Meeting 5: St Charles Church, 5310 NE 42nd St., Portland
Wednesday, 9th June
Big Book Review: Fred's Story pp 39 - 43
It was good to attend a big book meeting. Fred was a successful, wealthy businessman, with a fine family and a beautiful home. Everything in his life was almost perfect. And yet as soon as he took one drink it triggered an uncontrollable bender. He tried to apply the willpower he applied to every other aspect of his life to his drinking problem, but inexplicably, despite a full knowledge of the inevitable consequences, as soon as he took the first drink he lost all control. He tells the classic story of a weeklong bender when he drunkenly chartered an aeroplane, and woke up in an entirely different state.
Though few of us have the wherewithal to charter a plane, we've all woken up in weird places, with absolutely no recollection of how we got there. I think many of us think that alcoholics are the homeless guys you see haunting the parks and park benches of the world. In fact, the disease can strike anyone, professional, blue collar, lay or secular.
Fred's story reminds me that it would be fatal to take even one sip. Alcohol triggeres my inner insanity. As I stroll around these American cities, my alcohol mind takes in every pub and bar I walk past. By a cruel irony, when I came here in 1984 American beer was notoriously awful. There's been a revolution, and every bar now boasts a range of fine beers brewed in small breweries run by beer lovers.
Thanks to meetings like tonight's, I remember just how disastrous it would be were I to sample any. I contentedly stick to Cranberry juice.
Friday, 18 June 2010
M4 Snohomish Tribal Lodge
Meeting 4: Snohomish Tribal Lodge, Marysville WA
Saturday, June 5th
Speaker's Meeting
Getting to the meeting involved a drive over the beautiful Deception Pass in the north of Whidbey Island. It was a double first for me; my first visit to a native American reservation, and my first big speakers' meeting involving one of the key AA circuit speakers. Bill was an ex-Hells Angel from California. Like all the best AA speakers he had that winning combination of sardonic humour and the ability to inspire and educate.
Bill was a firm believer that AA was by far the most important social movement of the 20th Century. By his estimation more than 300 million people have had their lives improved by the AA 12-step programme and the hundreds of other 12-Step programmes that were inspired by it.
The one practical thing I took from the meeting was when he said that steps 1 through 9 are only about 15% of the programme. What he said makes a lot of sense. In fact, doing the first nine steps is just putting Humpty Dumpty back together again. It restores us to something like sanity and is a starting point and not a culmination. After the first nine steps just going to meetings is not enough. We have to apply the principles of the programme to our daily lives.
The way forward is of course to make steps 10, 11 and 12 a living part of your every day routine.
Time for me to think about that daily meditation and prayer I so seldom do.
Saturday, June 5th
Speaker's Meeting
Getting to the meeting involved a drive over the beautiful Deception Pass in the north of Whidbey Island. It was a double first for me; my first visit to a native American reservation, and my first big speakers' meeting involving one of the key AA circuit speakers. Bill was an ex-Hells Angel from California. Like all the best AA speakers he had that winning combination of sardonic humour and the ability to inspire and educate.
Bill was a firm believer that AA was by far the most important social movement of the 20th Century. By his estimation more than 300 million people have had their lives improved by the AA 12-step programme and the hundreds of other 12-Step programmes that were inspired by it.
The one practical thing I took from the meeting was when he said that steps 1 through 9 are only about 15% of the programme. What he said makes a lot of sense. In fact, doing the first nine steps is just putting Humpty Dumpty back together again. It restores us to something like sanity and is a starting point and not a culmination. After the first nine steps just going to meetings is not enough. We have to apply the principles of the programme to our daily lives.
The way forward is of course to make steps 10, 11 and 12 a living part of your every day routine.
Time for me to think about that daily meditation and prayer I so seldom do.
Thursday, 10 June 2010
M3 Whidbey Island Blue Box group
Meeting 3: Friday 4th June 7:00 p.m.
Whidbey Island Blue Box Group
Speaker's Meeting
One of the reasons I wanted to start off my trip in Washington State was the chance it gave me to visit T and K. T is like my AA sister. Born within a few months of each other, we listened to the same music, took the same drugs and followed the same alcoholic path to AA. Her husband K was one of those members who always had the knack of saying the things I needed to hear when I first came into the rooms.
