Spiritual Awakening Is the Desired Result — Sobriety Is Just the Byproduct – Otto M.

Man, you guys don't fool around. We just cut right through the tape. My program said seven. Okay. I'm from on and on, so I need all the help I can get here to get me to stop. Don't want to turn this into a two-CD talk for encore there. Isn't that cute? I'm just the right height. It looks like I'm just a little daffodil there, doesn't it? I'm not seven yet. I wasn't ready. I was going to introduce my wife, but I won't do that to her now. Okay, I'm auto. I'm alcoholic if you can't figure it out. I'm going to have some fun tonight. I hope you all do, too. I like doing this. And when I stop enjoying it, I'm going to quit doing it. Anyway, I want to thank everybody that made it possible for me to get to come to Southern California again. I love to come out here. This is a wonderful place. And it's a beautiful place. It's a beautiful place. It's a beautiful facility. And you guys have got a first-class get-together going on here. And I'm really excited to be a part of it. And I appreciate you letting me help and make it possible for my wife to come with me. She doesn't get to do that very often. And I like her, which is good. I like to hang out with her. So this is good that I don't have to spend the weekend away from her. The folks in New York said I could bring her. And I said, well, they'd have to do that because it was her birthday was the day I was going to be there. And then they reneged. So anyway, I'm still praying for them. But Steve and everybody, where is Willis? Hey, dude. We've been talking to him for months. I haven't met him yet. Nice to see you. Glad you're here. Okay. See, this is why I run out of time. See, I just get going to do this. Thanks for the basket. And I am alcoholic. I'm from Oklahoma City. Originally, I've been clean and sober since July 11th, 1985. For that, I'm really grateful. I got sober in Oklahoma City. It's a great place to get sober. And as I am sure anywhere you got sober is a great place to get sober. But I grew up in Oklahoma City and born and raised there. I grew up in a little tiny house about 900 square feet right outside Turn 2, the auto race track. So when the cars would come around Turn 2, they'd throw mud out in my front yard. And I thought that was really cool, you know. Now, I had no idea about real estate and location, location, location, you know. But I loved growing up outside the racetrack. And I had no idea that my family was anything but normal. When things went on in my house, that was just my... You know, I thought that's the way it was everywhere. I'm kind of selfish and self-centered. I don't know about you, but I kind of think the way that I see things and the way I experience things is the way things are. And any deviation from the way I see things or feel about things and the way you see things and feel about things, well, that's how far off base you are. And so I had no idea that what I was experiencing was different from the norm. But I grew up in a home where my mom and dad married and divorced each other three times before I got out of high school. You know, they couldn't live with each other. They couldn't live without each other. There was a lot of chaos. There was a lot of violence in that home. And I was eager to get out of that house. It was a difficult childhood at best. I tell people I have a photographic memory because I don't remember much about my childhood. But I do remember the photographs of my childhood. And, you know, when I think, when I reflect back on my childhood, before I got sober, I'd remember the picture of me holding that little car, the picture of me sitting on the swings of the teeter-totters. I really didn't have much recollection of my childhood at all. In my family, we were the kind of family that would give each other alcohol and drugs for birthdays and Christmas. You know? And I was glad to get it. You know, a favorite topic at our house was whoever wasn't there. You were fair game. Nobody. Whoever apologized or admitted a wrong in our house. If you screwed up, then you'd say, I didn't mean it or I was just kidding. Nobody ever said, I'm sorry or I shouldn't have said that. My family, we have to send generic greeting cards. You know, you can't get that real mushy Mother's Day card or that real gushy Daddy's Day card. You just got to find the one that says, Happy Mother's Day. Because anything else is a lie. You know? You know, you send that card. I was with my dad one time when he got a Father's Day card for my sister. And they had been estranged for a long time. But he was near death. And she reached out to him and she sent him a Father's Day card. And it just said, Happy Father's Day. And she signed it, Love, Anna. And I was there when he opened that card. And he looked at it and he went, What do you think she means by that? You know, we communicate with innuendo and insinuation. Nobody says what they mean or means what they say. And I left there thinking that I had it pretty together. You know, I got some good tools and I'm on my way. I'm the only member of my family of six to graduate from high school. Neither of my younger brothers nor my older sister or either of my parents finished high school. Much less went on to college. And I was eager to get out of that house, as you can imagine, and go on to college. I went to Oklahoma State University in Stillwater, Oklahoma. Where I commenced to drink. I went the way any good alcoholic who liked to drink like I like to drink would drink. And I never, ever thought that drinking was a problem for me. I like to drink. I enjoy a drink. I don't know much I'd rather do than drink. And drinking's fun. I have a good time when I'm drinking. These are cute. No useful purpose for a lid once it comes off the bottle. I joined a fraternity, you know, I wanted to have some fun, and those boys knew how to drink. And, oh, I didn't do very good in school, you know. Spent a little too much time drinking. I drank, when I drink I do crazy things. I go places I wouldn't normally go. I say things I might not say when I'm not drinking. You know, I do things that I might not do when I'm not drinking. I spend money I don't have when I'm... I get in trouble. I get in trouble when I'm drinking. And I even... The fraternity that I pledged was Sigmouth Epsilon, and they made me a dry pledge. Can you imagine that? They told me, Otto, you can't drink anymore until you become a member of this fraternity. You are a dry pledge because you embarrass us. Now, you've got to go somewhere to embarrass the frat boys. But I can say one, I just... I have no inhibitions when I drink, you know what I mean? Two and two is four. That's up, that's down. I don't give a damn. Back in the 60s, streaking was really popular. Some of you all aren't old enough to remember the 60s, but getting naked and running around campus was cool. Okay? We had songs on the radio. They called me the streak. And I mean, when I would get to drinking, my pants would just... It wasn't a question of when are they coming off, it's, you know... Or if they'll come off, it's where's he going to do it this time? You know, the balcony or where's he going to be? And I did that at my... Mom's day. They weren't impressed. They didn't find the humor in it that I found, and they made me a dry pledge. And they told me I could drink after I got initiated. Well, I don't know about any of you, but nobody's going to tell me I can't drink. So needless to say, I never got initiated into that fraternity, you know? Because I thought that was hazing. They were just hazing me is what they were doing, you know? I never accepted responsibility for the consequences of it, whatever I did when I was drinking. I could always find... Somebody else to blame it on. I could always find an excuse or a reason for why I did what I did, and it never had anything to do with my consumption. You know, I didn't eat enough, or I ate too much, or I'm tired, or I'm under a lot of stress, or... You know, there's always some reason why. It was never the drinking. Denial is... You know, our book doesn't talk about denial. Our book talks about delusion. Because I promise you, for me, denial kind of has a connotation of a lie. You know, I used to deny a lot of stuff that I did. You know, and like we had a president that once said, I did not have sexual relations with that woman, Ms. Lewinsky. Now, I believe that's a denial. And you know what? He may be in denial. I don't know. But to me, that, you know, denial, river, Egypt, all that, that's cute. Ha ha. I didn't get it. But delusion, I understand. You see? Because when somebody would say, Otto, we think you drink too much. And I would say, no, I don't. I enjoy drinking. I was not lying. That was my truth. You know, and I had a lot of wonderful people try to help me