Minneapolis, 1965. A six-year-old boy slips into a living room chair to steal a sip of bourbon with a cherry in it. For Mike C., the "kick" was an immediate escape from being the neighborhood pest who spent his childhood getting shoveled into snowbanks. He spent decades as a professional drinker and "kegger caterer," eventually descending into a haze of cocaine, stolen credit cards, and a garage full of pizza boxes. He describes his spiritual state as a wooden door with cracks in it; he could see the light of a Higher Power on the other side, but he was a "low-life piece of crap" who spent years pushing against the door until he finally learned to pull.
After years of "AA jail"—picking up white chips and attending meetings without working the steps—Mike found a loophole through the Big Book. He moved past the "white light" euphoria of early sobriety to confront the mental obsession and physical allergy of alcoholism. Today, he focuses on the "control delete" of the steps to stay co...
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