They were both there at my first meeting in the AA house on Misawa air base in the north of Japan. Misawa AA was a real force for good in the north of Japan. I always used to call it the 'mother ship'. A lot of the Japanese AA groups in Tohoku, the 6 northernmost prefecturs of the main island Honshu, were started by Japanese alcoholics who first got sober at Misawa.
A couple of sympathetic doctors working in mental hospitals would send alcoholics up to the meetings on the base. Although the Japanese hardly had any English, and the Americans couldn't speak Japanese they managed to communicate. It's living proof that recovering alcoholics share the same experiences and mindset, and even a language barrier can be overcome by the AA message.
After about three months of sobriety I started going to the Japanese AA meetings in my adopted home town of Morioka. Amazingly, the main meeting places were within walking distance of my apartment. This has never ceased to amaze me. Two drunks meet in Akron, Ohio in 1935 and 63 years later, when a crazed and very sick alcoholic Englishman needed the programme, there it was on my door step.
K has now retired from the navy, and he and T are living on beautiful Whidbey Island, south of the San Juan Islands in Puget Sound. Their home group is the Blue Box group.
Friday's meeting is a speaker's meeting. Like most of us, B the speaker was really nervous as he shared his story. Once he got going, it was abundantly clear that he was speaking from the heart, and he did a great job.
Though from a very different background to mine, he has about the same ength of sobriety as I do. He touched on things that I really needed to hear concerning the importance of sticking with the programme, not just to stay off the booze, but to keep chipping away at the character defects that continue to handicap us as we try to live sober lives.
Like me, B has issues with anger and temper tantrums. As ever in AA, just knowing that some one else shares similar problems to yours gives you the courage to struggle on.
The Blue Box group, with about 20 to 30 members, is a really warm and qwelcoming bunch of people. As well as its natural beauty, there's a precious sense of community on Whidbey Island, and its AA groups reflect that.
So thanks to T, K and B and all the members for a great meeting.
Whidbey Island Blue Box Group
Speaker's Meeting
One of the reasons I wanted to start off my trip in Washington State was the chance it gave me to visit T and K. T is like my AA sister. Born within a few months of each other, we listened to the same music, took the same drugs and followed the same alcoholic path to AA. Her husband K was one of those members who always had the knack of saying the things I needed to hear when I first came into the rooms.
They were both there at my first meeting in the AA house on Misawa air base in the north of Japan. Misawa AA was a real force for good in the north of Japan. I always used to call it the 'mother ship'. A lot of the Japanese AA groups in Tohoku, the 6 northernmost prefecturs of the main island Honshu, were started by Japanese alcoholics who first got sober at Misawa.
A couple of sympathetic doctors working in mental hospitals would send alcoholics up to the meetings on the base. Although the Japanese hardly had any English, and the Americans couldn't speak Japanese they managed to communicate. It's living proof that recovering alcoholics share the same experiences and mindset, and even a language barrier can be overcome by the AA message.
After about three months of sobriety I started going to the Japanese AA meetings in my adopted home town of Morioka. Amazingly, the main meeting places were within walking distance of my apartment. This has never ceased to amaze me. Two drunks meet in Akron, Ohio in 1935 and 63 years later, when a crazed and very sick alcoholic Englishman needed the programme, there it was on my door step.
K has now retired from the navy, and he and T are living on beautiful Whidbey Island, south of the San Juan Islands in Puget Sound. Their home group is the Blue Box group.
Friday's meeting is a speaker's meeting. Like most of us, B the speaker was really nervous as he shared his story. Once he got going, it was abundantly clear that he was speaking from the heart, and he did a great job.
Though from a very different background to mine, he has about the same ength of sobriety as I do. He touched on things that I really needed to hear concerning the importance of sticking with the programme, not just to stay off the booze, but to keep chipping away at the character defects that continue to handicap us as we try to live sober lives.
Like me, B has issues with anger and temper tantrums. As ever in AA, just knowing that some one else shares similar problems to yours gives you the courage to struggle on.
The Blue Box group, with about 20 to 30 members, is a really warm and qwelcoming bunch of people. As well as its natural beauty, there's a precious sense of community on Whidbey Island, and its AA groups reflect that.
So thanks to T, K and B and all the members for a great meeting.