with the drinking problem. And they would suggest to me, and they would put... I went to therapy, and I've seen therapists and counselors, and I've been to marriage counseling. And I'm married and divorced, and married and divorced. And it's amazing. If we don't recover, we repeat. You know? And my brothers are married and divorced. And married and divorced, and married and divorced. And my sisters, married and divorced, and married and divorced, and married and divorced. We don't have a family tree. We got a family thicket. Okay? Yeah. Anyway, I just, I never saw drinking as a problem. So when somebody was suggesting to me that I had a problem, and I said, no, I was not lying. It was my truth. I like to drink. I drink just fine. Mind your own business. Thank you. Matter of fact, you might want to buy me a drink, because I'm a pretty angry alcoholic. And I got a lot to be angry about. You know, I'm an excuse drinker. I'm an excuse drinker. I drink. I drink. I drink. I drink. I drink. I drink at people. In the eighth step in the 12 and 12 in our book, it says that defective relationships are the cause of most all our problems, including our alcoholism. And, you know, I was mad at people all the time. I'd be drinking at you just, just all the time. And I had a lot to be angry about, you know. I didn't do very good in school, so I fell under what they call the draft. Now, they don't have a draft nowadays. We have an all-volunteer. We have an all-volunteer army. That's cute, isn't it? Anyway, I got drafted. And for the old you all that are too young to know what the draft is, they just come and say, come on. And you get to go be a soldier. And they drafted me into the U.S. Army. I thought that was okay. You know, I wasn't doing real good in school. And they really didn't have the money to send me to school. And I wasn't doing well enough to earn any kind of a scholarship or anything. So I thought, well, I'll go into service, and then I'll do my two years, and then I'll come out, and I'll go back to school on the GI Bill. And that sounded like a pretty good plan to me. Now, I don't know about you, but my best thinking sucks, okay? My best plans do not work. And, you know, the first step was such a gift for me that the second part of the first step where it says, and our lives have become unmanageable, because I thought I was just a screw-up. I just hated me for not being able to wrestle some kind of success and happiness out of my life, because I was really trying hard. I am dancing as fast as I can to be a good son, to be a good husband, to be a good brother, to be a good citizen. To be a good soldier. I mean, what do I got to do? You know, and it's not working for me. It doesn't work. And so I loathed me, because, you know, I grew up learning that practice makes perfect, and where there's a will, there's a way. And anyone can, you can. And quitters never win, and winners never quit. And exceptions are made for exceptional people. And you can do anything you put your mind to. And, man, what's wrong with me? You know? Plus, you know, I wasn't supposed to feel bad. That was another lesson. Don't feel bad. God, I feel bad all the time, you know? Don't feel. I didn't have, I never learned how to feel. I knew two emotions. Happy and pissed. You know? There's a whole range of emotions in between there, and I didn't know that. You know, I had no idea that it was okay to be uncomfortable, or lonely, or frustrated. I didn't know. Nobody ever taught me. And, anyway, it was just a lot easier for me to drink. But the denial, I got lost. Hello. Have another drink. You'll come back. Oh, I was talking about delusion, wasn't I? Okay. So, I could always justify, rationalize, minimize, explain away my drinking, such that it wasn't my drinking that was the problem. Because if drinking was my problem, well, I'd have to quit. You know, I know there's many among us that have tried to quit, and tried to quit, and tried to quit, and tried to quit. My heart goes out to you, but I have no, I cannot empathize with you because I have no experience. I never tried to quit. Not drinking was an insane idea. I could not imagine my life without alcohol. I never tried, you know? And I drank, and I'm a puking drunk. I'm a guy who throws up a lot. I threw up from the time I was a teenager and first started drinking all the way through my whole drinking career. And, matter of fact, towards the end of my drinking career, I'm at the car races in Florida. Now, I like to go to NASCAR races. I like to go to sprint car races. I'll go to anywhere. I grew up across the street from the racetrack, so anywhere they're running in circles, I'll go watch. You know, I got to. I got to. A license tag on my car says race nut. You know, and I'll get in my car, and I'll drive to Daytona, Florida for the car races. I'll drive hundreds of miles with the forecast of rain, just hoping they'll warm up. You know, I mean, I'm addicted to racing. So, anyway, I'm down in Florida for speed weeks at the Daytona 500, and I went by myself. Like I said, it's towards the end of my drinking. I pretty much run off all my friends. I'm unemployed and unemployable, and I'm estranged from my kids, and I'm not married at the time. And, uh... And, uh... I got down there, and I met some good old boys. Now, I don't know about you guys, but I never hook up with the cute little family with their children, carrying the little playmates up into the grandstand. You know, I always hook up with the big burly boys. You know, the guys with the big bellies and the t-shirts. You know, carrying the big styrofoam cooler up into the grandstand, you know. Those are my kind of guys, and I hook up with them. These guys happen to be from Lindsay, Oklahoma, so we had a lot in common. We're from the same state. And, uh... And, uh... And, uh... And, uh... And, uh... And, uh... And, uh... And, uh... And, uh... And, uh... And, uh... We got to going to all the racetracks and drinking beer and eating, just having a good time. We went to the Tampa State Fair, Tampa, Florida. The State Fair, Florida was going on during Speed Weeks, and they were racing late models on a dirt mile. And we got to grandstands early that afternoon, and we watched those cars go in circle all day, boy. And, uh... We was drinking that cold beer, and I like to eat some medication. I require medication. And, uh... And, uh... I'm eating those pills all day, and I'm watching those cars. And, uh... Man, I just love it. And, uh... And... After a while, the races were over, and we... The fair's going on, so we went and walked around the fairgrounds, and we... You know, we're just looking at the girls, and... And, uh... Throwing balls at Kewpie dolls, and... Eating corny dogs and things, and... And having a good time. And then we left there and went to a nightclub. Now I'm in my environment. Because I like to dance. And y'all just wait until they fire that band up tonight. And I know all you girls are going to want me. I know it. I know it. I know it. This shows the world. Just remember, my wife is here. Okay? Anyway, I'm having a good time at this nightclub. We're dancing in a place called The Pit. It's a big hole you go down in and you dance. And I like to drink bourbon. I drink beer at the racetrack, because that's all they sell, and that's all they'll let you bring in. Although I have been known to bring a flask. But I like to drink bourbon. And so at The Pit, I got to drinking my bourbon. A whole lot of bourbon, a little bit of Coke. That's the way I like to drink it. And I've been drinking... Oh! 12, 14 hours this day. And I don't know about you, but after a while, it's hot. You know, it's just... I have to go outside, and it's cold in February, and 2 in the morning in Florida, you know. But the sweat's just rolling off me, and I'm holding on to the cars so that I don't fall down. If you've ever done this, and you just want to... I wonder if I'm an alcoholic. If you've ever done this, you might want to look real hard, okay? But anyway... That stuff just comes blowing out of my face. It's all over the cars. It's all over my pants and my fake alligator boots. I don't know. It's coming out of my nose. Oh, God, I'm sick. Go back in the club and get me another drink. I had to wash that taste out of my mouth. That was awful. Tell that little girl, the one that I've chosen... Got a big sore right here on her lip, you know. I tell you, I go places I wouldn't normally go when I'm drinking. Boy, I got sick. I got sick. You won't believe. Oh, man. I'm telling you, I will never, ever, ever again, as long as I live, ever, eat another State Fair corndog. Oh, damn, that greasy thing made me sick. And that was my truth. That made perfect sense to me. That was my truth. That was my truth. That was my truth. That was my truth. That was my truth. That was my truth. That's