Physically Drunk but Never Mentally Drunk — Where an Alcoholic Woman Stops Being Able to Protect Herself – Madeline P.

Good morning, everybody. My name is Madeline, and I am an alcoholic. Although my last initial is P, I've had a few last names, but I haven't had K yet, so maybe it's a premonition. I want to thank the committee. Everyone has been incredible, from Kelly, who picked me up at the airport. I've been so impressed with how smooth everything has run here, and how organized it's been, and how calm and cool everyone has seemed. It may not be that way on the underside. I always feel, from my own experience, if you've done one of these and been involved in it, if you complete the weekend and you haven't been given or wanted to give someone else a toaster bath, it's been a success. This is where we learn how to play well together. My sobriety date is November 14, 1985. I have four children. For those of you I live in, my home group is the Rule 62 group in Middleton, Idaho. You can't make that shit up. We meet on Sundays, Mondays, and Thursdays at 7.30. You're all welcome. But you will need directions, because it's in the middle of God knows where. I had to use my GPS for the first six months I went to that meeting. If you notice a little bit of an accent, I'm not a native from Idaho. I always love when people look at me and they go, Where are you from? I always say, Southern Idaho. I'm born and raised in Houston, Texas, and got sober in the great state of Texas in Houston. That's where my sobriety began and where my roots are still, while my family is still there. One of the things that I've been taught to do in this program when I came crawling through these doors is when I said I'm willing to do anything, I said I was willing to do anything. This was never the plan. I was never one of those people who came into a meeting or a conference and saw that podium and said, Oh boy, I just can't wait to do that. Not me. I was the neurotically shy little girl who could not sit in a room like this when I was little. I had to sit in a special chair outside the cafeteria, because I could not sit in a crowd. I would hyperventilate. I had this problem that I would throw up and then pass out like the kid on South Park. This continued a long time into sobriety. I found out that I had a defective nerve that was stopping my heart. I finally got a pacer. A lot of people are grateful I don't throw up on their shoes anymore. But I was terrified of people. The last thing I ever wanted to do was be up in front doing something like this. Some people know me. I really feel that these podiums should come with stirrups, because I feel the same way when I go to the gynecologist. It ain't natural. I am not comfortable. I'm feeling very exposed. I don't want to have a conversation. No matter how many times I go to the bathroom before I get up here, I still feel like I need to pee and have gas. I'm the kind of girl who would fake her own death if either one of those things happened. So I was not thrilled to ever be the thought of having to get up and tell my story. But I was sponsored that unless you have a real, real good reason for not doing something, you go. I can tell you that early on in sobriety, I had been asked to tell my story. I was one of those people who got here and thought, whew, thank God I got sober when I did, before all my troubles caught up with me. Which they did after I got sober. It was that slam on the brakes, all your problems find you. My life was not good, and I was pretty whiny. I had been asked to tell my story, and I went to my sponsor and I said, I think it's best if I don't go talk to these people. I mean, what am I going to tell them? Stay sober and your life can suck too? And she baited me, as she did many times. She said, well, if you can find it in the big book where it says you don't have to go tell your story, you know, based on that reason, then you don't have to go. And I just knew there had to be somewhere in this book that it said, if you're that sick, please don't spread the disease. Just stay home. And what I found came to be my favorite paragraph and the reason I'm here today. And it's page 102 in the big book. And it says, your job now is to be at the place where you may be of maximum helpfulness to others. So never hesitate to go anywhere if you can be helpful. You should not hesitate to visit the most sordid spot on earth on such an errand. Keep on the firing line of life at these motives and God will keep you unharmed. So I'd love to tell you that I'm here out of strong virtue and good moral character, but that's just not the truth. Everything I've done in Alcoholics Anonymous has been about saving my own ass. I am not the girl who wakes up in the morning saying, help me be good today, God. It's just, please help me not be the same schmuck I was yesterday. So, and I can tell you that that has kept me unharmed. Exactly like it says right there in that line. That no matter what was going on in my life, I was able to match that calamity with serenity. I was able to remember that I am here by God's grace. I am here by God's grace. I am here by God's grace. That I don't know about you, but I have a feeling there's a few others in this room who are not supposed to be sober on this Sunday morning. I'm supposed to be dead. I'm supposed to be dying a spiritual or physical death somewhere. And I have the grace to be here and the gift to not have to suffer from alcoholism today. I was not supposed to be an alcoholic. I had a hard time when I came to AA because so many of you had these wonderful stories of your fantasy. You had the wonderful stories of your families and the drunken brawls. And I didn't. I grew up in a bleeding deacon Southern Baptist family. And my parents are both deceased now. Their names were Joseph and Mary. No shit. And there was hardly any alcohol in my house. Big family. My twin brother and I were the youngest. I did not grow up with active alcoholism. Now I can tell you what I did grow up with was parents who came from alcoholics. And they were going to be different. So they didn't drink. And you know they say if you take an alcoholic and you just take away alcohol all you got left is ick. And we were really icky. We had all those other isms of alcoholism without the relief of a drink. I remember people saying to me, gosh you came from a big family. I bet you're all close. And I would look at them with that blank stare because I didn't know what they were talking about. Because my family was so emotionally sterile. And we were so distant and so separate. I can tell you having a twin brother they would say, wow having a twin that has got to be so cool. I bet you're really close. And again I would look at them with that blank stare. Now I'll tell you that my twin brother and I are complete polar opposites. I cannot believe I ever shared a womb with that boy. And so I didn't understand what people were talking about because I felt like I lived on an island by myself in the middle of this big family. The thing that occurred to me though when I was little and I knew something was off was I wanted to drink. I knew there was something wrong with my family. Why didn't they drink? I could not wait from the time I was little to drink, to