Wednesday, 9 June 2010
M2 Pike Place Senior Centre, 85 Pike Place PIG, Seattle WA
Meeting 2: Pike Place Senior Centre, Pike Place Market in Seattle
Wednesdays 7:00 p.m
Theme: Resentments
After a long, long journey I needed a meeting. My fear of flying has become much more manageable since I quit drinking, but nonetheless, I still don't find it a very pleasant experience.
The journey was punctuated by a very pleasant morning strolling round the old Royal Palace in Seoul. Then a drowsy 9-hour flight across the Pacific. I must fit the profile of a drug smuggler, as 9 times out of 10 I get stopped at customs. Even though I didn't have much time before my onward flight to Seattle from San Francisco, I kept cheerful as the customs guy pulled me over and asked me to open my bag. We both laughed as he found my stash of nicotine chewing gum, nicotine patches, and the two cartons of red Marlboro. Spot the addict!
Because of the delay, the chances of my bag and me arriving on the same plane were slim, and so it turned out. A quick mental recitation of the serenity prayer did the trick, and again I stayed cheerful as the nice lady at the baggage delay counter arranged to have it sent on to my hotel as soon as the bag arrived.
Everyone says public transport in the US is terrible, but the airport shuttle and the Westlake monorail conveyed me effortlessly to my hotel two blocks from the Space Needle. Amazingly, I also kept my cool when the girl at reception told me that the hotel was 100% no smoking. I restrained myself from giving everyone a lecture on the infringement of the civil rights of smokers, and joined the other nicotine addicts out in the car park.
One of the issues I'm trying to adress these days is my fatal tendency to lose my temper and mount up on my high horse. I was tested three times on the journey and did good each time. However, I suspect extreme knackeredness and spacy sleeplessness played a major part in my surprising serenity.
Pike Place Market was a pleasant stroll from the hotel. The first thing that hit me was how bloody cold it was. I was dressed for Hanoi summer. Seattle was still in early spring and the low 60s F. A quick visit to a discount clothes store was the first priority, and I've needed my 17$ sweat shirt throughout my time in the north west.
Walking down to the meeting took me past a lot of bars. In the old days a bar would be the first place I'd head to. Having that first meeting to go to in a strange city is a good insurance policy. I also used to pride myself on my ability to score some dope within 24 hours of hitting a new city. Glad not to be drunk or stoned as I took my first walk of the trip.
I later heard that the streets around Pike Place are Whisky Row for the locals. I got panhandled by a shaky guy and a strung out woman as I approached the meeting house. I bottled out of suggesting to them they come with me to the meeting, but I think they both needed it.
The meeting was a microcosm of US society; there were a couple of Native Americans, African Americans, Hispanic Americans, and some fairly rough looking white (Euro??) Americans too. Like all meetings there was a lot of good sharing and a lot of courage. Quite a few of the members had been homeless. That can't be easy in the harsh wet climate of the Pacific North West. One guy shared about how hard it was to keep down a job on top of keeping up with his community college courses. Lives were being slowly rebuilt.
The topic was resentments, but the message I took away was 'no matter how far down the scale we have gone', AA helps us to rebuild our shattered lives and bodies. I was the last to share, and after some quite heavy stuff that preceded, everyone could have a good laugh at my British accent and my airline adventures drunk and sober.
Good luck to everyone at the Pike Place meeting. And thanks for being there for this very tired but very excited and happpy traveller. Getting the trip off to the right start was important for me, and the Pike Place members helped me do that.
Wednesdays 7:00 p.m
Theme: Resentments
After a long, long journey I needed a meeting. My fear of flying has become much more manageable since I quit drinking, but nonetheless, I still don't find it a very pleasant experience.
The journey was punctuated by a very pleasant morning strolling round the old Royal Palace in Seoul. Then a drowsy 9-hour flight across the Pacific. I must fit the profile of a drug smuggler, as 9 times out of 10 I get stopped at customs. Even though I didn't have much time before my onward flight to Seattle from San Francisco, I kept cheerful as the customs guy pulled me over and asked me to open my bag. We both laughed as he found my stash of nicotine chewing gum, nicotine patches, and the two cartons of red Marlboro. Spot the addict!
Because of the delay, the chances of my bag and me arriving on the same plane were slim, and so it turned out. A quick mental recitation of the serenity prayer did the trick, and again I stayed cheerful as the nice lady at the baggage delay counter arranged to have it sent on to my hotel as soon as the bag arrived.