up, that's down, two and two is four, and that corndog made me sick. See, because I drink just fine, thank you. I like to drink. I enjoy drinking. I love to dance. Oh, God. So I never had a clue that I had a drinking problem. But I had a lot of problems. And they were a good excuse to drink. You know, when they drafted me into the service, they put me in the infantry. Can you imagine that? A slick whistle like me? Man, I was class president and top ten. I was in student council. I was voted friendliest boy at my school. Don't they know? You know, I should have been a general's aide. I should have been in charge of the motor pool. They could have made me a drill instructor. I could have taught those boys how to go. I don't know, but I could have taught them. But instead, they put me in the infantry. And they sent me to basic training and advanced infantry training and NCOCS. And I went to jump school and did everything I could do to avoid going to Vietnam. But I only had a year left to serve and it was time to go. And there was nothing that could have prepared me for the horrors of war. And for all of you who have served, thank you and welcome home. Whether it be Vietnam or Iraq, Korea, I don't care. And for those of you who have loved ones who have served, thank you too. Because even though I grew up in that. In that violent, chaotic home, I thought I was pretty tough. Nothing could prepare me for war. Most of the men I saw die or get wounded, I didn't even know who they were. Because we don't make friends. You know, when somebody new comes in, he's the effing new guy. And you don't get to know him. He's desperate for somebody to take him under their wing. But you don't get to know the new guy because you don't expect him to be there long. And so I didn't have, you know, I look back on my Vietnam experience and I don't know many people. I don't remember many people that I served with. And I still have all kinds of idiosyncrasies and quirks because of my combat experiences. I was in Vietnam during the monsoons. I was up in the jungles and it would rain every night. And we'd lay in that mud and that cold and that wet. And leeches would get on us. Can't see your hand in front of your face. It's so dark in the jungle. And yet you know the enemy's out there. And I just, you know, and all I know is I'm not supposed to be afraid. Don't be afraid. Don't you cry. Boy, don't you cry. I'll give you something to cry about. You know, and I don't know. I've just got all my emotions suppressed. And then when the hell breaks loose and when the fighting starts and when the people are getting blown up and when people are dying and when awful things are happening, you know, I just turned everything off. I just turned everything off. And, you know, I just quit remembering. I just quit recording events. And it took a long time for me to readdress the issues that traumatized me from war. I remember when I did my fourth step, I told my sponsor, I said, I'll do anything except go back to Vietnam. I will not revisit that experience. And I thought he'd say something really, you know, well, when you're ready to make a thorough and fearless moral inventory, then we'll do one. I thought I was going to get out of it. But he was sharper than that. And he said, well, you do what you can. And when it's time, you'll look at Vietnam again. But let's do what you can. Anyway, Vietnam was, well, the day before I was wounded, we went in on a hot LZ. And we were badly outgunned and outmanned. And they were having their way with us. And the helicopters were getting hit with rockets. And they were falling down into the jungle on fire. And there was just a few of us that got in on the ground that day. And there was supposed to be a whole bunch of us. But it didn't happen. And we were in big trouble. And the CO radioed down and told us that he was going to be out. He was going to drop some firefighting equipment to us. And that he was going to drop some plastic explosives to us. Because we'd just gone in with weapons and water. We didn't even take our rucks with us. Because we knew we were going to have contact with the enemy. And so he was going to fly over and drop some firefighting equipment to us. And some plastic explosives. Hoping that we could put some of these burning helicopters out. And blow down some trees and make room to get some help in to us. And I'm watching his helicopters. He comes over and over the landing zone to drop that stuff to us. And here come another rocket. Pop. And just blew them right up. I'm looking right at him in that helicopter. Blows up in front of me. It wobbles and it falls down into the fire with the rest of them. Me and a kid named Henderson went out there. And we helped get the guys that were alive out of that helicopter. And one kid was blown out of the door. He was standing on the slick. Trying to guide the pilot down so that his rotors wouldn't touch the trees. And when that rocket hit it just blew him out the door. And we had to go look for him. And when we found him he was still alive. But he was a mess. He had both his legs were blown off. One of his arms is mangled. His face is destroyed. We used our boot laces to put tourniquets on his thighs. Stop the bleeding. Put pressure all over him to stop the bleeding. And tried to muffle his cries so that he wouldn't make noise. He's gurgling and he's hollering. And we're trying to keep his face from bleeding to death. And not suffocate him. And not let him make enough noise to draw fire. And the medic finally came and took over. And me and Henderson went back into the fight. And I never saw that kid again. I never knew who he was. He was just another one of my wounded buddies over there. But that guy haunted me. You know when I lay down at night I see him. And you don't understand. That was my pat answer for everybody. Anybody who would talk to me about my behavior. Anybody who talked to me about my drinking. Anybody who talked to me about my prescription drug abuse. I'd say, oh my God. I'd tell them, you don't understand. Life has not been fair for me. And you don't have these nightmares and this night terror that I have. You didn't grow up with the dad that I have. Your brother didn't hang himself like mine did. You know, you just don't understand. And I never thought that there was anybody who did. The next day I walked up on an enemy position in that same fight. And I was shot twice. And one bullet went right through my left hip. And one bullet went right through my left ankle. And if you don't know what I'm talking about. If you've ever heard the expression, we're going to blow your ass off. Just took that baby smooth white. And I carry my billfold over here. So it looks like I've got something going on, you know. And boy, there have been some pretty lean times too. So that didn't help a lot. They dusted me off. Sent me to a hospital in Yokota, Japan. I was there seven weeks. They sent me to a hospital in California here. And then they sent me to a hospital in Texas. And then I finally wound up at Reynolds Army Hospital in Fort Sill, Oklahoma. So I could be close to my family. Spent the first nine months in a body cast called a spike. Got my whole body in plaster. You know, from my chest down, I can't move anything but my arms. And that was horrible. They had big windows cut in it that they'd open up so that they could address my wounds. I got a gross staph infection and it would not heal. And they just kept cutting pieces of me off. And when I turned 21, I'd been in the hospital four months. When I turned 22, I was still there. And I just couldn't heal. And the pain was just horrible. And they couldn't give me medication or morphine or anything except in my arms. And my veins had all collapsed from the IVs. And my whole body's in plaster. They can't stick me in where there is no butt. And my arms were so badly scarred, they'd give me an injection of pain medication. I could hear it go in just like they were sticking that needle in balsa wood. And then they'd inject that morphine and it would just run back out around the needle and down my arm. I couldn't take it in and I'd just cry. And I... You know, I felt pretty sorry for me. It was... It was hard. Now, I made the most of it, though. I'm a class clown. And, you know, I'm not one to acknowledge any pain or shortcomings or hardship or difficulty or trauma. And so I was... You know, they would bring the other wounded guys and put them in my room so I could cheer them up. And I would draw cartoons and entertain the nurses. And my high school sweetheart... I married her while I was... I was laying in that hospital with that cast on from my chest down. They'd give me a one-day pass. And then... They were real nice. They put a new cast on me, which was a painful process. But I was willing because they put a saddle on it. I