smoke, and get my hands on a man. Orders changed throughout the years. Took different precedents. I could not wait to do something different other than this straight laced rigid family I grew up in. And I knew that made me different because it didn't seem like the rest of my siblings had those thoughts going on. And I set out that with the first opportunity I got I was going to do that. Now I did not grow up in a safe family. You know we had all that pretense on the outside of being over achievers and good church people. But on the inside we were a good church family. On the inside there was a whole lot of bad stuff that went on. I am a victim of child abuse and it did not make me an alcoholic. It does not mean that it didn't impact the way I reacted to life. But I can tell you that my experiences have been that I've met people who experienced far worse abuse and they didn't have to pick up a drink. But I can tell you that when I was 13 years old my twin brother and I took a drink. And it was like having the classic twin experiment. I watched him take that drink and you could tell it went down and it went plop. It did not do that for me. It went down and it exploded. And I can tell you that from that first drink I was one of those people who felt it and knew I wanted to feel it again. And I was always from the first time I drank to the last time I drank I drank like a pig. I never sipped anything unless it was under extreme duress. Laughter. I was the girl who always drank out of control. I always drank to get wasted. I never ever wanted to control my drinking. And I'll tell you I had that drink. I got violently ill. Like I said I had this whole problem with this vagal nerve that stops my heart. You know I blacked out. I passed out. And that did not deter me. For the rest of my drinking I did not care what the rest of my drinking was. I did not care what those consequences were. Those were minor things to overcome as far as I was concerned. The way it made me feel which was comfortable in my own skin. You know I don't know if anyone else knows what it's like to go from neurotically shy to this like this extreme psychosis to all of a sudden you know the background music to your life is Sly and the Family Stone. Boom shakalaka, boom shakalaka. It was like shit I have arrived. I don't care what the consequences are. I'm going to keep drinking this stuff for as long as I can. I have a normal friend who you know he has a hard time when you know I was at Icky Pa last weekend and it was off the chain. 4500 young people. Few old people like me. You know you don't drink you don't die. This shit happens to you too. And but he has such a hard time thinking about someone who's that young drinking. And I said you know from the first time I picked up a drink at 13 to when I quit I had never gone more than two weeks without drinking. And for all of high school I drank daily. You know. But what was going to be my saving grace and my death sentence was I talked about the four things that can keep someone from getting sober. Our health, wealth, youth and intelligence. And I can tell you that I was in the right place at the right time. I married him. He was my high school sweetheart. Anyway. He didn't drink. His drug of choice was rage. And you know we dated for like three years and when it absolutely wouldn't work. I did the alcoholic thing and got married. And but I was in the right place at the right time. I got a great job. And I was making money hand over fist. Because see I know how to work. I know how to escape into work. And it wasn't about having a good work ethic. It's about if I'm. If I'm special I might feel normal. You know. You can't just love me a little. You have to love me a lot for me to feel like you love me. And I can't just be a good worker at work. I've got to be the best worker so I'll feel like I'm okay. And so I buried myself in my work. And I can tell you that during this time it was not planned. I was in a terrible relationship. This marriage was very violent. And I got pregnant. And I did not want to be pregnant. And that was one of those things I was going to take to the grave. Because I. How do you tell people out loud you don't want to be pregnant? How do you say out loud that you don't want to be a mother? I mean we had this whole culture that kind of puts a whole lot of light on how wonderful it is. And how great it is. And I thought I don't want to do this. I don't want to do this. But it was too late. You know. By the time I found out I was pregnant it was too late. And I can tell you that. Knowing my drinking history. You understand. I was really partying hard at the beginning of my pregnancy. And then when I found out I was pregnant I continued to drink. I didn't drink as much. But I had a doctor who said it was okay to have a glass of beer or some wine. And I took him at his word. And you know. It's not something I'm proud of. It's something that happened to me as an alcoholic woman. You know. That doesn't happen to men. But it happened to me being a woman and having the disease of alcoholism. It continued through my pregnancy. And I just lived in fear of having this child. You know. I think we all when we have a baby we have that you know. Looking at them and counting toes and fingers. I was terrified. But you know. More than anything it was not so much that I was afraid of raising this child financially. Because I was really good at making a buck. I was afraid of taking care of anything emotionally. Because I was in this marriage and I can tell you he had no clue who I was. I don't know if anybody else has ever been in that situation. Where you're with somebody and they don't know who you are. Because I had so many walls up to protect me. Because if you knew me you wouldn't love me. And I had that child and what I did was I threw myself into my work. Because if I didn't have to be home with that no fun husband. And trying to be responsible for this child. Then I wouldn't have to face my fears. And my drinking continued through this time. And this no fun husband. You know it was I think it was my first inventory. I was telling my sponsor about what a party pooper he was. He never wanted me to go anywhere. And he was very controlling and possessive. Which he was. But it was in that inventory I started looking at the fact that I always said I was going to be home. Go have a drink or two. With the girls. And I'd be home around 7 or 8. And I always came home knee walking drunk. Stripping clothes at the door. Don't know where the car is. Heading to the bathroom. And I couldn't understand why he didn't have a warm fuzzy feeling about what I'd been doing all night. Especially since I had no memory of what I'd been doing all night. And had to own the fact that I didn't help that marriage any. You know I could take his inventory. I need to take mine. And what I brought into that relationship. But you know that little story book romance fell apart. And the thing that happened there was when that control was gone. Because he wrote me all the time about how much I drank. And when he left I said thank God he's gone. I can drink like I want to. And man there is nothing like having when that lid comes off that pressure cooker. And I was free to do whatever I