Everyone says public transport in the US is terrible, but the airport shuttle and the Westlake monorail conveyed me effortlessly to my hotel two blocks from the Space Needle. Amazingly, I also kept my cool when the girl at reception told me that the hotel was 100% no smoking. I restrained myself from giving everyone a lecture on the infringement of the civil rights of smokers, and joined the other nicotine addicts out in the car park.
One of the issues I'm trying to adress these days is my fatal tendency to lose my temper and mount up on my high horse. I was tested three times on the journey and did good each time. However, I suspect extreme knackeredness and spacy sleeplessness played a major part in my surprising serenity.
Pike Place Market was a pleasant stroll from the hotel. The first thing that hit me was how bloody cold it was. I was dressed for Hanoi summer. Seattle was still in early spring and the low 60s F. A quick visit to a discount clothes store was the first priority, and I've needed my 17$ sweat shirt throughout my time in the north west.
Walking down to the meeting took me past a lot of bars. In the old days a bar would be the first place I'd head to. Having that first meeting to go to in a strange city is a good insurance policy. I also used to pride myself on my ability to score some dope within 24 hours of hitting a new city. Glad not to be drunk or stoned as I took my first walk of the trip.
I later heard that the streets around Pike Place are Whisky Row for the locals. I got panhandled by a shaky guy and a strung out woman as I approached the meeting house. I bottled out of suggesting to them they come with me to the meeting, but I think they both needed it.
The meeting was a microcosm of US society; there were a couple of Native Americans, African Americans, Hispanic Americans, and some fairly rough looking white (Euro??) Americans too. Like all meetings there was a lot of good sharing and a lot of courage. Quite a few of the members had been homeless. That can't be easy in the harsh wet climate of the Pacific North West. One guy shared about how hard it was to keep down a job on top of keeping up with his community college courses. Lives were being slowly rebuilt.
The topic was resentments, but the message I took away was 'no matter how far down the scale we have gone', AA helps us to rebuild our shattered lives and bodies. I was the last to share, and after some quite heavy stuff that preceded, everyone could have a good laugh at my British accent and my airline adventures drunk and sober.
Good luck to everyone at the Pike Place meeting. And thanks for being there for this very tired but very excited and happpy traveller. Getting the trip off to the right start was important for me, and the Pike Place members helped me do that.
M1 Hanoi Home Group, Don N's
Meeting 1: Tuesday June 1st
Don N's house, Hanoi
We Hanoian AA members are lucky to have a small but dedicated group here in Hanoi. We meet on six days a week, in the evenings and daytime. Tuesday meetings are in a house on the way to the airport, so it was great for me to catch the meeting before heading off for my 10:50 p.m. flight. Early on in my sobriety I met an Irish guy who had slipped during a flight. It was a lesson I've never forgot. It's easy to say yes to the cute flight attendants offering you complimentary beer, wine and cocktails. Hitting the meeting was good and necessary preparation for the long journe ahead.
Tonight was a special occasion. For the week prior to my departure I'd been spending time with a former colleague who was having a hard time. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't stay off the vodka. He has a lot on his plate right now, taking care of his family and trying to find work. He'd tried and failed to make a new life for himself in Thailand, and was now back in Hanoi and hitting bottom.
I knew only too well the inexplicable and baffling obsession that made it seem a good idea to sneak out into the night at 2 in the morning in order to hit the bottle and crawl back into that comforting and deadly cocoon of oblivion in which all problems momentarily disappear, only to reappear even worse the morning after.
It had been a long, hard week for him, but at last tonight he was able to receive that precious first 24-hour chip. It was a pity I had to leave, but I know that the group in Hanoi are there for him. Throughout my trip, he'll be in my thoughts and prayers. If he can make it through, a wonderful and fulfilling life awaits.
It's amazing how quickly the AA programme takes effect. Those first few wobbly days of the shakes and the sweats soon pass, and then suddenly out of the gloom and misery comes a new sense of hope like the dawning of a bright new beautiful morning.
I'm really grateful to J. His getting back in touch was just the reminder I needed of how sick I was 12 years ago, before I came into the programme. Though the 3-month trip that lies ahead is an exciting prospect, it'll be my longest separation from my beloved wife Keiko. I don't do well on my own. I shall need the programme and meetings to keep me straight and sane.
