I can't even send you $20. Please go to the Salvation Army. And it was seconds and inches because if Marge would have sent $20, my mother, you would have another speaker. Because the next number I called was a girl named Chris. And she was the girl in the bar with the big book. But her number was there. I didn't put it together. I just knew she was always nice to me. And I called Chris. And Chris read my mail. Chris knew what was going on. Chris recognized the disease of alcoholism. She wasn't sober that day. But she somehow manipulated me to call this woman named Suzanne. And this woman named Suzanne said, put down your drink. Put down your joint. I thought, how does she know I have both? She said, go sit and wait for these girls. I thought, where am I going? What's it about? But I just, she just seemed to have this. She seemed to have this direct way of talking to me that I heard her. She was five years sober and AA. I didn't know that. I just know that I sat there on the steps of this liquor store that I was living upstairs from and this car pulled up. And I thought, no, not those girls. No. They were clean. They were pretty. They were bright. Their car was bright. I couldn't even look at it. It was a Volkswagen that was that bright yellow. And they just, they had that California shiny hair and those teeth that just. I just thought, no, you know, but I got up. They just kind of lifted me up under my shoulders, put me in the back of this Volkswagen and I couldn't get out. I, I didn't know where we're going or what we're doing, but they seem to talk incessantly about themselves. That's all I remember is they wouldn't shut up about themselves. Um, I walked around with a newspaper clipping in my pocket for months about an unemployed bartender from New Orleans that had been beaten up and Palm Springs from the paper and nobody in Alcoholics Anonymous said, oh my God, what happened to you? They were just saying, God, look, she looks surrendered. Maybe she'll make it. Um, I came into Alcoholics Anonymous on August 20th, 1975 and that was my day. I don't know if I have another day. I don't know, but that was my day. Um, I heard what I needed to hear in the heart area because I certainly couldn't hear anything upstairs in my head for a long time. But that's where you spoke to me. And somehow it got through to me that you cared about me. I didn't quite know why. I didn't quite understand what you wanted from me yet. I was waiting for the potential test, pay here, sign here, eternity, some sort of forever thing. And you said it's a day at a time. I had been living like that. I can do that. I can do a day at a time, whatever it is you want me to do. And they said, don't drink and use and we'll pick you up tomorrow night. And these girls waited in the car in August in a Volkswagen where the windows don't go down the back with a detoxing, stinking, unbathed alcoholic sharing parts of their story with me. I don't even know what they're saying. I just know they're talking a lot about themselves. And the sponsors had said, wait for the liquor store lights to go off before you send her upstairs. And that's love in action. That is love. That's what we do for each other. I didn't even know I was being loved. Somewhere inside, deep inside of me, that ember was fanned by your love. I didn't even know that. I just know that that ember of life that was me was fanned a little bit by the love in Alcoholics Anonymous. And I didn't even get it for a long time. I didn't know what was going on here. I couldn't talk the first three months I was here. I had to learn to listen. I was wired shut. It was a blessing, total blessing. I had to sit there and listen to you. I had no opinion, which was great. I was very out of it. And they moved me out and gave me a sleeping bag and I slept on different women's floors. And this was a group called the Pacific Group. I'm still there today. I'm still in the same group today. They took care of me and I didn't even want to be taken care of. I didn't even know they were taking care of me. It just seemed like after a week they would ask me to go. I'd go in the bathroom, lock the door, sob for a while because I was being kicked out again. I didn't realize I was just moving to somebody else's floor for a while. Me and my paper bag. A mismatched clothing and my big book that they had given me at that first meeting. I gave them my last quarter for because nobody was going to give me anything. Moved around in different women's floors for I don't know how many weeks it was. Until I finally got a sponsor and then I got a couch. So it was like you get a sponsor, your life gets better. It was really that simple for me. So I couldn't work the first three months I was here. Because I couldn't open my mouth. I had to go back to court. I had to go back to these doctors. And I was so tired. I was tired. There was this man named Chuck and he was always looking dapper. He had cancer for years but he always looked great in Alcoholics Anonymous. He was always working with a newcomer. He was always part of the service of Alcoholics Anonymous. And one day he