wanted to do. And I'll tell you that I knew. When I pick up a drink I cannot predict nor control what happens to me. I know people who maybe were able to manage. I was not one of those people. Now I still showed up at work. Weren't they lucky. And I can tell you during this time it was the 80's. And I had this little problem with outside issues. If anybody who knows me now thinks I'm fast you have no idea. I just like vibrated out of the chair. I thought it was the greatest thing since slicing. I thought it was the greatest thing since slicing. I thought it was the greatest thing since slicing. I thought it was the greatest thing since sliced bread. When I found those substances I was like woo party's on. Because I can party all night and be at work. And I talked to people for a living at work and I'm sure that they were like I don't know what she said but I said yes. But the progression of my drinking was I wasn't everywhere drunk but I was bar drunk. And I was running the streets and then going and taking a shower. Throwing on some clean clothes. I don't care how much of a shower or perfume you put on, I know I had to stink. I had long hair back then, and I, you know, you can't get the bar smell out of it. And alcohol just reeked out of my pores. And I remember my boss took me in his office one day and told me how horrible I looked. And I was pissed. I was offended. I remember thinking, I've seen your wife. I can't believe you'd say that to me. Such a nice girl. And he was trying to get my attention. Because what I didn't know was that my boss, who to this day is one of the most loving, caring men, one of the greatest bosses ever, was trying to save my life. He was watching me nosedive, and there was nothing he could do about it. Because he'd gone to my employee assistance director, and she said, ooh, you can't touch her. You know, she doesn't have office hours. She makes more money than anybody else. Until it affects her work, you can't do anything. So he started with trying to tell me how crappy. I looked, and that fell on deaf ears. Because I'd mastered the art of not looking at myself when I, you know, got ready in the morning. I don't know if anyone else in here knows how to put on mascara without making eye contact with that drunk in the mirror. But I did. And I've got to tell you, during this time, I had the sweetest little neighbors across the street. One was the youth minister, and the other was the music minister. And, you know, I always prided myself on coming home, getting out of there. You know, it's kind of like being a vampire before the sun comes up. And at the end of my drink, and that didn't happen. And the sun would come up, and I'd be coming home. And they had this lovely yard they were always working in. And I'd come around that corner thinking, oh, please don't let them be in their yard. Please don't let them be out front. And there they'd be, waving. Because they knew I was going to be getting out of the car with my amateur hooker clothes, you know, with my pantyhose hanging out of my purse, going, hello. Taking my walk of shame into my house. But this boss was dropping articles. My in-basket. I didn't know he was dropping these articles. He was giving me articles about women in business who drink too much, and alcoholism in women. And I just thought my secretary Xeroxed the wrong page in a journal. I was like, what in the hell is this? I don't know what that is. Because I didn't have a problem. And it wasn't. And I'll tell you, even today, when we talk about, is alcohol a problem, I have a hard time saying that. Alcohol saved my life. I'm one of those people that I'm afraid I would have blown my brains out before the age of 18. If I hadn't had alcohol. And alcohol kept me alive long enough until I got through these doors. And so I hate to even, for me, I have a hard time saying problem. Because it truly was my salvation and my death sentence to get here. But he was trying to help me with these articles, and I was tossing them. And he didn't know what to do. He just had to watch me crash and burn. And I think about that now. I'm one of those people who, I started going to Al-Anon when I was three months sober. And I know today that for myself, as a member of Alcoholics Anonymous, I make the worst Al-Anon in the world. Because once I've gotten the solution, I think, I call it the chainsaw method. I just want to take off the top of your head. Why don't you just get it? And I really hate that whole double winner title. It just doesn't sound cool. I prefer to call myself a cross-dresser. Go to both rooms. But most important things I learned in Al-Anon were shut up. And it's none of your business. And those may sound simple, but they're not easy. But I can tell you that this man watched me crash and burn. And I know that it had to be really, really hard for him, because he was such a kind and caring man. And the night came. The thing for me, being the kind of drunk I was, who did not stay home, who wanted to be out in the midst of everybody, blind drunk. You see, in the end, I had this problem. I got physically drunk, and I couldn't get mentally drunk. And that was a terrible place to be. Because I would get so physically drunk, I couldn't protect myself. And as an alcoholic woman, that's a terrible place to be. Because I had things happen to me that shouldn't have happened. And I can tell you that you'd think it would make me want to not drink, but maybe I would want to drink more. Because I am that girl who came to, covered in blood, and had that moment of terror, praying that it was mine and not somebody else's. And having to feel relief when I realized it was my blood, not somebody else's. But I was that girl who had to sit in the waiting room of the emergency department, waiting to be seen, covered in blood, and having people point and whisper, and feeling so much shame and so much degradation over what had happened to me. Knowing that it somehow had to be my fault, that there's something one more time defective with Madeline, or someone wouldn't have done this to me. And I can tell you the full circle of that was, in sobriety, going back and becoming a forensic nurse, so I could take care of victims. So that they would never have to sit in a waiting room, with people pointing and staring. And they would never have anyone tell them it was their fault. And they would be treated the way that they're supposed to be treated. There was no greater gift for me, for me to heal, than to go back and take care of victims. And that happened more than once. But that was the most violent. And the night I got sober was a night like any other night. You know, it wasn't some big, horrible situation that happened. But one more time, I got so physically drunk, I wasn't going to be able to protect myself. And I could not stop. When I take the drink alcohol, it takes that drink, and it takes another, and it takes another. And, um... I was out with two friends. And, uh... I can tell you that I knew their first names. I don't know their last names. They're beautiful girls. And, um... I had this moment, where I saw clear. Um... One of the things I've learned in sobriety is about those assets becoming liabilities, and your liabilities becoming assets. And one of my