thought that was kind of them. And so my two best friends, my fiancée, whose parents were not happy about this... She was still in high school. They come down to the... They came to the hospital and the chaplain married us there, right there in the room. They put a diaper on me because there was a big bar between the legs on that cast. And they put a diaper on me and put a T-shirt on me. And they took me down and threw me on a mattress in the back of a pickup truck. And me and my two best friends and my bedpan and my urinal, we went to the Holiday Inn for a honeymoon. And the next day they brought me back and she went home to Mom and Daddy and I laid there for another year. You know. You know, even in that cast, even in that pain, even if they would let me out of there. You know, I'd get to lay on a mattress and go home for a weekend. And my buddies would come get me and we would go to the tavern. We'd go to the tavern. I'm in plaster from here down with a diaper on. I'd just get a long gown on there and they'd lift me out of the back of the truck. Take me in and lean me up against the wall. They'd just serve me that bear. I can't get to the bathroom. So they just... They'd just form a circle around me. I mean, there ain't nothing going to keep me from drinking. I like to drink. You know, when you look at the family pictures, when you go back to the family album, that photographic memory I got, all the pictures have alcohol in them. It's almost like a member of the family. You know, we hold them. You think you just won an award or a citation. You know, it's... What is it about my family and drinking? But I never thought I had a problem. What I got is I got a disability. I got pain. It never healed. The reason I was in the hospital so long is they had these big screws in there trying to make it grow together solid. And it wouldn't because of the infection. And so when they finally, after seven years, took those pins out, the infection finally subsided. After seven years, I haven't pussed right out of my butt. And it's awful pain because it never fused solid. It moves about five degrees. It moves just enough to have bone on bone. Bone pain. When I try to move around. And if anybody tells me, Otto, you take too many pills, I'll whip your butt. You know, you might as well tell me that up and that's down. Because it's just not true. You just don't understand how much pain I'm in. You don't know what it's like for me to try to lay down and go to sleep at night. You don't know. You don't understand. And it was a wonderful excuse to stay drunk. And I did a really good job of it. And, you know, I was a dock worker. And that doesn't have anything to do with boats. That was before computers, see. So I could go to Dr. A and to Dr. B and to Dr. C and to Dr. D and to Dr. E. And I could get all the pills I want. You know, and because I promise you, I could just walk in and just drop my pants and they'd go, Oh, shit, what are you? That hurts. How long are you going to be out of town? Six months. Okay. That'll last me a couple of weeks. That was one of the things that really helped. Tear down my wall, my delusion when I wound up in a treatment center against my will was they said, I know people that don't have a problem with medication have old medication. Not me. I'm always out. I'm always looking for new medication. I don't have any old medication. I like to come to your house and look for your old medication. It used to just tickle me to death. You know, when I met Pat, she had some old Demerol in her. Her kitchen cabinet was like two years old. You know, it was a script for 30. There were 28 of them in there. She is weird. But I liked her right away. I know people that don't have a problem with prescription drugs don't count their pills. Just nailed me. Oh, man. I didn't get to treatment easy, though. I mean, like I say, I went to counselors and therapists. And I changed everything I knew. I changed my life. I changed wives. I changed hobbies. I changed hangouts. I changed careers. I changed the way I wore my hair. I changed the kind of music I listened to. I changed everything I knew to change. I tried to wrestle some kind of happiness out of my life. You know, what do I have to do to just be okay? You know, I'm this challenged, handicapped person. You know, and I'm trying to play golf. You know, I've got about a 10 handicap. And I'm bowling. I'm bowling on one of the top teams in Oklahoma City. And I carry over a 200 average. And I bowl off the wrong leg, you know. And I'm... I'm pretty amazing, actually. Actually, you know, you can do a lot of stuff when you're just so damn sedated you don't hurt. You don't feel any pain whatsoever. But there came a time when I was out of friends. And I was unemployed and unemployable. And I was estranged from my daughter. And I used to go out and party and go to the clubs and play. And I didn't go anymore. I just stayed at home. And I would drink at home. And I would drink alone. And, you know, it wasn't fun anymore. It was something that I had to do. And I thought it was, you know, my great excuse was I can't get to sleep. You know, I just have to have a drink to help me get to sleep. I need to get some sleep. I can't get to sleep. When I lay down to go to sleep, I'd have all these horrible images and thoughts and memories and nightmares. And I just need something to help me get to sleep. And I finally wound up, against my will, in a treatment center. A really talented doctor at the VA hospital where I had been many times. I'd been in the psychiatric ward there. I'd been in the day hospital. I'd been a patient there many times trying to deal with the depression, trying to deal with the anger, trying to deal with the frustration. Never knowing what the problem was. And he finally gave me a battery of tests that I took. And, you know, I sat at a computer all day and sometimes maybe never. And yes, no, yes, no, yes, no, true, false, true, false. And at the end, I come back to get the results. He says, Otto, you're angry. You're a genius. You know, I could have told him that without taking the test. And he says, and I think you have a drug and alcohol problem. And, God, just. God, it just threatened me to no end. It was a real threat. I mean, you might as well point a gun at me as to say you're going to take my alcohol, my drugs away from me because this pain is real. You know, and I need to get some sleep. But I really, I think this was just real, I was real fortunate because there was a lot of television on then about Valium being addictive. Valium was a very heavily prescribed drug back in 85. And there was a lot of stuff on TV and on the news about Valium being over prescribed and it's very addictive. And I thought, you know. You know, I might be addicted to Valium because I am always out of Valium. And when I run out of Valium, it ain't over prescribed. So I agreed to go to treatment to get off of Valium and get on something else. That was the plan. That was the plan. And I went in and I got a medical detox at St. Anthony's Hospital in Oklahoma City. And I was glad to get it. But I needed a medical detox. Because I was. I was consuming all kinds of painkillers and sedatives and drinking lots of alcohol. And I felt justified. I never took a pill I didn't need. Let me tell you. I never took a drink I didn't need. If I didn't need it, I was going to need it shortly. Okay? And I'm tired of being a martyr. So why should I wait for it to hurt? You know, I mean, all this stuff made sense to me. And so anyway, I got in there and they got me cleaned up and they got me detoxed. And I had no intentions of quitting drinking. But I received a wonderful gift. And that was that people like yourselves. Came up to that hospital and did what I'm doing tonight. And you talked about your alcoholism and your drug abuse. And you talked about your life experiences. And what I found was that you and I were a lot alike. You were the first people I'd ever met in my whole life that I couldn't look you right square in the eye and say, You don't understand. Because, you see, I knew you did. And the big difference was, and this is why AA works. And this is why we have to stick to our singleness of purpose. Lots of doctors, lots of kind and caring people, lots of talented physicians tried to help me. And no one could. And the reason they couldn't help me is because they always started their sentence with, Otto, you. You drink too much. You take too many pills. Otto, you. And as soon as that came out of their mouth, I'd turn them off just like that. Because, see, you don't understand. And what you guys did is you came up and you said, Otto, I. And I did this and I did that. And this is what happened. And you all were the damnedest show in town, let me tell you. You all stood up there and said things, and I just couldn't