saw me over in a corner writing in this little book I had. And somebody had given me, I don't know, five dollars or a bag of cigarettes. Five clothes or something. And I kept track of everything he did for me. How many rides, how many cigarettes, how many quarters. I wasn't going to owe you anything. I'm going to just keep track of this, pay you back, and then I can go. Because I'm a score keeper. And he said, what's that? You know, I tried to talk to him. So I took it away and he started looking at it. And Chuck probably had about 10, 12 years at that time. And he looked at this and he leafed through it and he said, No, we don't want to be paid back like that. You don't have to pay back every person that gave you something on this list. Someday you're going to have a car. You will. You'll have a car, you'll have a driver's license, you'll have insurance, it'll be registered, all in the same name. I thought, how did he know that? All in the same name. Someday you're going to have a couch that a newcomer can sleep on. Someday you're going to have so much clothes you're going to put some in a bag because you know someone needs them, they're starting a job. Someday you're going to have that extra 20 bucks you can slip in somebody's purse because they need it. Put groceries at somebody's door, ring the bell and go. Pass it on. That's the way we want to be paid back. And that man gave me back some dignity that night. He entrusted that I would follow along in the footsteps of people that had given to me by passing it on. And I was sick enough inside of me to feel the love again. He fanned that ember inside of me by giving me some dignity back. Chuck was also the one that said I looked tired and invited me to Alcoholics Anonymous. He said, put down your pack and stay with us. You look really tired. How about 90 days? Oh, how does he know I'm tired? I didn't know how you knew. My very first meeting, the man stood up there and said, he waited for the spaceship to land and said, you can come home now, Bill. And I knew that he knew how I felt. That was all I heard at my first meeting. That and the big book being given to me. And that was the beginning of Alcoholics Anonymous. Don't drink and use in between meetings. We'll pick you up tomorrow. Don't drink and use in between meetings. We'll pick you up tomorrow. You better get a sponsor or you're going to get drunk. Because hearing that and hearing that and hearing that. So finally I picked this woman named Janet. She was this crazy woman that just worked so hard to stay sober. She worked hard at her program. And that's what I got. Janet expected me to work hard at my program. She didn't give me any slack. Once I got the wires off my mouth, I wanted to go be a bartender. And she said, no. Let's stay away from the liquor for a while. Why don't you go serve some food? So I went out there interviewing at these places. And I would tell them everything about my parts of my story. I didn't edit. I didn't, you know, I would write these things down. I couldn't remember dates or how many places I had lived. It was this insane resume. And they were fascinated, you know. One guy's ordered in lunch and invited people in to hear it. And I never got hired. I just, you know. Finally she said, okay, we're going to do this. And we sat down and we worked on kind of this cheat sheet resume. So I could go in and just kind of bare bones. And I got hired at this place. And I worked graveyard shifts, early morning shifts, split shifts. And I hated serving food. I hated it. I was nasty and angry to the people. And pretty soon the people from the AA Clubhouse that would come in at 9, 10 o'clock at night didn't want to sit in my station anymore. Because they'd say, how are you? And I'd bore them to death with my sad little sorry tirade. And, no, no, we won't sit there. We're going to sit over here. And one night, Sally C. was at our meeting. And they brought her over and they showed me how to do one of those nice Kiki Alenon smiles. And so we worked on doing this. And I said, it's fake. They're going to know I'm a phony. This is AA. I have to be honest in all my affairs. And they want you to punch in on time, punch out on time, get hot food, don't have an attitude. And just smile a lot. And they're going to know I'm a phony. And they said, no, they won't. Just do it. So I went, I'll show them. I'll show them they're wrong. And that night my tips doubled. And I thought, these people are pretty smart. I had to learn again how to be socialized in the world. I had to learn how to live in a world I don't understand still to this day. I had to start working these steps. Because I was so shut down emotionally. I was just almost damaged. I know I was for a while. That's a good time to get in a relationship, right? That's what I did. He had six more months than me. I thought he knew everything. So Jana had me do a third step with her. And we did it in the daylight after Clancy's job. We went to the yard and played volleyball. And we went to her house. I said, what? We're going to go in the bedroom? She said, no, right here's fine. Living