biggest liabilities is I'm an extremely opinionated, judgmental asset. And, um... I just love to take your inventory. My sponsor is German, but has lived in Texas for over 40 years, and so she has this very twisted southern German accent. And she always used to take a big drag off a cigarette and say, we're not gossiping, we're just reporting. And, um... Well, I was reporting. I looked at these two women that I was out with. Beautiful girls, who were selling their soul for a drink and a drug. I remember I just had this... I just... It was like time froze. I remember thinking, my God, Madeline. What is a nice girl like you doing with these two drunk cocaine whores? And, um... My higher power, who I didn't even know existed, held up a mirror and said, have you taken a look at you lately? I always remember that voice. Have you taken a look at you lately? What are you doing? I really wanted to try to justify to myself that I was a half a car length behind them, but I wasn't. Alcohol took me the same place as it was taking them. And that liability was my greatest asset at that moment, because I saw them and I saw me. Which has been a whole lot of my sobriety. When I'm taking your inventory, I get to take my own. And I'd love to tell you that night got better, but it got much worse. And the next day, I ended up going into my boss. I had to call him and tell him I had car trouble one more time. New car. Woo. And, uh... I always remember that moment of terror. He said, how about if I come and get you? And I remember freezing, because I had no idea where I was. I was a blackout driving drunk. You know, and I would have to figure out where my car was and where I was in that city of four million people. And I said, no, no, I'll be there in a minute. And I remember I went in and I gave him my resignation. And, uh... I was shaken pretty bad by this time, because I did not have a morning drink. And I said, look, I gotta go. Um... I can't stay here anymore now. I had called my big brother, who lived in Los Angeles, and asked him if I could come live with him. I was gonna go there to get away from alcohol and drugs. I wasn't gonna go someplace like Polkatello, Idaho or anything. Um... But, uh... But I remember that boss. He was a big Greek guy, and these long lashes, big brown eyes. And he reached his hand across the desk, and he took mine. And he said, have you ever tried drinking just a little? And I was, pissed. Because I felt this, this hopelessness, like I had never felt before. Because I said, no. I haven't. Ever. And on top of that, I've never wanted to. I'm the girl who has never wanted one drink unless it was in a bucket. Don't even give me one little measly drink. I don't even want it, if that's all we're gonna have. But, you know, I told him I needed to go, because I was not feeling well, and I was not looking well. And I went home, and later on that day, he sent one of my employees to babysit me. Because he knew something I didn't know, which was that I was gonna try to take my life. And she came, and I talked her into going and getting drunk with me. I don't think that was in his plan. But it kept me alive. You know, there's that critical jumping off point we reach, where I needed, I needed to drink. It was not time yet. And I can tell you that for the next week, I tried to kill myself with alcohol, and anything else, I could put in me. I just wanted to die. Because I could not not drink, and I couldn't drink. It was a horrible, horrible place to be. Drinking didn't work, not drinking didn't work, and I had no solution. And I had this employee, this director, that I'd gone to see, to get him off my back, and I lied like a rug to her, every time I went to go see her. I remember looking at her, every time she would ask me about how much I drank, I lied, instinctively. Because I remember looking at her, thinking, you got on a puffy sleeve blouse, I'm not telling you anything about, how much I drank. And she was a wonderful, dear woman, who helped save my life, let me tell you. But this time, I ended up calling, and I said, I think I've lost my mind. Because I sat the whole night before, with a loaded gun, taking it in and out of my mouth, wishing I could pull the trigger. I wanted to die so bad. And, you know, as an ER nurse, I remember one night, I had a patient, a young girl, who was an alcoholic, who had tried to take her life. And I heard, my social worker, who came on duty, was in there to talk to her. And I heard him telling her, that she was a coward. And I ripped that curtain back. I said, can I talk to you for a minute? And so we went to the nurse's station, had a little come to Jesus. And, I said, I don't know, if you've ever felt what she's feeling. And I don't know if you've walked in her shoes. But if you think telling her she's a coward, and adding more shame, to what she already feels, is helpful, might I suggest a change of profession? Because that's not helping. I've been where she's at. She needs solution. And she needs some other way to live. Not more gasoline on the fire. And I took him to the computer, and I pulled up the website. And I said, this is where you can find meeting lists. This is where you can find our 24-hour answering service, that will get you members of Alcoholics Anonymous, who will come in here and talk to her. This is where you can help her. Find her some solution. This is where we have online pamphlets. You can print out and get to her before she leaves here. You can find solution for her. And I'll tell you what, he never did it again. And he probably made more 12-step calls possible, by using our answering service, than anybody else I knew in that hospital. But I could not sit there and watch him call her a coward. Because I know what that feels like. I've lost a lot of friends. Since I've been in this program. Who have been in that same place. Drunk and sober. And I don't judge them. I don't have the kind of higher power, that places that kind of judgment. I have the kind of higher power who says, it's okay, I gotcha. No more pain. It's okay, I gotcha. It's not mine to figure out. It's mine to grieve. It's not mine to figure out. But you know, I went to see this employee's business director. And this time I told her the truth. And I got an A on that little test. Um, and, uh, and the next thing I knew I was shipped off to chemical camp. And, seems they've had a standing reservation for me. And, and I can tell you that, um, I knew nothing of Alcoholics Anonymous. I'm sure I'd heard the words in my life. I didn't know what they were. And, um, because it didn't apply to me. And I walked into that place and they, you know, took all my stuff and put me in jammies. And I, um, I started to read the literature. And they had like the big book. And I thought, I'm not going to be here that long. And, um, but they had some pamphlets. I thought light reading. I'll do some light reading. And I started reading those pamphlets and they were talking about never drinking again. And I freaked out. I thought, oh my God, Madeline, you drama queen. What have you gotten yourself into? These people were talking about not drinking ever again. And, uh, trying to think who I could call to come bail me out. And, and this little voice said, you know what? Normal