Category: Lifeline

A drunk is lying on a bed in a hospital.

A doctor is sitting beside the bed.

The drunk wails in earnest, “…a wave of depression came over me. I realized that I was powerless, hopeless, that I couldn’t help myself, and that nobody else could help me. I was in black despair. And in the midst of this, I remembered about this God business…and I rose up in bed and said, ‘If there be a God, let him show himself now!’ Tell me doctor. Am I insane, or not?”

Fortunately for Bill, and A.A., the doctor was Dr. Silkworth. Very possibly, the future of A.A. hung on the doctor’s answer to that question. “These people do not want to do the things they do. They drink compulsively, against their will.” One of the early drunks whom Dr. Silkworth treated, a big husky six-foot man, dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face, and begged for a drink. “I said to myself then and there, this is not just a vice or habit. This is compulsion, this is pathological craving, this is a disease!”

It was there that Dr. Silkworth made the first of his indispensable contributions to A.A. He knew, by insight, what no amount of medical training can give a man; that what had happened to Bill was real, and important.

“I don’t know what you’ve got,” he told Bill, “but whatever it is, hang on to it. You are not insane. And you may already have the answer to your problem.”

The encouragement of the man of science, as much as the spiritual experience itself, started A.A. on its way. Although he died on March 22nd, 1951, Dr. Silkworth is yet with us. Because of his profound personal modesty, disarming gentleness, his unassuming skill, he accomplished his daily miracles of medical and spiritual healing, which continue in every room where two drunks meet. He was a prodigious and relentless worker, having spoken with over 51,000 alcoholics. This gentle doctor, with his white hair and soft blue eyes, was a man of immense personal courage. He went much farther than merely encouraging Bill’s faith in his spiritual experience; he saw to it that Bill was permitted to come back into Towns Hospital to share his discovery with other alcoholics.

Today, when “carrying the message to others” has become a very respectable part of an effective program, it is easy to forget that carrying the message undoubtedly found its genesis in Dr. Silkworth’s gentle hands.

Our technique has been mellowed and refined by the wisdom of experience. We know that the blinding light and overwhelming rush of God-consciousness are not necessary; that they are indeed very rare phenomena and the great majority of recoveries among us are of the much less spectacular, and lean toward the more educational kind.

Why did he do it?

The answer to that is the answer to Dr. Silkworth’s whole career: he loved drunks. Early in his career, at a time when alcoholism was almost universally regarded as a willful and deliberate persistence in a nasty vice, Dr. Silkworth came to believe in the essential goodness of the alcoholic. He loved drunks. But there was nothing in the least degree fatuous or sentimental about that love. It was an almost surgical love. There was the warmest of light in those blue eyes, but still they could burn right through to the bitter core of any lie, any sham. He could see through egotism, self-pity and similar miseries we drunks so cleverly use to hide our fear and shame. All this he did, while insisting rigorously that recovery was possible only on a moral basis; “You cannot go two ways on a one-way street” he never preached, never denounced, nor criticized. He allowed you, rather, to make your own judgments. “It’s a gift,” he would say.

Dr. Silkworth not only had vision, he gave vision.

Jeremy B.

“Each group should be autonomous except in matters affecting other groups or A.A. as a whole”

Because of Tradition Four, each group can be autonomous. This means that each group has the right to run a meeting in any format that they wish and because of this if you explore enough meetings I believe you can find one that is right for you. Salt Lake has about 55 meeting a day of Alcoholics Anonymous. Most meetings I have attended are similar in format. Some meetings start off the meeting by having someone read from the big book, most meeting’s last an hour and then usually end by the group circling up and saying the serenity prayer. Although this is the majority basic format for most meetings I have attended, it hasn’t been for all.  I found comfort in a young peoples meeting. It was a meeting that majority of my friends did not like, but it was a meeting that I appreciated and attended regularly. The format was structured different than that of my home group, it was more rambunctious and I loved the free spirit of the young alcoholic. Just because a large portion of people I knew did not like this meeting did not mean it was harmful to AA as a whole.