room. Door open. Shades, you know, all the way up. Kids in the house. And we're on our knees saying this prayer. And I thought, this is embarrassing. This is really embarrassing. And she's all excited. And we get up and she hugs me. She won't stop hugging me. She hugs me hard. And I'm thinking, stop hugging me now. Okay. Stop this. I don't like this. And then all of a sudden, I felt all warm all over. And I thought, that's it. I'm gay. That must mean I'm gay. I'm gay. I'm gay. I'm gay. I'm gay. I'm gay. I'm gay. Something woke up inside of me. And so we talked about not making any major decisions in our first year. And, you know, I've done a lot of third steps with Girls First Sponsor. And I know how exciting it is for the sponsor and the baby just always hugging me. What does this mean? You know, making a decision. Okay. But I don't have to feel it. You know, I know. I know the rebellion and you know, you kind of sometimes have to be drug through it. And. But Janet was good for me. She says, you get commitments, you show up, you work as a newcomer, you give rides, you go on 12-step calls. I went out there. I lived by Los Angeles Airport, and there's these seedy hotels, and I would get calls over and over and over again to go sit at the bed of these women who had a black eye, and they're passed out next to her, and I'd take them to a meeting, and God knows if they ever remembered it, and they'd wake up with literature, I'm sure, the next day. But it did me a world of good, a world of good. I got real 12-step calls. It was a great thing. And I remember one morning I called Janet, and I had this headache, and I thought I had the brain tumor, and it was 6 in the morning. And you don't wake your sponsor up and whine. Remember that if you're new. Just don't do it. Give them a chance to have a couple cups of coffee or something. And I woke her up, and I'm whining about the brain tumor, and I can't go in, and I'm tying these white waitress shoes and putting on that orange apron, and I said, I can't do it. I have the brain tumor. Something's wrong with me. And she said, if you die at work, we'll give you a great chance. And I signed off on a great funeral. But if you die at home in bed, there's no funeral. And she hung up the phone. And by then, I'm awake, and I'm angry, and I'm motivated. And I'm going to go in and be Miss AA and do everything perfectly and go to that meeting and tell her she was wrong. And I thought she was smart enough to motivate my anger, to push me through that fear. Janet pushed me through the fear with my anger. I was at the airport at 11 months of sobriety, ready to go have my slip. I had this new credit card. They sent me a MasterCard. I'm going to Las Vegas, and I'm going to have my slip. But Vegas owes me. And I called her to say, you know, don't worry about me. I'm going to go have my slip. I'll be back. And she said, fine. Maybe she went to sponsor school or something. She said, go ahead. Go have your slip. My friend Stella, she was 11 months sober. She wouldn't finish her inventory either. You've got to throw that in, you know. And she went out and had her slip, and she burned up in a bed. So go have fun. Oh. I sat at that airport, and I wrote, and I wrote, and I wrote. She made me so mad. But she motivated me with my anger again. I took my fifth step with her the week before my birthday cake. Because in my group, it seemed like you did at least your fifth step before you took your first cake for one year. And it seemed like my friend Pat, she had done hers when she was two, three months sober. Pat wasn't my friend then. She is now. But she had eight days left. I mean, she came in and stole my thunder with all those old-timers. I mean, nobody wanted to be with me. I was a stinking, smelling alcoholic who couldn't talk. You know, I was like with people in their first many months of sobriety, and the old-timers were pushing their newcomers over to learn how to work with a newcomer by working with me. And so what happened was that Pat just seemed to have their attention. She had all those women that are five, six, seven years sober. They just wanted to talk to her. They wanted to be with me, and I just resented Pat. It just seemed like she stole my thunder. And I would think of drinking sometimes. I'd think, no, I'll have less time than Pat. I'd better hang in here. I want to have those eight days more. But she had done her inventory and worked on her amends. And, you know, I'm not listening to anything that she's saying because her husband's dying of cancer, and she's got to get through these amends with him before he goes. So they're pushing her through the steps. It just seemed like she had a lot of attention, and she cried all the time. And they would read Chapter 5, and when they would get to the fifth step, she'd turn around and look at me. Give me one of those. I didn't mind. You didn't do yours. I know. Smile. Oh. Her lips would get a little thinner and bluer every time she'd do that, you know. I remember after I had done that fifth step with Janet on Venice Beach all night long, I sat in the meeting that night a