people do not get themselves locked up. Wearing jammies, thinking about how they're not an alcoholic and all they can think about is drinking. Right? Right now, you might want to stay and listen. And I can tell you my, my moment there was I had a roommate who was brought in. Um, and she was a beautiful, tall British nurse, very proper, who had a bad habit of a little for you and a lot for her. Um, and she, um, she had a little boy the same age as my little girl. Cause he all of a sudden remembered I had this little girl. I had this child that was just out of mind because he, the lie I told myself was I made a lot of money. She's well cared for. And my drinking doesn't hurt anybody. And it was my moment to look at myself and say, my drinking does hurt someone else. Cause see, I'd done the little hash marks for how long I was going to be there. Like a little prisoner with the little golf pencil. Like they're afraid you're going to kill yourself with an eraser. I don't know what the deal is, but, um, I realized I put myself in there for my brother's wedding. Okay. I'd have been drunk. I realized I was in there for Thanksgiving, but when I realized I placed myself in there for Christmas was my moment of taking my own time. Okay. I was in my own inventory because I just thought, oh my God, Madeline, you're not going to be home for Christmas. She's not going to have you. And I remember I started to cry and then I just started to just uncontrollably sob and wail. And, um, I remember my poor roommate who didn't know me, she'd only been in the room for an hour. She starts coming over and trying to comfort me with this little cold pat. And all of a sudden I saw her and I'm screaming, I'm a terrible mother. I've disappointed my child. I can't believe him. And I'm just, you know, hysterics and, and she's trying to comfort me, but all of a sudden I start to see her shoulders giving and, and all of a sudden she does. And I always remember because she said, oh, Madeline, how did we get ourselves into this bloody effing mess? I remember the director of that rehab who was a member of our fellowship came in and he was trying to put us back together. And there were piles of snotty toilet paper. And, um, he was sitting in the sea of snot. And anyway, I, I remember him saying, you're going to be giving your kids the best Christmas present you could ever give them. And I thought, oh, what a bunch of hooey. She is three years old and she wants toys. And more than anything, she wants her mom to be home. She wants me to be there with her. And I can tell you that, um, 25 years later, the best Christmas present, the best birthday. The best birthday. The best anything I've ever given my child was becoming a sober mother in Alcoholics Anonymous. Hands down. I had no clue how to be mom and you showed me. You know, my first sponsor had no children and she, my kid grew up in these rooms. She was, you know, you always recognize those alabrats. They got the happy meal and the coloring book in the corner. And, um, but she grew up with all of them. All of your love, all of your affection, all of that unconditional stuff we do here. My sponsor was sitting in a meeting and feed her full of so much chocolate that she was like jacked up higher than a prom dress in June. And, um, and then she's like, here, she's yours. Um, but you taught me how to love my child because you showed me what love was. And you let her be safe in these rooms. I got to tell you, you know, I, my child got the worst of my drinking. She deserved the best of my sobriety. And when I was at my best was when I was with you always still today. You know, she grew up knowing all about this incredible loving spirit, this higher power we have here. A center to religious schools. They ain't got nothing on what she got here in alcoholics. Not on this. You know, I had, I've had quite a few people who've lived in my home through the years. And I remember she was little and she's a chatty child. We're at the dentist office and she was talking to this little old lady. And she was telling her all about. The uncles who stayed at her house all the time, sleeping on the sofa. And, and, um, I'm getting the stink eye from this woman. And, um, and I thought there is no way I'm going to explain to her that these are the incredible men that I, that I am friends with in alcoholics anonymous, who can come over my house, hang out, sleep on my couch and no, and there's no issues there. And I don't have to be afraid and I don't have to be concerned, but I was not having that conversation at the dentist's office. So she was just going to have to think about it. I think I was a hoe. So, but the most important thing that happened to me in that rehab was I got introduced to alcoholics anonymous because it was one of those places. Meetings were brought in from outside seven nights a week. Volunteers came in and did big book studies and step studies with us all day long. We, it was, it was, it was hands down the most. And I remember when I got there, I remember thinking, God, don't I have better insurance than this? I mean, I always remember that British, you know, nurse of my, my roommates in front of the toilet going, oh my God, I can't remember the last time I had my hand in a toilet. Um, and, uh, you know, they made you clean and do all that stuff. And, and it was incredible. And, and what they gave me was that foundation. They started that foundation for me because I knew that my life was unmanageable. I had never said I was powerless over anything. And that came to believe and made that decision. See, I grew up in the church. And what I had to realize was that I knew all about God, but I didn't know God. There was a huge difference. I could tell you cast of characters and all that stuff. I had all this clutter, baggage, but I had no clue about having a personal relationship with a power greater than myself. That was there for me, not against me. And I had to really, part of working those steps was undoing a whole lot of stuff. I have no idea if what I think I heard was even said in church as a child. Because I was the, I was the, you know, adolescent who was waiting for any excuse to get out of there because I needed to drink. So I was going to take issue and twist and turn anything you said. So I needed to get away from there. So I came in here and I, I, I was willing to say, okay, when you got a loaded gun to your head, it really takes away a whole lot of the arguments. Is there, isn't there, there damn sure better be something power, more powerful than me that's going to help me. And I gave a whole lot of lip service to God. When I got here. And if you followed me around, I had the actions of someone who did not believe in anything. Because I was constantly taking that power back. But it was that progress, not perfection. I was not one of those people who got here and could lollygag on the steps. For me, not drinking and not working the steps is like throwing up and not opening your mouth. You're going to feel a little bit better for a minute. But then it's going to get really bad. Really, really bad. And I had, you know, I asked this old guy that I met in that rehab. He was a volunteer and he'd been sober since Jesus was a little kid. And his name was