1981. The booze stopped working, but the insanity remained. Russell S. doesn't deal in Hallmark platitudes; he deals in the wreckage of a mind that runs a million miles per hour. For Russell, sobriety isn't just not drinking—it's the difference between being a "thumb-sucking crybaby" and rocking in the fourth dimension of existence. He describes the alcoholic as a "please love me-aholic," a man who views a beautiful woman as a "bottle of scotch with legs" and spends his days murdering fifty people in his head.
He recounts the grit of emotional sobriety through a series of blunt collisions: a bounced $500 check and a marriage of forty years. He recalls his sponsor cutting through his noise with a simple, lethal question: "How would you feel if it didn't bother you?" To Russell, the only way out of the jail of the self is a complete psychic change. He argues that without a Higher Power, you aren't sober—you're just on the wagon, waiting to crash.
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