little deeper and a little firmer. And Pat must have gotten the word because she just looked over at me and smiled. And I looked over at her and smiled. I still have eight more days than Pat, and we still celebrate every August. I don't let her forget those eight days much of the time. And we argue about quality or quantity a lot, but, you know, whatever. But I went home at a year of sobriety. I went home to begin to make amends for my family. I brought the guy home I was going to marry so that I could meet him. We had just gotten engaged, and we were engaged for a good year, year and a half before we got married. And he was nice to me. He didn't call me for a letter of words in front of my parents, who love my mother. He was cooking. He spent time with them. He was kind. He was gentle. He was a year and a half sober. They were pleased that I was with somebody nice. He overlooked his 27 and a half tattoos, and, you know, they liked him. And we were putting the bags in the car, and I thought, Oh, I didn't talk to my dad yet. Because it was still real tense. There was no real cheering going on at one year of sobriety. They spoke of me in, bang, bang. Very quietly. Around the household in my grandmother's house. And for quite a few years, you know. They couldn't say alcohol for a long time in my family. And we put the bags in the trunk, and I told my dad I needed to talk to him. And we stood by the side of the car. And it was one of those Indian summer Iowa days. And it was hot. It had that fall Christmas in the air. And I remember the car was warm, and I leaned back against it and looked at my toes. Because I remember making circles in the sand with my toes. And my dad was looking at his toes doing the same thing. And I said what I needed to say to my dad. And he said, I just always wanted you to be happy for him. And that was a start. When I got off the plane, she said, did you do it? And I said, yes. She said, it's a start. And time went on with my family, and I went home every year. And I've been staying sober, so they knew things were better. And they knew that I hadn't been changing addresses. And that I wasn't in a lot of jackpots. And that I was remembering Christmas, and remembering birthdays, and making weekly phone calls. And, you know, it was never really that comfortable one-on-one on the phone with my dad for a long, long time. And a woman named Ginny became my sponsor when I was about five years sober. And Ginny helped me start looking at my defects. Because I was kind of numb to them for a long time. I didn't... I didn't relate to them. I was like a broken computer with wires all over the floor. Occasionally, we'd catch a spark when we put a wire together. Oh, I'm angry. You know, as I hit my husband on the head with a flashlight. Oh, I'm angry. You know? And he's like, what are you doing? And I'm calling my sponsor. I'm angry. And she says, good. Let's start. I know. So I was beginning to relate the action as it was happening. I wasn't laying in bed two weeks later going, oh, I'm done. You know? I mean, I just... I was so emotionally shut down. And the steps started to put me back together. So I began to learn how to live in myself in the now. And what was helping that was a woman named Ginny who had learned to... Who had taught me how to soften up. Had taught me how to single think. Had taught me how to learn to listen. I was getting better jobs. I was working in situations that were tough. Somebody broke my anonymity at one place. And that was very tough. But I ended up leaving that place with a going away party because I had to be an example of Alcoholics Anonymous there because they all knew I was in AA. It had forced me. Where I work now, I've been at the law firm over 14 years and nobody knows there. And I just have to go in every day and be a good example of Alcoholics Anonymous because a few times that I had broken my anonymity had meant sobriety for somebody else. It's amazing how situations are changed. It's amazing. It's amazing how situations are put right in front of you when you are living in the moment, when you are living in God, when you're waking up trying to be useful. And when those instincts are aware and open, you're right where you're supposed to be doing exactly what you're supposed to be doing. So, Ginny had me call my dad. I was fighting with my husband once, and she said, why don't you call your father and ask him can you pay him back the money you owe him? I said, well, we're talking about how mean my husband is to me. She said, I don't care. Why does he call your father and ask him for money? your father in absence and paying back the money you owe him all right just to get her off my back i called my dad my dad had walked me down the aisle in california my dad had danced at my wedding my dad had gone to an aa meeting with me my dad had looked at all of you and said look at your life sharing you got it made my dad had read the big book my dad had run a calculator tape on a cold night my dad had put it on page 78 which says most alcoholics owe money and my dad had told my mother look if she stays sober