Frenchie. He was an old coon ass. And I asked him if he would help me find a sponsor. And he said, sure. Because he knew everybody. And he came back and he said, if you call this woman, she'll be your temporary sponsor. And I called her up and she was very sweet on the phone. And I found out. Later, that was an act. And she said, great. I'm sure in the meeting, your first night out, I'll be easy to spot. And I walked into that meeting and sat down and she waved at me. And I immediately looked at her and said, no. She hadn't opened her mouth. All she'd done was smile and wave. And I did that thing, you know. I don't know if anyone else in here. I'd use my little female eyes and went, no. No. And then I went to have coffee with her and her oldest baby and that baby. And anyway, I really knew it was a mistake. And they didn't even try to hide the fact that they thought I was full of it. They like rolled around in the booth and slapped each other. And I was telling them how I was going to stay sober. And I can tell you that it wasn't long before I called that woman and I said, my program's not working. I'm afraid I'm going to drink. And she said, good. Meet me tonight at the meeting. Our program works perfectly. And what she did was. She opened up that book and she said, this is the fourth step. We took that third step prayer together. And she said, this is the fourth step. This is how you do it. Be at my house in a week. Greatest gift she gave me. No delay. And she said, you know, this isn't about who pulled your pigtails in the third grade. This stuff is right here in your face. And she said, you know, I'll be your sponsor. But my job is guidance and direction. If you don't want it, that's fine. My guidance and direction is we get all the way in this program. We don't sit back eating the crumbs. We eat the whole. We eat banquet. And she said, you participate in your home group. You're responsible. You show up. And you reach out your hand to others. She was the kind of woman who would not let me talk to her after a meeting until I'd gone and talked to every new woman in that room. Somehow, I didn't have anything to talk to her about anymore. After I'd gone, I looked into the eyes of someone who had it worse than me. But I met her that week later. And that was one of the most important things for me. Because I was the girl who hid behind the walls. And as much as I sat in these rooms and you tried to tell me how much you loved me. And cared about me. I had that stiff arm that said, but if you really knew me, you wouldn't feel that way. No one who really knew who Madeline was would ever, ever want to be in the same room with her. And so the most important things I shared with her in that fifth step were not the things I'd done. Because you people shared that stuff like at a meeting. I had this irresistible urge when I got sober. Y'all would just be like blah, blah, blah. And I'd want to go, shh, shh. Don't be telling people that stuff. And you just like talked about it. Laughing. Laughing. Um. The things I was terrified to tell her were the things I felt and I thought. You know, that crazy stuff that runs around up there that tells me you're worthless. And if anybody knew what you thought, they wouldn't want to sit next to you. And somehow I shared that stuff with her and she shared hers with me. And I walked from there knowing that she loved me more. It was that alcoholic math that didn't make any sense at all. She loved me more when she realized. She really knew me. And I love in the book where it talks about taking that hour. And seeing if anything's left undone. And moving on. You know, I'm a fan of the literature. You know, my friend Jim always says, you know, the good thing about alcoholics and non-alcoholics is we've got a whole bunch of great literature. The bad thing is we've got a whole bunch of great literature. But there is so much beautiful stuff in our literature. But in that seventh step, it talks about humility and it calls it a precious quality in the 12 and 12. And I had humility so confused. I really thought it had to do with that humiliation I felt. And for me, that humility is the ability to be human. Let me be human and let you be human. Because, see, I love to scream for justice when I should be begging for mercy. I want to hold you to this one standard and me to a different one. And in that seventh step, when it talks about humility being a precious quality, it says, It says, It's a secret handshake. I've got to change. Not the world around me. I've got to change. Starting with that inventory process. Owning my stuff. And then, you know, what Sandy talked about last night, forgiveness. I heard a talk one time, or I saw a paper. It was done by some psychologist. Psychologist said, If people could forgive, 97% of the world's therapists and counselors and psychiatrists would be out of a job. You know, it's that hanging on to my entitlement. And making those amends was one of those things that was so important to me. And see, I was a girl who said I was sorry all the time. And that was just to manipulate you. It was just to get the heat off. It was so you wouldn't hit me. It was for whatever reason. But it was not an, honest amends. It was not saying I was wrong. And what can I do to make this right? And, you know, I had a sponsor who did the three column thing. You do now, maybe later, and never. And then you're supposed to shift those columns as you get them done. And I can tell you that my now column were the ones that were eating my lunch. Or the ones I knew would pat me on my head and say, Oh, honey, we just love you anyway. Um, check. Um. But I had six people on my never column. And I had said, when I made those columns, I was willing to be willing. And, um, five of those people, I didn't know their last names. And I ran into every single one of them in the next six months. I live in a city of four million people. And I run into every single one of them. And I'm not like in the bar where I met them before. Um, I'd be at some work conference and be like, Oh my God, no kidding. You've got to be kidding me. But I knew it was no mistake. That God had put these people in my life so I could be free. It was the one sentence that jumped out at me the first time I read the big book. Being able to look the world in the eye. I hadn't done it in a long time. And, uh, the other person on that list was my father. I knew his last name. But that relationship had never been good. And, um, and I, and he only came to town once a year and it was Christmas. And I'll be damned if he didn't show up. And my first instinct was to run. But I didn't. And, uh, I met that man. And I made amends to him. And he never said anything other than, I'm so glad. I'm so glad. You're doing well. And I'm so glad you're happy. And safe. Now, several weeks later, I got a notice in the post office saying that I had mail that had been lost. I had a postal deliverer who was putting it in a garbage bag behind his house. And, um, not delivering mail. And, and, uh, we had this whole neighborhood that had been not getting all of their mail. Um, and, uh, so I went down to pick up my mail. And in there, in this garbage bag, was a letter from my father. And in there, he took me to task. And I was