My last air flight in my drinking days was a nightmare. I was heading back to the U.K. to be with my dad as he succumbed to the prostate cancer that was killing him. Shamefully, for this alcoholic it provided the perfect excuse to go on a 24-hour bender of self-pity and alcohol abuse. I was already drunk when I checked in. When the attendant told me it was a no-smoking flight I got abusive. I was lucky they let me on the plane.
Once in the air, I became drunker and more abusive. Luckily, they didn't land and kick me off in Siberia. I drank all the way from Heathrow airport to my home town. I arrived in time for a session in the pubs in clubs. Somehow or other I made it to my parents' house. I woke up the next morning with a bad headache, churning guts and with a bottle of vodka and two uneaten kebabs next to me.
In the nightmare days that followed, as my dad passed away and through the funeral, I was useless to everyone. All the arrangements fell on my poor sister's shoulders. I never once spared a thought for her, or how she felt as the dad she adored passed away. I was blinded by selfishness.
It's always good for us alcoholics to be given a reminder of just how sick we were before AA threw us a lifeline. I truly am grateful for the reminder that that last week in Hanoi gave me of just how cunnung, baffling and powerful alcohol is.
So thanks to all the Hanoi members. I literally could not have survived my time in Hanoi without them.
If anyone is planning a visit to Hanoi, do check out our website.
www.aahanoi.com/
We love having visitors!
Don N's house, Hanoi
We Hanoian AA members are lucky to have a small but dedicated group here in Hanoi. We meet on six days a week, in the evenings and daytime. Tuesday meetings are in a house on the way to the airport, so it was great for me to catch the meeting before heading off for my 10:50 p.m. flight. Early on in my sobriety I met an Irish guy who had slipped during a flight. It was a lesson I've never forgot. It's easy to say yes to the cute flight attendants offering you complimentary beer, wine and cocktails. Hitting the meeting was good and necessary preparation for the long journe ahead.
Tonight was a special occasion. For the week prior to my departure I'd been spending time with a former colleague who was having a hard time. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't stay off the vodka. He has a lot on his plate right now, taking care of his family and trying to find work. He'd tried and failed to make a new life for himself in Thailand, and was now back in Hanoi and hitting bottom.
I knew only too well the inexplicable and baffling obsession that made it seem a good idea to sneak out into the night at 2 in the morning in order to hit the bottle and crawl back into that comforting and deadly cocoon of oblivion in which all problems momentarily disappear, only to reappear even worse the morning after.
It had been a long, hard week for him, but at last tonight he was able to receive that precious first 24-hour chip. It was a pity I had to leave, but I know that the group in Hanoi are there for him. Throughout my trip, he'll be in my thoughts and prayers. If he can make it through, a wonderful and fulfilling life awaits.
It's amazing how quickly the AA programme takes effect. Those first few wobbly days of the shakes and the sweats soon pass, and then suddenly out of the gloom and misery comes a new sense of hope like the dawning of a bright new beautiful morning.
I'm really grateful to J. His getting back in touch was just the reminder I needed of how sick I was 12 years ago, before I came into the programme. Though the 3-month trip that lies ahead is an exciting prospect, it'll be my longest separation from my beloved wife Keiko. I don't do well on my own. I shall need the programme and meetings to keep me straight and sane.
My last air flight in my drinking days was a nightmare. I was heading back to the U.K. to be with my dad as he succumbed to the prostate cancer that was killing him. Shamefully, for this alcoholic it provided the perfect excuse to go on a 24-hour bender of self-pity and alcohol abuse. I was already drunk when I checked in. When the attendant told me it was a no-smoking flight I got abusive. I was lucky they let me on the plane.
Once in the air, I became drunker and more abusive. Luckily, they didn't land and kick me off in Siberia. I drank all the way from Heathrow airport to my home town. I arrived in time for a session in the pubs in clubs. Somehow or other I made it to my parents' house. I woke up the next morning with a bad headache, churning guts and with a bottle of vodka and two uneaten kebabs next to me.
In the nightmare days that followed, as my dad passed away and through the funeral, I was useless to everyone. All the arrangements fell on my poor sister's shoulders. I never once spared a thought for her, or how she felt as the dad she adored passed away. I was blinded by selfishness.