she'll get to this part of the book and if i'm not home this is the bottom line right here circled in red and um i thought he was too fast and it was too high but i called my sponsor back and he didn't give me any sympathy she said why don't you call him in two days and what kind of payments can you make we talked about terms and we talked about what i could do and we talked about how long it would be and and so she said call him back and stay till it's over you know my father just that was it the bottom line and he accepted my terms and i called to jenny and i said okay he accepted and she said then you were not to be late with that check every month because you're an example of alcoholic synonymous maybe the only example your father will ever see so what what she added made all the difference in the world and i wasn't going to know it then she said do not send the cold hard cash no novel put a note about your life a newsy note about what you're doing that month and i complained about that about my master's degree professional siblings and how he has a lot more fun talking with them than about me and working with newcomers and going to the yard and showing up at panels and she said she didn't care you know that's jen that's jenny she said she didn't care do it anyway so she asked me did you send the note with the first check on time yes i did i knew she wasn't going to forget so i sent the note and i sent the check and i sent the note and i sent the check and it was three lines the note was three or four lines it was all i could do but it began to open something up in me i had no idea it was going to open up inside of me i began i wrote my dad a letter i remember when i wrote him the one-page letter you had a turtle crawling across the bottom of the stationery when i finished that letter and put it with the check and he got it on time i thought i hadn't written my father a letter since camp since camp when i was a little girl and um i was very moved by how long it had been since i gave something like that to my dad and my dad got that note and that check whether i thought i had the money that month or not for four and three months quarter years. It was between Christmas and New Year's, and he picked up the phone, dialed my number, and said, Merry Christmas, Sharon. I don't want your money anymore. Your debt is free and clear. And I got off about two years late, I can tell you that. And he said, but don't stop sending me your notes. And my father and I, little did I know, got to walk into a beautiful, guilt-free relationship because of a sponsor who wanted more for me than I thought I could have for myself, who knew that there could be healing in the steps of Alcoholics Anonymous, who has faith in the process. There's many times in my life I don't have faith, but I trust the process. I trust the process of the steps. And my dad and I got a lot of good years together. I remember being at home over the Fourth of July, and it was one of those beautiful, beautiful days where it was, you know, we had watermelon seed spitting contests, and we had gone to the parade and watched the hay wagons come down, and there's that Boddicker accordion band I used to play in, and we had apple pie. They had pie eating contests, and I was sweeping up after the fireworks that came, beautiful fireworks, and we were doing sparklers, and my son and I were writing dirty words, sparklers, and it was just one of those great nights doing those little snakes, and back at the house having some of mom's apple pie, and I was up sweeping up the driveway, all the fireworks, paraphernalia, and Milky Way was out, and fireflies were everywhere, and the fog was coming in from the riverbank, and perfect day. My dad walked over to me and started to share with me his emotions. Boy, that was a long time between my father ever sharing an emotion with me and that night, and my first thought was, I've been ready to emotionally sponsor you for years, that was my first thought coming from self, but louder than myself was my God that said just shut up and listen, and I got to listen to my dad share about him and his life and his worries and his concerns and getting older and all of that for years, and April 19th, two years ago, he was killed very suddenly. He was ripped out of our lives, and I got to go home and be there and be of service to my mother. I got to go home and have Alcoholics Anonymous put me on the plane and meet me when I get off the plane. I got to write my dad one last note to send off with him. I got to play him an accordion piece. I got to be the example of Alcoholics Anonymous for my family that you taught me to be. I got to be a giver and not a taker. And my mother gets to sleep at night because she knows I'm safe with you, and if I ever, ever think that I'm not safe, that I'm not paid here when I'm sick, I can never repay you for that. My mother can sleep through the night knowing her daughter is safe and well here. And I went through a real tough divorce at 10 Years of Sobriety, and my sponsor smelled hot, so I had to go get a new sponsor. And she had 21 years. She's back