My home group is a Twelve and Twelve step study meeting. The group reads through the Twelve and Twelve and then discusses the step that was just read. The second Friday of the month the group reads then discusses the tradition that corresponds with whatever month it is.

If you’re new to Alcoholics Anonymous and haven’t found a meeting that’s right for you, I encourage you to seek out other meetings. We have beginner meetings, traditions meetings, meditation meetings, young people meetings, discussion meetings, open meetings, speaker meetings etc. And if you still haven’t found a meeting that is right for you, I encourage you to take advantage of this tradition and start your own meeting, format it any way you’d like. But please keep in mind the rest of the traditions.

Damian T.

For me, the Fourth Step is not just a list between the pages of a well-hidden journal, but the Fourth Step is a continuous, yet imperfect practice of empathy. Although I completed an exhaustively detailed Fourth Step, one that extended back to childhood events that had occurred before I had acquired the language to articulate them, and extended forward to fears of impossible and distant somedays, new fears and resentments—or seemingly new configurations thereof—arise on a daily basis.

In my Fourth Step, perennial patterns emerged, a consistent calculus of character defects, which are not the result of my uniquely dark soul, but are merely human. And, when resentments emerge, as they so often do, I must remember that other people, too, are human, and try to extend to them the same tolerance, pity, and patience that has been so cheerfully and gracefully granted to me. When I am actively practicing the Fourth Step, I need to look at other human beings, in all their fragility and fallibility, and think, “ You must feel a pain that I, too, have felt.” We are told that we must ask ourselves in what ways we are similar to others, where are we to blame? Although I might not identify with someone else’s particular action, or in other situations, I might feel blameless, I can identify with the entrenched insecurities, the deep emotional wounds, and the fears that gnarl us and cause us to make the mistakes that I once thought only I could make.

I remember reading my Fourth Step to my sponsor—in my backyard, at coffee shops, at her kitchen table—and what I remember most are not the things I told her, but how she gently empathized with nearly every item in my inventory. And how what once felt so sinister and secret no longer separated me from others. If she could identify with what seemed to be the worst parts of me, perhaps I could learn to identify with others. The cruelest thing I could ever do is to disregard the emotional complexities of others, thereby denying them their humanity. And to truly be human is to empathize with everyone, absolutely everyone.

Tasha M.

Having been raised in a religious family, I was, like so many of us were, told what God was. After years of praying as I was educated to pray, of believing I should have visions and conversations with God, and failing to make that sort of contact with It (I’ll refrain from using gender related terms about God, as I don’t believe It’s a “He” or a “She”) I had given up on my premature spiritual quest and grew into an agnostic myself. A lover of all sciences, I was quick to point out the fallacies in other’s logic behind their faith and assert that evolution, the Big Bang Theory, etc… were the forces at work in the Universe, and not a Supreme Being. Ironically, my belief in God today finds no contention in my belief in evolution or science, but rather the opposite; these are forces, greater than myself, which I believe are part of the totality of God.

I wasted a lot of energy and time looking for visual and tangible evidence of God’s existence. I had certain false ideas about what God was, and required the type of miracles written about in the Old Testament for proof of God’s existence. I also fancied myself exceptional, and fantasized that I would be given super powers, like Herculean strength, or at least be fire proof, as I was a budding pyromaniac and amateur bombologist in my youth. Needless to say I was never given the ability to walk on water, or even part my glass of milk like young Moses in the Far Side cartoon.