believe you all said that. I don't think I'd have told that story. And I've done that a couple of times tonight. But what happened was I identified with you. Even my disability. You know, that was my catch. That was my ace in the hole. You know, nobody had a painful disability like me. Mine. And one day a black guy came up to the hospital and he had tried to kill himself. Through asphyxiation. And he put his head in and he turned the gas on in the stove and he put his head in and he laid there and he passed out. And his life's unmanageable and his best plans don't work. And instead of asphyxiating himself, he just blew up his house. And he was horribly burned and disfigured. He had no fingers on his hands. You know, his skin was pink instead of black. And I could not look at him and say, you don't understand. Because he sat and he told me about his suffering and about his pain and his trauma and his need for medication. And he told my story. You know what? If you don't relate to me, keep coming back. Keep coming back. Somebody will step up here and tell you their story. But for me, when it finally dawned on me, it was like somebody had been telling a joke. And I didn't get it. You know, suddenly, I get it. Hey, damn. I'm an alcoholic. Who does? Fuck it. A stud like me. God. You know, I never set out to be an alcoholic. Wow. But you know what? I think my dad. I think my mom. I think my brothers. Dad. They were not impressed. They were not eager to join the ranks. Let me tell you. So, one good thing about it. Here's some good news for those of you that find yourself in a similar situation. No one else has to recover for me to recover. Nobody else has to do it. You know, I don't have to wait for my wife, my kids, my parents, nobody. I can recover if I so choose. And if I'll join the ranks of Alcoholics Anonymous and do what's suggested. And I was eager to know what that was because, I mean, you know, I'm a good guy. And I'm an overachiever and a perfectionist. And I thought those were attributes when I got here. I didn't know they were killing me. And a couple of my character defects. But, you know, I said, okay, what do we do? And you said, well, you know, you go to 90 Minutes. In 90 days, you get a support group. You know, we're going to hang out together. You know, if you've got one hand in Bob's hand and one hand in Jim's hand, then you don't have a hand to drink with. Yeah, that makes sense. I can understand that. Cool, okay. You know, I get drunk. We stay sober. Yeah, okay, I get it. Okay, so you're going to go to 90 Minutes in 90 days and get you a support group. You're going to hang out with these people. You're going to learn how to do things different. If you used to do it, don't do it. If you haven't done it, try it. Okay, and they say, we're going to give you this book here. And we want you to read it. It's got a program of recovery in it, a program of living, designed for living. Well, I'm a college graduate. I went on and got my degree after I got out of the hospital. But I could not read this book at age 37. Coming out of that treatment center, I could not read this book. I was functionally illiterate. My eyes would start moving, but I'm recording nothing, you know. And they said, we want you to work these 12 steps and get you a sponsor. And I looked at the 12 steps that were on that banner on the wall. And we admitted we're powerless over alcohol. Our lives are becoming miserable. For me, that was such good news. Because I just thought I was a screw-up, you know. I just thought I was a guy that couldn't get it right. I'm just full of self-contempt and loathing. And I didn't like me. And that kind of let me out of the corner, you know. And in a second, it came to me that Paraguay and Saskatchewan were stores to Sandy. My nickname was Crazy Otto, you know. That was my nickname when I was in the racing news. You know, Crazy Otto. I had it painted on the back of my race cars. Crazy Otto. I like being crazy, you know. People don't mess with you when you're crazy. Don't mess with him. He's crazy. He's a Vietnam vet. Leave him alone. Get away. Get away. I was kind of proud of that. Yeah. So, I blew right through two and went to three. Made a decision to turn our window lights over to the curb. God, God damn. It's a God deal. Oh, I was furious. Anthony's Hospital. I should have known better. You go to a Catholic hospital, you're going to get a churchy solution. I mean, give me a break. You know, I should have went to Schick. I should have went to the V. I should have went somewhere where they could help me, you know. I don't believe in God. You know, and there was a guy named Mike who was coming up to the treatment center. He didn't have long-term sobriety. And he's not the sharpest knife in the box. And you don't have to be to carry this message. You know, you just have to have more sobriety than me, you know, when I'm new, to help out. And Mike was coming up there and carrying the message, trying to stay sober one day at a time. And he got a hold of me. He says, wow, what is it, Otto, about you and what's your God problem? And I said, well, man, and I just went off on him. You know, I said, if there's a God, I don't want nothing to do with him. He must be a damn terrorist, you know. Because where in the hell has he been? You know, where was he when my dad is on my mama's chest beating her face blood red? Where is he when my brother's hanging himself in that jail cell and he's twisted on that T-shirt? Where is he when my buddies are getting blown to pieces in Vietnam? Where was he when I lay in that hospital for all those months and suffered? You know, where has he been? Where was he during the Holocaust? You know, there's a lot of good people that suffer. Where is he at? My little brother had colonitis, ulcers of the intestines. Very rare in a young person. It's an elderly person's disease. It's a stress-related disease. My brother had it at 10 because of the chaos in our home. And he'd stayed in a children's convalescent hospital. And we'd go visit him there. And there were thalidomide babies. And there were cancer kids and burn kids and kids that were amputated and mangled. And we'd go in there. And we don't talk about it in my family. We don't know how to talk. We don't know how to address those. We don't know how to address those issues. And I'd go to Sunday school and we'd sing, Jesus loves the little children. And one Sunday we show up for church and the Reverend Bill Alexander, who I just love, this fiery red-headed minister at our church, didn't show up. And he had perished in a plane crash the night before. What good did God do him? You know, I'm confused. I'm sorry. If there's a God, I don't want anything to do with him. And I told him about the day I was shot. I know the day I gave up. And that was September 22, 1968. Because when I was shot, I walked up in an enemy position and a short burst machine gun fire rang out and cut me in two. And I fell to the ground and my first thought was, I've been shot. It takes a while to realize what's happened when that happens. My second thought was, God help me. My third conscious thought was, there is no God. September 22, 1968, alone, lost in the jungle. The enemy got out of their hole. Took my watch off my wrist. They took a knife and cut that fresh rock I was coming back from the LZ with. Took it off of me. They went and got back in their hole. Not from me to you, Bruce. And I could feel that gun pointed at the top of my head. And in that moment, I was not willing. I was not desperate enough to need his help. September 22, 1968, I became self-reliant, self-propelled. But in that treatment center, Mike gave me a gift. He said, Otto, you don't have to believe in the God you gave up on. In Vietnam. He says, in that third step, it says, as we understood him. And he asked me a question. He says, what would God have to be for you to take a chance and try? You don't have to be able to do it. Just try. And turn your will and your life over to his care. That's important because I'm not giving up control to nobody. But I'll turn my will and my life over to his care. What would God have to be for you to be willing to do that? Now, I thought this was a pretty ridiculous proposal. You know, for me to define God. I always thought I was supposed to figure out what God wanted me to do. You know, what do I have to do to earn your grace? What do I have to do to catch a break? You know, I thought God was a lot like my earthly father. You know, I could not please my father. I could get three hits and strike out once and all we talked about was the strike out. You know, there was no... It was just insane. And I really, I believed that God was like my earthly father. And I thought I was being punished, you know. And he says, no, he says, what would God have to do? What would God have