It's always good for us alcoholics to be given a reminder of just how sick we were before AA threw us a lifeline. I truly am grateful for the reminder that that last week in Hanoi gave me of just how cunnung, baffling and powerful alcohol is.
So thanks to all the Hanoi members. I literally could not have survived my time in Hanoi without them.
If anyone is planning a visit to Hanoi, do check out our website.
www.aahanoi.com/
We love having visitors!
USA AA Trip 2010
Hi, I'm Kevin, and I'm an alcoholic. I got sober in Japan in September, 1998. It was one of the millions of miracles we in AA have experienced.
The last three years of my drinking were a nightmare. I had moved to Japan with the express purpose of setting up my own little English language school. I knew as clear as day that if I drank there would be trouble. I swore to my wife and to myself that I would not drink in Japan. I arrived at Tokyo Narita airport after a long 12-hour flight from London. We got the Narita Express train to Tokyo station. We had a three hour journey up to my wife's hometown. My wife went to the toilet, and in the time she was gone I went to the platform kiosk and bought 3 100ml tubs of strong Japanese rice vodka. I downed one there and then, and kept two to drink on the toilet on the train. There was absolutely no resistance. My solemn pledge meant nothing. I fancied a drink and I got a drink, simple as that.
By the time we arrived in Morioka, I was half cut. My disappointed and bewildered wife wondered how on earth I had managed to get drunk even though I'd hardly been out of her sight for a few minutes at a time. But for drunks of my kind, such deception and subterfuge were second nature.
So began three terrible years. On the one hand I worked hard to set up our school. Our timing was good, and in a short space of time we had a viable number of students. I got extra work teaching in our local university. We moved into a nice apartment. On the face of it, it was a successful move. Things should have ticked along nicely. But at every step of the way, my alcoholism and the character defects that were inextricably linked with it undermined all we were trying to do.
I was trapped in a vicious cycle of self-destruction punctuated by bouts of shame, guilt and remorse. My disease was getting progressively worse. Always loud, abusive and aggressive when I drank too much, I was becoming more and more violent and insane. I tried the usual futile methods to control my drinking; beer only, vodka only; only at parties; never at parties etc etc. I tried to fool my wife by becoming a secret drinker, but the only person I was fooling was myself. I took to drinking in the mornings before work. Then a top up at lunchtime. Then those long white knuckle evenings waiting for my wife to go to bed so I could sneak out of the apartment to buy booze from a 24-hour convenience store and drink it alone in my office. I smashed up my office in the school we had worked so hard to set up. I smashed up our beautiful apartment. It was a path of incomprehensible and pitiful self-destruction.
Finally, I hit bottom. On my last night of drinking I violently abused my wife when she refused to give me the equivalent of 5 dollars to buy more booze. I came to the next morning. Devastated by the shame of what I had done, the only solution I had to the pain of what I was experiencing was the usual one of numbing it all with more booze. I headed to work via the liquor store. I managed to get through my first class, but by lunchtime and with more vodka inside me, I had to close up my school. I could hear the kids turning up for their 4:00 class knocking at the shutters. I just hid under my desk until they went away.
This could not go on. I was utterly beaten and utterly exhausted. In my drunken state I remembered the little ad I saw every day in The Japan Times. 'Do you have a problem with alcohol?', it asked, and gave a number to call. I called the number, and was disappointed to find that it was an answering machine. I left my details, but kept calling back. No answer. I staggered home and crashed out. The next morning my wife woke me. I had a call from Tokyo. A guy told me of two fellow British people who lived a train ride away from my home town. He said that they'd be in touch, and that in the meantime I should just try to stay off the booze. A little while later came another call. I arranged to meet the two local members of AA in a coffee bar the next Saturday, two days ahead.
I managed to white knuckle it until then, and then there they were, a tall and talkative Scottish guy and a quiet and serious English guy. I later found out that they only had a year and six months of sobriety respectively, and were as nervous as kittens about doing their first twelfth step. For me, the sheer relief at meeting two other people who understood what I was going through was immense. I felt all the burden of misery, guilt, despair and shame lifting, only to be replaced by a faint but real sense of hope. As they shared their stories, my own insane drinking came into some sort of perspective. They offered to take me up the folowing week to an American air base a couple of hours by train north of my city where there was an AA group.