Shortly after leaving my church and losing my feeble faith I found alcohol, and God wasn’t as important to me. I had found a power greater than myself which seemed to solve my problems. I could feel alcohol in my veins, giving me the sensation of power I’d always wanted. I felt like Samson. Both Samson and I were vulnerable to untrustworthy women (that’s another story), and sobering up was the equivalent of cutting off my hair, so drinking as often as possible had its attractions. I drank as much as I could, as often as I could, for as long as I could. My drinking lifestyle soon became problematic, leading to DUI’s, several arrests, ER visits, loss of jobs, failed relationships, and so on. I tried as many forms of solving the alcohol problem as I could invent. Most of them relied upon me and my insufficient will power. I feared asking for help, and didn’t see how AA, which I’d found in my few halfhearted attempts, unsuccessful.

My bottom was when I finally admitted the futility of my controlling alcohol and the imagined impossibility of living sober the rest of my life. I experienced a nervous breakdown and destroyed my Dad’s basement. The following morning I received a call from my Dad, who’d been out of town at the time I broke into his house, stole his booze, and had a big boy temper tantrum. He told me he wasn’t angry, but rather concerned, and that it was time for me to get help again. I was so relieved to hear that he was offering the help I couldn’t ask for. He was willing to pay for my treatment. That day I called a treatment center and made an appointment for what would be an extended stay. My last two days of drinking were somber times, and not the debaucherous farewell I’d romanticized about when I would finally say good bye to alcohol and grow up. I’d accepted my hopeless situation and was willing to do, at that time, whatever it took to get sober. I’m able to look back on my bottom and interpret it as the moment when I allowed God to enter my life. Something had changed in me that night I broke down. I was graced by God, in the form of unbearable self inflicted pain, to the point where I was then willing to do what was necessary. I caused all that pain, but God made it so it was too uncomfortable to live that way any longer. That was the force that got me sober. To me that is Grace.

The most important line to me in this chapter, and one of the most helpful to me in my growing spirituality, is that “God is either everything, or else He is nothing. God either is, or He isn’t.” This simplified my complicated way of looking at God, and summed it up perfectly. God is everything to me today. God is present in all life and matter, and is an unlimited force, available to me whenever I seek it. It’s taken me all of these past 2000 or so days of continuous sobriety for my conception of God to be what it is. I doubt I’ll ever understand what my Higher Power really is, but my faith continues to grow. I didn’t believe in God when I first came to AA. I had extreme difficulty in praying and practicing the suggestions and steps. I’m sober today, and I haven’t obsessed about alcohol in a very long time. I believe that God is responsible for this, as God is responsible for everything in my life today. I’m grateful to be a member of Alcoholics Anonymous, which was my first effective Higher Power, and I owe my life to this life changing program.

Patrick R.

“Our common welfare should come first; personal recovery depends upon A.A. unity.”

“Each member of Alcoholics Anonymous is but a small part of a great whole. A.A. must continue to live or most of us will surely die. Hence our common welfare comes first. But individual welfare follows close afterward.”

Our whole A.A. program is securely founded on the principle of humility–that is to say, perspective. Which implies, among other things, that we relate ourselves rightly to God and to our fellows; that we each see ourselves as we really are–“a small part of a great whole.” Seeing our fellows thus, we shall enjoy group harmony. That is why A.A. Tradition can confidently state, “Our common welfare comes first.”

“Does this mean,” some will ask, “that in A.A. the individual doesn’t count too much? Is he to be swallowed up, dominated by the group?”

No, it doesn’t seem to work out that way. Perhaps there is no society on earth more solicitous of personal welfare, more careful to grant the individual the greatest possible liberty of belief and action. Alcoholics Anonymous has no “musts.” Few A.A. groups impose penalties on anyone for non-conformity. We do suggest, but we don’t discipline. Instead, compliance or non-compliance with any principle of A.A. is a matter for the conscience of the individual; he is the judge of his own conduct. Those words of old time, “Judge not,” we observe most literally.

“But,” some will argue, “if A.A. has no authority to govern its individual members or groups, how shall it ever be sure that the common welfare does come first? How is it possible to be governed without a government? If everyone can do as he pleases, how can you have aught but anarchy?”