down with about 6, and that was a long time ago. 16 years ago, she had 10 more years of trying to get back. and she had 21 years back down with about 6, and that was a long time ago. 16 years ago, she had 10 more years of trying to get back. And I got to go home and be the only one left. I had no where to go. So I got to go to jail and I had to go home, and I was locked down, and I had paid for my family. trying to get back what was rough for her but my husband decided he wanted a newcomer in the room and nobody got custody of the meetings it was pretty tough and my sponsor went out and so i ended up at clancy's door and i my baby was on a stroller and i said i don't know if you care for me much i don't know if i care for you much but i need help he said come in and sit down we'll try it out and we've been trying it out now for 16 years he's been my sponsor for 16 years he was louder than my head that year i needed him because they seemed to be really happy and having a good time i had given up being a victim at seven years of sobriety from the tip of my head to the tip of my toes i finally had a spiritual awakening as a result of the steps of alcoholics anonymous so at seven years of sobriety i became complete and whole and i um i love that feeling that's what i come back for is that feeling of god inside of me because of myself i'm nothing i can't face over alone i can't i have to be sitting right in the middle of god with skin on rubbing it with you i can read my big book and be alone and do my spiritual readings and have my meditation and do my walk with my dog and answer the phone and be of service to the girls but i need to come sit in the middle of it because there's something that happens when stores are gathered together my heart gets full my spirit soars when i'm with you and um so clancy walked me through that year and i um i was intense i was upset i had cut and spiked my hair up i wore you know t-shirts and jeans and i was angry and i kicked my feet out hoping people would trip over me and i was pissed off all the time i had started being the victim again i was the big martyr i was betrayed and i wore it and one night i was on my way with two hot cups of black coffee to baptize the two of them they were laughing in the back of the room him and her and they were pregnant and married in that order and i was on my way and um he happened to be there saturday night he's gone a lot but he happened to be there he saw the wild eyed look in my eyes he saw where i was going he stopped me and grabbed me by the shoulders and he put the coffee down and he said karen you'll walk through this with dignity and grace and if he would have stopped there i would have said screw dignity and grace i want revenge but he said something louder than my head he said you can be an example to others i didn't want to hear him so i left him alone i said you can be an example to others i didn't want to hear him so i left him alone working on my steps i started sponsoring again i started getting honest i went out and got this job with this locker room i am i started to grow and change again and i left them alone and they had a baby and i went to their baby's first birthday party and i wasn't happy but i showed up because my son wanted to see his brother turn one put his face in the cake and all that and she was always really nice to my son i'd pick him up there and he'd go oh jill did this and jill did that and i just god i'd bite my tongue until it was lead and nobody talked badly about each other none of us did we're all still sober today that's a blessing but jill and i got to be good friends because she's a great human being did not want to be friends with her at all they've been divorced about six years now so we've been better friends the last six years he married in al-anon moved away and he's got his own path but nobody had to drink and that's that's a blessing i have a 17 year old kid who grew up in the middle of alcoholic synonymous and he's been a good friend to me and he's been a good friend to me and he's been a good friend to me and he's been a good friend to me and he's been a good friend to me and he's who is secure who knows he is loved he looked at me one day and said you wasted a lot of time drinking didn't you mom he's straight and square he's preppy i don't know where he came from but it's great um he used to put his all my badges on he thought he was like you know when he was the wild west guy and he put on his cowboy and his badge and he put like all these convention badges on his badges and he told everybody about being an aa mommy was in aaa and in the when they were reading aa milne in school and he was going to this catholic school because he got kicked out of this other school and i was sponsoring this nun so i was making amends for the catholic church it was this long thing but you know and this catholic church has this carnival and guess what i had to do you know i ripped off little kids with matt armstrong shows was a you know big bad carnie and here i was now working this carnival buying ride tickets for the kids counting the money