I struggled through the next week. Calls to the two AA guys I had met helped, as did the long talks I had with my wife. For the first time in years I was able to talk to her honestly, without having my dirty secret to hide. Her incredible understanding and lack of bitterness was a big factor in helping me stay sober. But I later realised that this time I wasn't doing it for her. Those two newly sober AA guys had given me a glimpse of a whole new possible future. I was intrigued and wanted more.
Saturday came, and I met the guys . After a train and taxi ride I entered a room of bright-eyed, happy, smiling and laughing people. It was the first of many AA meetings. I was home. The long, crazy roller coaster ride was over.
I'm one of the lucky ones. I was freed from the desire to drink almost instantly. But I quickly grasped that AA was not a method for simply giving up drinking. Much more important was dealing with the character defects and the physical, emotional and above all spiritual sickness that was at the root of my disease. For that there is no quick fix. It takes a lifetime.
That's what this trip and this blog is all about. My two fellow Brits in Japanese AA both had the chance to go to the last two international conventions in Minneapolis and Toronto. At that time I was tied up with work, but I always said that if I had a chance I'd try to make the next one in San Antonio. I've been planning this trip for the last five years. I decided to take a whole summer to travel in the States, seeing friends in and out of the programme, and trying to make as many meetings as possible.
Due to a variety of circumstances I never did the 90 meetings in 90 days that is recommeneded to newcomers. So I figured now is a good chance to at least attempt that. With just under 12 years of sobriety, but with those pesky and hard-to-shake character defects still making my life difficult, it's a good time to refresh and re-connect with this wonderful programme that has given me a new chance in life. These last eleven years of sobriety have been wonderful. My wife has a smile on her face, and I try and mostly succeed in being the good husband and decent human being I've always wanted to be. But complacency is a killer, and as the saying goes, 'If you're not progressing, you're regressing'.
So in the blog posts that follow I'll be sharing my experience of all the meetings I get a chance to attend. Please feel free to share your thoughts about anything I write. All comments and contributions will be really welcome as I proceed on this long journey around the U.S.A. Also, please feel free to share this blog if you feel it has any value, especially for newcomers. However, do please keep it to members of the AA programme. Anonymity is the spiritual foundation on which our programme is based. In the blog I'll always endeavour to maintain that principle, so please point out any occasions when I slip up in that area.
So, until the next post, thanks to all of you for the big part you all play and have played in my sobriety.
Kev
The last three years of my drinking were a nightmare. I had moved to Japan with the express purpose of setting up my own little English language school. I knew as clear as day that if I drank there would be trouble. I swore to my wife and to myself that I would not drink in Japan. I arrived at Tokyo Narita airport after a long 12-hour flight from London. We got the Narita Express train to Tokyo station. We had a three hour journey up to my wife's hometown. My wife went to the toilet, and in the time she was gone I went to the platform kiosk and bought 3 100ml tubs of strong Japanese rice vodka. I downed one there and then, and kept two to drink on the toilet on the train. There was absolutely no resistance. My solemn pledge meant nothing. I fancied a drink and I got a drink, simple as that.
By the time we arrived in Morioka, I was half cut. My disappointed and bewildered wife wondered how on earth I had managed to get drunk even though I'd hardly been out of her sight for a few minutes at a time. But for drunks of my kind, such deception and subterfuge were second nature.
So began three terrible years. On the one hand I worked hard to set up our school. Our timing was good, and in a short space of time we had a viable number of students. I got extra work teaching in our local university. We moved into a nice apartment. On the face of it, it was a successful move. Things should have ticked along nicely. But at every step of the way, my alcoholism and the character defects that were inextricably linked with it undermined all we were trying to do.
I was trapped in a vicious cycle of self-destruction punctuated by bouts of shame, guilt and remorse. My disease was getting progressively worse. Always loud, abusive and aggressive when I drank too much, I was becoming more and more violent and insane. I tried the usual futile methods to control my drinking; beer only, vodka only; only at parties; never at parties etc etc. I tried to fool my wife by becoming a secret drinker, but the only person I was fooling was myself. I took to drinking in the mornings before work. Then a top up at lunchtime. Then those long white knuckle evenings waiting for my wife to go to bed so I could sneak out of the apartment to buy booze from a 24-hour convenience store and drink it alone in my office. I smashed up my office in the school we had worked so hard to set up. I smashed up our beautiful apartment. It was a path of incomprehensible and pitiful self-destruction.