able to read that letter. And I was able to own what I, that what he said was true. Because I'd taken my own inventory, not his. I remember I called my sponsor. And I read her the letter. And we cried. And we burned it in the ashtray. And what the deal is about burning stuff in the ashtray? Am I the only person in the room? Um, but we burned it ceremoniously in the ashtray. And I got off the phone. And I hit my knees. Because I knew that my God was so good. I knew that my God was so good. And my God was so big that he would screw with the U.S. Postal Service to make me make amends. And, um, I mean. And I can tell you that relationship was never right. You know? And I don't know if there's anyone else in here who, you know, you get sober. And you see those families come back together. And you see Donna Reed and her daughter Mary and blah, blah. And I didn't have that. One of the greatest gifts I got from doing that inventory and making those amends was accepting those people around me like my own. My family, exactly as they were, with no expectations for them to be any different. And then when stuff did happen, it was huge. It might have been an everyday occurrence in your family. But for me, it'd be huge. You know, I remember the first time my oldest sister told me that she loved me. I was 29 years old and I'd never heard those words. And it was because she was making amends to me for something she'd done. Examples. You know, but it's... It set up that precedent in my family that we're able to say those things to each other. You taught me how to tell my mom, I love you. I love you. And then when she started saying it back. And then when she started saying it first. I didn't... I grew up in this very emotionally distant family. You taught me how to hug. I got a kid hugs everybody because she grew up in AA. You taught me how to be a different person. And so for me, those amends were so important. Just like 10, 11, and 12 are still so important. You know, I call it the drunk trap. You know, if I'm trying to, you know, have this wonderful contact with God in 11, if I've got stuff left undone in 10, it's going to bite me. I'm not going to be able to have that sunlight of spirit if I've got stuff left undone. You know, I remember the first time I had to make amends to my daughter. She was like 6 or 7. I screamed at her all morning long. I got up on the wrong side of the bed. Just yelled at this kid. And took her to school. And I'm like, bleh, bleh, bleh. And she like gets out of the car and I'm like, have a nice day. And she like slammed the door. And when she did, it like knocked me back into consciousness. And I remember thinking, oh my God, you are your mother. It's exactly what she did. You were the scapegoat. You were her punching bag for her anger. And it just killed me. I did not want to be my mother. And instead of owning it and going back in that school and grabbing that child, I called, oh, it ate me all day. And when she got out of that school at 3, I couldn't wait to make amends to her. And she got in the car. It was a new day for her. Zippy-doo-doo-dah. She got in the car. And I remember I said, Laura, I've got to tell you, I am so sorry. The way I talked to you this morning was wrong. I had no right to talk to you that way ever. I was in a bad mood. And I used you. And I hope I never do it again. I had no right to do it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please forgive me. And she turned and she looked at me and she said, But you're my mom. You're supposed to yell at me. I was like, yeah. And I said, no, I'm not. I am your mom. And I don't have the right to talk to you that way. I'm terribly sorry. Please forgive me. And she said, but you're the best mom in the whole world. And I was like, all right, God, get off the knife. Get off the knife. This one hurts. I got it. All right. But what it did was it set up that again with that child. That she could come to me and say I was wrong. I'm sorry. Please forgive me, my mom. I had that child. I was able to have a kid that grew up knowing that she could call me if she got herself in a bad situation. And no questions asked, I couldn't get her. I didn't grow up with that. You taught me how to have a life I never even dreamed of. You know, this is a kid who wrote her senior. They had to write a paper when she was a senior in high school on the most influential people of the century. She came in and said, help me. I want to write it on Bill Wilson. I want to write it on. The co-founder of Alcoholics Anonymous. Because to her, that was the most important thing in her life. She's grown up in these rooms. She's done a whole lot of 12-step work. Her friends hated coming to our house. They were like, your mama's got eyes in the back of her head. How come she always knows what we're doing? And the worst part is when they would walk into a meeting, they'd be like, Mrs. P, what are you doing here? I'd be like, saving you a seat, sweetheart. I knew you'd make it. I knew you'd make it. That incredible relationship I have with her today. You know, I went from the woman who didn't want to have this child to feeling like a good and useful mother. And that my child knows that she is loved, loved, loved. I have a little grandson. He's four. Gavin the Gargantuan. My proudest moment was when I taught him to say douche nozzle. Not her parents' proudest moment. But, you know, I love the life I've been given here, but it hasn't always been easy. You know, and I tell you, when I got here, the people I clung to were not the people who had the Midas-touched sobriety where everything turned to gold. It was the people that life was happening, and they were dealing with it. And today, I still cling to those people. Because, you know, I've moved in sobriety. I've divorced in sobriety. I can tell you, moving is one of the most difficult times in someone's sobriety. I learned to watch for people when they come into my group and they just move from somewhere else. Because it's never like where you came from. And it's so easy to get disconnected and drift away. And then you find the lucky ones who make their way back and say, I stopped going to meetings. And I moved, and I remember I moved to Pocatello, Idaho in 1993. And I remember I immediately got involved in service, because that's what you taught me how to do. And I remember I had a friend one day, she was a normal non-alcoholic, and she said, God, I just don't know how you did it. I mean, it's just like you just connected him with people. And she knew I was in the program, but really didn't really understand. And she said, he just like made friends, and you've got things you're doing, and people you go with. She said, I swear, I lived here for three years before I had a really close friend. And I looked at her and I said, well, Carrie, drink like a pig and destroy your life. You can have friends everywhere you go. I don't know a lot of people who can do that. But that was the secret to my success. And, you know, I moved, and I had to, you know, embrace the fact that it was different. And that people were staying sober in Idaho, even though they did it different than Texas. And I remember I served as a delegate for Idaho. And then I served as... I was a Pacific Regional Trustee