to be? Whatever, I'll humor him. I did a little writing and I came up with a real simple God concept. And my God concept in the beginning was, my starting place was, if God is all powerful with all his power, he can do anything. And all he wants is for me to stay sober. And here's the hook. Like it. If I can stay sober and like it, then I'd be willing to try. Not promising that I can. Turn my will and my life over to his care. I keep control. And I fully expected Mike to say, oh, no, no, no, no. You misunderstood. No. No Disneyland gods. Come on. Pick a team. What are you going to be? Hindu, Muslim, Buddhist, Christian. Come on. Pick a team. What are you going to do, buddy? You got to get on the right team. That's not what he said. He said, that's your God. God that's all powerful and with all his power, all he wants is for you to stay sober and like it. You pray to that God to keep you sober one day at a time. And if you don't drink that, that day you say thanks to him. And at that time, I was able to stop praying to the great unknown. And I just started praying to this real simple concept of God. And that was good enough for me to make a start. You know, and it let me out of that corner that I had painted myself into. Now, my concept of my relationship with God today is much different than that simple concept I started with. But that was good enough for me to make a start. You see, because we work the 12 steps not to get sober. We don't take the 12 steps to get sober. It doesn't say. It doesn't say, having gotten sober is the result of these steps. It says, having had a spiritual awakening as the result. Not a result, one of many. It's the desired result. It's what happens when we take the steps. It's a spiritual awakening. And I had that starting point and I worked these 12 steps. And through those 12 steps, I've developed a relationship with a loving God that I didn't know existed. That I didn't know was possible. That doesn't look anything like what I started with. And that I'd never known before. And so that I'm grateful. And I have a relationship today with a God that does for me what I can't do for myself. You know, I went and did those inventories. And I went and made those amends. And I learned lessons that my father couldn't teach me. I found out that the world's not as mean and evil as I thought it was. And that everybody's not out to get me. And that a lot of people were happy to see me cleaning up my wreckage. And a lot of people were happy to see me changing my life. And that you weren't quick to punish like I was. That I'm not the standard unit of measure. That the world's a lot kinder and there's a lot more goodness in the world than I thought there was. You know, I just had looked at everything with a bias in my perspective. And so I set about to do this as best I could. And, you know, in the beginning my motives weren't real good. Because I didn't believe that it would work. It was a little too Pollyanna for me. You know, pray to this Disneyland God and go to meetings and whatever. But I figured I would do it. And when I was in treatment, I made a logbook. You know, some people make moccasins and book covers and stuff. But I made a logbook so that I could document my meetings. So that I could document my calls to myself. Sponsor. So that I could document. And when I go to meetings, we hold hands and pray. I'm praying every day. I get guys to come to my house and we read out of this book every day out loud. And I make a note of who was there to read with me. I'm doing everything that you suggest. And when I get drunk, I'm going to sue AA. I am going to own Alcoholics Anonymous. I am going to be one rich drunk. Because I really, I did not believe it would work. But the good news is, it doesn't matter what motives are. You know, motives don't matter, folks. Motives just dictate whether or not you enjoy it while you're doing it. Doing the right thing for the wrong reason still begets the right result. You know, if I go to school and get a degree because my parents want me to, I still get the degree. You know what? And if I go to meetings and if I ask God that I don't believe in for help. And if I call a sponsor and if I read the literature, what happened was I found the 30, 60, 90, 120 days go by and I haven't had a drink. And I'm starting to enjoy myself because you guys are fun. And, you know, you let me come into your home and you take me to lunch with you. And we go to the movies and we play golf and we're hanging out. And you don't put any conditions on me. You don't put any mandates on me. You know, I didn't have to learn the rules, the secret handshake. I didn't have to memorize the steps. I didn't have to know the answers. All I had to do was show up. And you guys loved me. I hadn't been sober very long and I went to a meeting and Dr. Paulo was sharing just like I'm sharing tonight. And he changed my life in an hour and ten minutes. Because he taught me how screwed up I was about love. You know, and the reason I've been in conflict with other people my whole life is I always thought, that you needed to do something to get me to love you. And you all just kept screwing up. Therefore, I am divorced again and estranged and alienated and isolated. And what he taught me was that, no, he learned that with Max, that his job was to love her. Not to get her to love him. And that he had to do that unconditionally, expecting nothing in return. What a concept. But what it gave me was that it improved my relationship with God. You see, I always. I always thought that God could and would if I were good. That's the way my relationship with my dad was. But what I learned from Paul and from others in our call synonymous is it's not God could and would if I were good. It's God can and will if I'll let him. You see, God loves me because he's God. Not because I'm good. I don't have to do anything to earn his grace. I don't have to earn anything for him to love and want and care for me. Just like the newcomer doesn't have to do anything to get us to love and to care for. They're with them when they walk in the door. And I learned that working with new people. I had about eight months sober and a kid came to me and said, Have you been my sponsor? I thought, you're an idiot. Boy. But I was pretty proud that somebody would ask. I must be standing pretty good in those meetings. So I called my sponsor to tell him, you know, Somebody asked me to be their sponsor today. What'd you tell them? I said, no. I told him, no. I haven't had enough time. He says, what steps is he on? I said, I think he's on one. He says, what steps is he on? I said, well, I'm on eight. He says, well, why don't you go help him with one through seven? So I went back and found that kid. And I promised you, trying to help him was exactly what I needed to do because I would do for him things I wouldn't do for myself. I would get in that book and study. You know what? And I fell in love with Rick. Rick didn't do nothing. But by treating Rick lovingly and by caring for Rick, I fell in love with Rick. And I've come to find out that's true in all my relationships. I can make a decision to love you, and if you'll let me, I'll fall in love with you. You don't have to do anything to deserve it. I get to choose whether or not I want to be a loving person. I can meet a total stranger and tell you I love you, and I mean it because I'll love you if you'll let me. And I learned that right in here in Alcoholics Anonymous. It's changed my whole life. You know, while I'm going about doing this real simple program of living, working these 12 steps as a program of living, what's happened is God has done for me all the things I never dreamed could be done. In the long version of the Serenity of Prayer, it says, God will make right everything if we'll just completely give ourselves to Him. And I believe I've tried to do that. And He's made everything right for me. I live in a world today that I didn't know existed, and all the wrongs have been made right. Things that couldn't be fixed have been fixed. I had about two weeks, three weeks sober. And they asked me to write a letter to my 12-year-old daughter and admit that I was an alcoholic. This was the beginnings of my first step, and this is the last page that I wrote to her that day. So I wrote this when I had about two weeks of sobriety. Holly, I've been given a simple 12-step program for living. It's a simple program of faith and honesty. I'm excited about my future. It won't be easy to change, but it's not a hard program. I plan to work at changing a little bit every day. I now have hope that I can and will find peace and acceptance in the world. I think you will find that soon I'll be a happier, more sharing and loving father. I pray to God. I pray to God for his guidance and your understanding and support. I love