Finally, I hit bottom. On my last night of drinking I violently abused my wife when she refused to give me the equivalent of 5 dollars to buy more booze. I came to the next morning. Devastated by the shame of what I had done, the only solution I had to the pain of what I was experiencing was the usual one of numbing it all with more booze. I headed to work via the liquor store. I managed to get through my first class, but by lunchtime and with more vodka inside me, I had to close up my school. I could hear the kids turning up for their 4:00 class knocking at the shutters. I just hid under my desk until they went away.
This could not go on. I was utterly beaten and utterly exhausted. In my drunken state I remembered the little ad I saw every day in The Japan Times. 'Do you have a problem with alcohol?', it asked, and gave a number to call. I called the number, and was disappointed to find that it was an answering machine. I left my details, but kept calling back. No answer. I staggered home and crashed out. The next morning my wife woke me. I had a call from Tokyo. A guy told me of two fellow British people who lived a train ride away from my home town. He said that they'd be in touch, and that in the meantime I should just try to stay off the booze. A little while later came another call. I arranged to meet the two local members of AA in a coffee bar the next Saturday, two days ahead.
I managed to white knuckle it until then, and then there they were, a tall and talkative Scottish guy and a quiet and serious English guy. I later found out that they only had a year and six months of sobriety respectively, and were as nervous as kittens about doing their first twelfth step. For me, the sheer relief at meeting two other people who understood what I was going through was immense. I felt all the burden of misery, guilt, despair and shame lifting, only to be replaced by a faint but real sense of hope. As they shared their stories, my own insane drinking came into some sort of perspective. They offered to take me up the folowing week to an American air base a couple of hours by train north of my city where there was an AA group.
I struggled through the next week. Calls to the two AA guys I had met helped, as did the long talks I had with my wife. For the first time in years I was able to talk to her honestly, without having my dirty secret to hide. Her incredible understanding and lack of bitterness was a big factor in helping me stay sober. But I later realised that this time I wasn't doing it for her. Those two newly sober AA guys had given me a glimpse of a whole new possible future. I was intrigued and wanted more.
Saturday came, and I met the guys . After a train and taxi ride I entered a room of bright-eyed, happy, smiling and laughing people. It was the first of many AA meetings. I was home. The long, crazy roller coaster ride was over.
I'm one of the lucky ones. I was freed from the desire to drink almost instantly. But I quickly grasped that AA was not a method for simply giving up drinking. Much more important was dealing with the character defects and the physical, emotional and above all spiritual sickness that was at the root of my disease. For that there is no quick fix. It takes a lifetime.
That's what this trip and this blog is all about. My two fellow Brits in Japanese AA both had the chance to go to the last two international conventions in Minneapolis and Toronto. At that time I was tied up with work, but I always said that if I had a chance I'd try to make the next one in San Antonio. I've been planning this trip for the last five years. I decided to take a whole summer to travel in the States, seeing friends in and out of the programme, and trying to make as many meetings as possible.
Due to a variety of circumstances I never did the 90 meetings in 90 days that is recommeneded to newcomers. So I figured now is a good chance to at least attempt that. With just under 12 years of sobriety, but with those pesky and hard-to-shake character defects still making my life difficult, it's a good time to refresh and re-connect with this wonderful programme that has given me a new chance in life. These last eleven years of sobriety have been wonderful. My wife has a smile on her face, and I try and mostly succeed in being the good husband and decent human being I've always wanted to be. But complacency is a killer, and as the saying goes, 'If you're not progressing, you're regressing'.
So in the blog posts that follow I'll be sharing my experience of all the meetings I get a chance to attend. Please feel free to share your thoughts about anything I write. All comments and contributions will be really welcome as I proceed on this long journey around the U.S.A. Also, please feel free to share this blog if you feel it has any value, especially for newcomers. However, do please keep it to members of the AA programme. Anonymity is the spiritual foundation on which our programme is based. In the blog I'll always endeavour to maintain that principle, so please point out any occasions when I slip up in that area.
So, until the next post, thanks to all of you for the big part you all play and have played in my sobriety.
Kev
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