doing the tickets doing the cleanup i did that from kindergarten through eighth grade until my son graduated from that school and i thought okay those amends are over now you know god shows you a way to make amends i was back i was in new orleans when i was five years sober for the international johnny spoke there but became johnny on the street and uh they turned the french quarter into ice cream bars and fruit bars for us in town it was amazing i was in town and people said you should see share mama share that's what i was called she's sober in this aa thing she looked great people didn't recognize me i was out there being an example of alcoholic synonymous years later one of my old roommates called me and said she was sober and a couple months later one of my other old roommates called me and said she was sober robin and denny and i were the three most experienced and here we were still sober and alcoholic synonymous the three of us denny went back to law school i get to sponsor robin and denny sent me my pardon in the mail i didn't even ask her for it so i'm no longer a convicted felon from the state of louisiana a little bit of freedom came that day i used to think freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose i have a lot to lose today when i got here i had nothing and i thought i was free i was angry and i was alcoholic and i was sick and i was self-centered and i couldn't even turn around and look at the damage behind me all i could do is look ahead at the cliff and keep running towards it and i didn't care i didn't care if i'd fall off that cliff it didn't matter i had no no zest for life or no hopes or dreams or no feeling of humankind inside of me anymore alcohol took that away and i gave it willingly i gave it willingly i came to you on august 20th 1975 and i have been i have been changed i have a god that loves me no matter what that wants more for me than i can ever fathom to want for myself and all god wants me to do is to share it every single day i sponsor a lot of women all over the all over the country i work the steps with them and um i get to watch them change and grow i can watch the light go on in their eyes i get to sit there and watch it i get to witness god's love every single day when i'm with you in alcoholic synonymous i i want to tell you that um my mother loves you she was out here for my 25th year party and she just fell in love with you and you fell in love with her and it's still at my mother's house and a lot of her friends that aren't widows yet have left but i've got babies and grand babies showing up the house and she's still in love with me and i'm still in love with her and i'm still in love with her and i'm still in love with her and i'm still in love with her and i'm still making coffee sleeping in her basement taking her to movies you know we are linked from the chain and alcoholic synonymous my job is to take my link shiny and strong so that somebody on either side if they need it i'm not going to break it with me and some days i need you and i need your strength and that's what it's about here um but it only happens when i can come be with you and get the peace and pride that i look for my whole life i got to go back to the capital i got to go back and speak to the congressional once and i know johnny's talked there too of alcoholic synonymous i got to go back and wear a pretty dress and stand in the capital and speak to uh a members and members of congress as an example of alcoholic synonymous i got to have that circle closed i have to see my son sitting in there in his suit and his tie and the congressional record under his arm and how proud he was of his mommy that day he's never seen her drink he's never seen her drink so overpaid so overpaid i should have died out in the streets but for some reason god spare each one of us we each have a gift to give my job is to find what it is and forget it every day i'm like closer to my god that i am with you i want to let you know i'm with a man named casey he's a member of alcoholic synonymous he's got a story much like mine and our relationship is built on the passion of gratitude we've been together a long time we don't we're not married and we don't live together and um but we are alcoholic synonymous together and we love so many of the people many of the people in the rooms of aaa and we get to be part of the force for good together and it's a wonderful thing i have a dog today and i have three cats and they're all spoiled rotten i've made my man metal kingdom and my dog every day puts her head in my bed and my friend mary reagan used to say please god help me to become half the person that my dog thinks i am and that's my job every day is to try to be a better person and to know that i am sitting in the middle of a blessed blessed gift called alcoholic synonymous and to me in my gut and in my heart that brings me peace when i am with you i want to tell you i love you i am glad to be with you i hope tomorrow to wake up and see the beauty around us take a drive i want to thank betty and max and i thank julie very much thanks for having me