you very much, Dad. When I wrote that, it was just hope. It was something you all told me that I could have, and I've had it for a long time. I was about three years sober, and her mother came to me and said, You're doing so good, you take the little bitch before I kill her. And Holly came to live with me. She was not happy about it. She did not want to be there. I'm living in an inner-city house with no furniture. You know, she's living up north with the guest jeans and the Dooney Burke purses and the big canopy on her bed. They had to cut that canopy off her bed to get it in my little house that I was renting. Oh, God. She was not happy to be there. And I told her, I said, Holly, I don't know how this is going to work out, sweetheart. I'm just going to love you no matter what. I'm going to love you the way God loves us all. I'm going to love you the way we love each other in Alcoholics Anonymous. I'm just going to be your loving father. She said about to make my life a living hell. She would say things. To me, I want to reach over and just pull the lips off of her face. Where did she learn to talk like that? Man, I had to double up on my meetings and thank God for Al-Anon. I got sober in Alcoholics Anonymous, folks, but I got happy in Al-Anon. Let me tell you, I attend Al-Anon on a regular basis, and I've been going for over 20 years. And if you've been sober a while and you're not liking it, you might want to check us out. You might want to come on over and see what we're doing because defective relationships, cause of most all our problems, and we'll address that in Alcoholics Anonymous, but we're going to put a magnifying glass on it in Al-Anon. Anyway, come see us. We'll make you welcome. Anyway, Holly had been with me two or three years, and things changed because I made good on that promise with the help and the support I found in Al-Anon and AA and with the loving God that answers my prayers. And our lives got better. You know, she started to trust me, and we were getting along. She's going to high school now, and we're going to live in a little nicer house. Pat and I have married. And our families have become joined, and, you know, things are pretty good. And Holly turned 16. I bought her this little crap car. You know, we don't have a lot of money, but we bought her this little crap car. She's not much of a driver. She doesn't need more than a crap car. She's got this little 85 or 80-something Honda Prelude. It's a little tiny thing. It was one of the first Preludes ever made. I mean, this must have had like 8 or 10 horsepower. You know, it's one of these cars where when you step on the gas, it just makes more noise. Nothing else happens. The tack moves, and nothing else happens. Yeah, I figured she can't get hurt in that, you know, because she's not a very good driver. And we're really doing good. And I got a cool car. I got this, you know, pretty... I'm a car guy, and I got a cool car. I got a little convertible. I just had some new paint put on, a big kicker stereo in it, you know. Got some cool wheels on it, you know. And she comes to me one night, and it was a beautiful night. And she says, Dad, can Kristen and I take the convertible? Okay. Be careful. Be careful. She wasn't gone. 30 minutes. I was going to... Anything but my car. You okay? Kristen, okay? Can you drive the car? Where are you at? Where they're not supposed to... Stay right there at that phone. I'll be right there. Don't move. I'll be right there. All bets are off. All promises are thrown out the window. This little bitch is dead. I can put up with a lot of stuff, but not tearing up my car. I'm on my way out to get... I'm on my way out to get... I'm on my way out to get... I'm on my way out to get... In that little prelude. I'm about to pull a steering wheel off that car, because it will not get there fast enough. And I got that conversation going on in my head where she said, and then I say it, and she says, and then I say it, and... And I'm playing this conversation in my head, and I hear her say, Dad, I was going too fast. And I crashed the car. And it just picked me up short right there. She did the unthinkable. She did the unheard of. She did a first in my family lineage. She copped to it. She owned it. She didn't make up some bullshit story. I told my dad, Dad, a deer ran out in front of me. I swear. Truth was, I was just going too fast, and I wrecked the family car. And he picked me up by my ears. God, he used to pick me up by my ears, and it hurt so bad. And he beat me. And while he's beating me, he says, Don't you know what that car means to this family? Don't you know what that's going to do to insurance? Didn't I tell you to be careful? And that night, I was able to go to Holly and comfort her. See, I don't have to tell her. I don't have to remind her. She knows what it's going to do to insurance. I don't have to say a word. She knows what that car means to me. I don't have to say a word. She knows I told her to be careful. I don't have to say a word. She's dying. She is in pain. She's dying because she's let down the one person in the world she most wants to please. Wouldn't that be a great? Time for dad to come whip her ass. If I want to get generic cards for the rest of my life. But I was able to go to Holly and comfort her. And tell her that I loved her. And I got my priorities straight. And we began to have the intimacy and the closeness that I never knew existed before. I didn't know I could trust people with the truth. I didn't know I could be vulnerable and admit a mistake. I didn't know. I didn't know that I could be married to a beautiful girl for 20 years and still like her. How do you do that? You all taught me how and I'm grateful. I really am. And everything's been made right for me. A few years ago my father died and I buried a loved one. Not a lovable one. He never changed. He was barred from every tavern in Oklahoma City. He had to go out of town to drink. He was such a nasty and vulgar and vile drunk. He was barred from every tavern in Oklahoma City. But when he died I buried a loved one. Not a lovable one. I had known the joy of being his loving son for years. His words couldn't hurt me anymore. I'd be coming home from taking a meeting to the prison and I'd stop at that little tavern on the hill outside of UConn, Oklahoma. And I'd sit on the barstool next to his drunk and scratch his old burr head and tell him I loved him and he'd say vile things to me. And they didn't hurt anymore. And he'd lost all his power over me. And the joy for me was in being his loving son not having a loving father. Everything's been made right. I was about seven years sober. I'm at the car races on a Friday night. Where else? I go to the races every week. And for some reason the weather's good, the track's fast, the car count's good. I get up and go home right in the middle of the races. Pat says, what are you doing here when I walk in the door? I said, I don't know. And I didn't. This is totally bizarre old behavior. I mean, I had this real sadness as I left the grandstand at the fairgrounds in Oklahoma City. I'm leaving in the middle of a perfectly good racing program. I don't know. She says, I said, I think I just didn't watch TV. I said, whatever. It was nine o'clock on Friday night. Sat down, turned on the TV. 2020 was coming on. And they usually do three little short vignettes. And the very first little vignette that was coming on was called The Gift of Life. And the first image that it showed was of a helicopter flying over the jungles of Vietnam. And there was a guy, they were telling a story about an emergency room surgeon, a trauma physician. And this guy was writing a book and interviewing him. And his name was Kenneth Swan. He's in Pittsburgh. And he says, what was your worst trauma case? Since you ever worked? What was the worst trauma you've ever had to handle? And Dr. Swan began to recount when he was a young surgeon at the 71st Medivac in Pleiku, Vietnam in 1968. And they brought in a young soldier who was so gravely wounded. The consensus was to medicate him, set him aside, declare him expectant and let him die. You see, his legs are blown off and his arms mangled. He's got shrapnel the size of your thumb in the middle of his brain. And both of his, his eyes are gone. His face is destroyed. You know, he's brain damaged. He's blind. He's eyeless. He's legless. He's arms mangled. Let him die. And Dr. Swan went against the consensus and operated on this kid and saved his life. And so the guy writing the book says, tough call. How'd it turn out? Did you save this kid for some life of purpose and meaning? Or did you save him for a life of trauma and horror? He's pretty screwed up. Dr. Swan did not know. He'd never, he just put it out of his mind just like the rest of us. He just processed that stuff and you just go on. You