to the General Service Board from 2006 to 2010. And what it did for me was it allowed me to know so many incredible people. It's not about going to New York, because I hate the place. I'm a wide-open spaces girl. But it was about all the people I got to meet. Because you're like that beautiful, beautiful agate that you find someplace, and you pick up and you take home with you. And you always remember that person, that conversation, that sitting... with each other at dinner, having a cup of coffee. You always remember that connection you had with that human being. That's what it was about being serviced. It sure wasn't about titles. I can tell you that I went through a really hard time a few years ago, because I'd been... I'm married in sobriety, and I love this man with my whole heart, because, see, I'm a golden retriever. You know? I commit. And I truly believe he loved me more than he's loved anyone. But... the time came when I had to leave that relationship, because there were things that were going on that were not okay with me. And you taught me about the kind of woman I want to be in sobriety. And I had people who questioned, well, are you sure you want to leave, you know, your lifestyle, your things? And I was like, you know, I can't live that way in sobriety. Path gets narrower. I've got to be able to look me in the eye, still today. But it was not pretty. I have never been engulfed in so much sorrow and anger as I did through that. It was just like being early sober. At 22 years, 23 years, I was dying. And I moved, and I started going to meetings where I knew people. And the people who... I had two friends, one of them who's a past delegate there, who hounded me, rode me like Zorro. He'd be like, you know, my hunger, Rule 62, starting in 20 minutes. And I'd be like, I'm at the grocery store. He's like... Better go home and throw that shit in the refrigerator. And I'd go out there. And what I fell into was this group of women that were incredible. Absolutely incredible. Now, I scared the men in the group, because I'm from Texas, and I talk about running people over with my car. And the women were like, woo, yeah, let's go. I'll drive. I've got a truck. And they wrapped me up in the middle of their arms, and they let me walk through it. And they let me... I'd be as crazy as I needed to be and as hurt as I needed to be until I got to the other side. My sponsor, God bless her soul, who just held my hand and kept me on that path. And I'd call her just hysterical crying, so much pain. And she'd say, we're going to write a letter. We're going to write a really nasty letter, but we're not going to mail it, sweetheart. But we're going to get this stuff out. And I wrote, and I'll tell you what I got down to when I wrote that, was that I still had that old idea that somehow, if I manage well, with over 20 years of sobriety, that if I work hard enough, and I try to be good enough, and I try to be pretty enough, that this stuff won't happen to me in sobriety. It's that fine print I put at the bottom of my contract with my higher power, that somehow I will get that. That get out of jail free card, and life won't happen to me. And I can tell you what I had to come to know is that I still get wet when it rains. Me being sober didn't let me escape life. And I'm going to feel joy like I've never felt joy, and I'm going to feel sorrow like I've never felt before too, because I've opened myself up, and I don't have those walls up anymore. You know, my biggest fear is that I would never heal. And I don't think I'm healed, but I know I'm on the road. And it's because I was surrounded by this loving fellowship that carried me when I couldn't walk. By people who just allowed me to be where I was at. I think one of the biggest death sentences we can give to someone with time is, I expect more from you. You should be weller than that. What a bunch of horse shit. I'm the sickest person in the room. I'm just as close to a drink as that person who walked in with one day. And I can never place those expectations on somebody to be anything other than exactly where they're at. And just help them on their journey. You know, our literature is not meant to be a club that we beat people with. Our literature speaks to love, and tolerance, and kindness. And it definitely doesn't speak to that judgment that we can place on, I know, on myself and on someone else and taking their inventory. I need to love you and support you, not hope that you trip and fall. I want to close with my favorite. It's a story. It's, um... And especially when it comes to serving Alcoholics Anonymous in whatever capacity it is you serve. Because, you know, the service manual says... I always have to read this. Our 12th step, carrying the message, is the basic service that the AA Fellowship gives. This is our principal aim and the main reason for our existence. Therefore, AA is more than a set of principles. It's a society of alcoholics in action. We must carry the message, else we ourselves can wither and lose those who haven't been given the truth may die. Hence, an AA service is anything, whatever, that helps us to reach a fellow sufferer, ranging all the way from the 12th step itself to a 10-cent phone call and a cup of coffee, and to AA's General Service Office for national and international action. The sum total of all these services is our third legacy of service. No service is greater than another. I've been a corrections junkie. I know how we like to tell people we're the most important people. But I had to know that whatever it is that I said, all right, God, I'm willing. When they asked me if I was willing to do anything for victory over alcohol, and I said yes, I had to be willing. But the most dangerous place I can be is if I start to believe my own press. And it can be a heady deal in alcoholics anonymous when you start to believe that you're something other than a drunk. So I want you to picture this as we close. I want you to... Because I know in my own area, you know, and I know in my travels, sometimes they make a big deal out of you when you're a delegate. They expect you to, like, walk on water and heal blind people on the weekends or something. And they make a big fuss. You know, while the coffee maker that everybody's enjoying, you know, reaping the benefits of that coffee, they forget all about that coffee maker or that woman who's always there with a smile on her face. Her name's Hope. So I want you to picture that it is Palm Sunday, and Jesus is riding into Jerusalem on his donkey. And the streets are packed. I mean, you can't squeeze another person in there. There are throngs of people singing praises, waving palms, throwing flowers, singing hail to the Messiah, the Chosen One. I mean, it is absolutely awe-inspiring. And I want you to think for just a minute, what if the donkey thought all that was for him? What if he thought all that was for him? He sees the same thing. And don't I do that as a trusted servant in Alcoholics Anonymous. Have the tendency to want to think all the hoo-ha and the applause or the fanfare is about me instead of this beautiful message of recovery. So I always need to remember, it's not about me. I'm just the jackass that just carried the message. Thanks. Thank you.