just fight and you die and you go on. So they set about to find him. It took two years. His name's Kenneth McGarrity and he lives in Columbus, Georgia. And they began to tell his story. And his story's my story. He was in a helicopter trying to drop firefighting equipment to the infantryman pinned down in a burning jungle on September 21st, 1968 and a rocket came out of the trees and took his chair. Took that bird down. And I sat on the sofa and I just started to shake. Pat came over and sat down and grabbed hold of me and said, what's the matter? And I could hardly talk and tell her I think this is my kid. This is my story. This is my nightmare. And it was. Long story short, this is that kid that Henderson and I went and helped that day. And he's pretty screwed up. But he's married since Vietnam. Now, he met a gal talking on the CB radio. No eyes, no legs, left arm so badly mangled he goes behind him when he lets it hang. He's got nine fingers he can feel with two. And he meets this gal and they get married. He has two kids and he lives a very, very difficult life. But he has a life with a wife and a family and a purpose. But he suffers terribly from post-traumatic stress and he can't get home. Ken didn't know what happened to him that day. He struggles with what happened that day. I was looking right at him. And so I thought maybe I could help Ken. So I reached out. Kenny and I began to talk on the phone. Kenny abuses drugs. He abuses alcohol. He self-mutilates. He suffers horribly from post-traumatic stress. I just started trying to help Kenny get home. He's one of these vets that just can't get home. And so I'm just using our program and our steps to try to help Kenny get home. And what happened was I ended up with Kenny taking me places I wasn't willing to go. And that fourth step that I wouldn't do and my sponsor said in God's time, Kenny showed up to take me to do that inventory of all that all that hell over there. And Kenny's getting better. I'm getting worse. I got really angry. You know, I'm trying to be nice to this guy. I want to help this guy. I care very much for this guy. And he's an amazing charismatic guy, but he's killing me, dragging me back into these jungles. And I got angry, you know, and I would talk to my sponsor about it. And so I'm trying to deal with it. And I don't know about you guys, but when I got something that's just consuming me and I don't know what, I'll put a label on it and stick it somewhere and just call it something, you know, until I can figure it out. And with this one, the label I put on it was, you know, this bastard has never told me thank you. It was no small feat what I did that day. I'm decorated for heroism by the commander of that helicopter. It was no small feat running out into that burning jungle and getting this guy and dressing his wounds until he could be saved, you know, living with the nightmare images I've had of him all these years. I don't think a thank you is too damn much to ask. And I just got it suppressed. You know, and I'm talking to Kenny on the phone and every time we hang out, I haven't got my thank you yet. So anyway, he asked me to send him some memorabilia and stuff. And with it, I put a cover, a letter. Now, I know he can't read it, but three, so his wife will read it to him. And I put in this cover letter and I said, Kenny, I got a resentment. All the time we've been talking, you have never told me thank you for saving your life. Boy, I was glad to get it out. Felt good. Made the mistake of showing it to Pat. She's looking at it and she goes, what is this right here about you never said thank you? What is that? That doesn't belong in there. And I go, oh, yes, it does. It's the truth and I live in the truth. She says, isn't there something that I can do? Isn't there some kind of an axiom thing or some spiritual deal, you know, about where if you've got a bug up your ass, it's your bug or something like that, you know? If something's bothering you, it's from within you, you know? And it's like, God, I just hate it when she's right, you know? So I had to go back and edit it out. I got to cut that out of that letter. I got to get it out of there. Doesn't belong in there and I don't want to rewrite the whole damn letter. I'm sitting in my word processor. I'm just going to process and just trying to make it make sense so I don't have to rewrite it. And what came out was God's gift for me. What came out was the healing that I'd been looking for for all those years because what came out without me even knowing I was going to write it was, Kenny, I've never said thank you. And that hit me like a tidal wave. See, selfish, self-centered, that's the root of my problem. I suffer from a bias in my perspective that's rooted in self. I see things such that they enhance me. I see things such that I get what I want, that I get to be who I want to be. I see things with a bias and a pressure and a prejudice that causes me to be out of harmony with reality. Because reality is I'm pinned down in a burning jungle. Kenny's safe in a helicopter. And on September 21st, 1968, Kenny flew into harm's way trying to save me. When that rocket hit that helicopter, he gave his sight and he gave his legs and he entered into that darkness and that disability for me. And no one had ever said, Kenny, thank you. Thank you for your sacrifice. And that just made me whole. You know, I won't pretend that I'm not still affected by my combat and war experiences. But I've never been more whole in my relationship with the men that I fought with and with my fellows and with my God. God is in His heaven. And all is right on earth. If I'm struggling, it's simply because I'm in the self. And I'm unwilling to place myself in the proper chain of command and maybe see things as God would have them be and not as I would have them be. The truth will set you free. First, it's going to piss you off. And it just keeps getting better. You know, they told me if I could ever go 10 years without infection, I'd be a candidate for a prosthetic hip. I couldn't go two. I haven't worked since 1983 because infection is just trying to kill me. Always. And I'm in and out of hospitals my whole adult life with infection. And 10 years sober, I'm 10 years without infection. Go figure. You know, I always thought I took the pills and drank the liquor because I had the pain. It was a great excuse to drink and use the way I did because I have pain. And I know there's many in this room that have chronic pain that you're trying to deal with. But for me, the pain never went away until the pills did. When I quit drinking, when I quit drugging, when I quit sedating myself, when I had to become responsible for the pain and for the consequence of any physical behavior I indulged in, I stopped abusing myself. When I stopped abusing myself, when I stopped trying to act like this challenged, handicapped person and just live like a person who has limitations, I was allowed to heal. And at 10 years sober, I found a very courageous doctor who was willing to start a long procedure of surgeries. And today I have a hip. You see, because for 28 years, I couldn't sit in a chair. For 28 years, I hadn't touched my left foot. I can't sit on a toilet. I can't sit in the back seat of a car. I'm stiff. I'm straight up and down. I have no hip joint. I have no ankle joint. I can bend my knee a little, but I can't touch my foot. And I live with chronic daily pain. And 10 years sober, Dr. Roger Emerson started this series of procedures and today I got a hip. And today I can sit in a chair just like you. I can ride a bicycle. I've driven a Winston Cup stock car with a standard transmission. I can sit on the toilet and put my elbows on my knees. And I live pain free. There is no problem too large. There is no problem too small. There is no difficulty too great that a loving God can't overcome it. This is the most wonderful gift I've ever received. This is the program of Alcoholics Anonymous. This fellowship, these steps. A loving God that's allowed me to have a spouse like Pat. I got that hip, but it didn't come easy. My worst nightmare came true. When they finally put that hip in on about the 6th or 7th surgery, it got infected. And they had to take it out. And I spent my 11th year of sobriety with nothing. Nothing. Big unhooked and dangling off me by the flesh. Just miserable. And my people brought meetings to my house. And I laid in the bed in that living room. And Pat loved me when I wasn't lovable. I finally healed. And I didn't want to do that surgery again. Pat convinced me to do that surgery because she said that no matter how it turned out, she'd do it with me. And all the gifts I get come from meaningful, effective relationships. And I hope that I've been able to share a little of that with you tonight. Thanks for letting me. Thank you.