The answer seems to be that we A.A.s cannot really do as we please, though there is no constituted human authority to restrain us. Actually, our common welfare is protected by powerful safeguards. The moment any action seriously threatens the common welfare, group opinion mobilizes to remind us; our conscience begins to complain. If one persists, he may become so disturbed as to get drunk; alcohol gives him a beating. Group opinion shows him that he is off the beam, his own conscience tells him that he is dead wrong, and, if he goes too far, Barleycorn brings him real conviction.

So it is we learn that in matters deeply affecting the group as a whole, “our common welfare comes first.” Rebellion ceases and cooperation begins because it must; we have disciplined ourselves.

Eventually, of course, we cooperate because we really wish to; we see that without substantial unity there can be no A.A., and that without A.A. there can be little lasting recovery for anyone. We gladly set aside personal ambitions whenever these might harm A.A. We humbly confess that we are but “a small part of a great whole.”

~ Bill W.

Reprinted with permission from
 The A.A. Grapevine, December, 1947

Aside from the belligerent behavior and systematic sabotage of my life and everything within it which I held/hold dear, WHAT’S TO BE EMBARRASSED ABOUT? Surely there are millions upon millions whom probably in more ways than not are like me. I’ve heard some numbers, but I don’t know the source reference, so let’s just say I’m estimating. Nevertheless, here I am 25 years later, finally wizening up (if that’s not a stretch); sobering up. One day I’m drunk/drinking and the next day different. There’s nothing magic about it, really. I had given up waiting on the world to uphold some strange ethical code I had in my head/heart? I had all but given up my own. I gave up on myself and the world happily supported that. That cliché about looking yourself in the eye, as much as I hate clichés, well, that happened to me. The disgust I had for the image in the mirror that day, it literally made me sick to my stomach. Well, that, and the binge hangover, I’m sure.

I remembered when I was vibrant and dynamic. I could keep my own gaze with confidence. I commanded what I did rather than hoped for it. I had a plan (WHAT A LAUGH). Age may have played a factor in all this as well while I studied the deepening lines on my face (damn those clichés) and thought – How did I become this? Long had it been since I bothered to look at myself. The person I saw that day and the one I remembered were two different people. But one in the same. How confusing was that day, huh?
I had been to A.A. before. 15 years ago I received a month sobriety chip. I loved the program but then paid a visit to an old friend and returned to old habits. I told myself, if I could do it for 30 days, I could do it for an eternity, when I was ready (I said I loved the program, not grasped it).  After that point I still held A.A. in high regard, though only as a good alternative lifestyle, when the time came.
This time, my motivation wasn’t the rock bottom moment which I shared. At least not at first. It was simply for my most recent drunk buddy. “Sure,” I told myself, “it was him who got me into this stupor. I might be messed up, but damn, he fell asleep at the bar!” In my opinion, that was a line you just didn’t cross!
So I took it upon myself to be the good friend that got him some help.  Being his coworker also, I pestered him all day.  Eventually, he caved and agreed to a meeting with me that night. There were a few stipulations, but I figured if I could just get him there, A.A. could put the whammy on him. So I set it up.
I made sure to arrive a little early to tell the people how things needed to go in order to keep him (HA!) “Please don’t call any attention to us. We just want to observe.”, I instructed. I think we all know how that went. Chips, hugs and names were exchanged, and to make a long story short, he never went back but I did, and continue doing so. Eventually, even though he still suffers, I realized what had taken place, and thanked him for being a supportive friend by getting me through those doors.
It hasn’t been peaches ‘n’ cream by any means. I still get cravings and mood swings, have picked up and put down step 4 several times, am seeking another sponsor, and am trying to tough my way through these things labeled “Service Work”. I already see a monumental improvement across the board. I’m not drinking, going to meetings, and trying to carry the message. The one that works for me is: “If you want to continue drinking, that’s your business. If you want to STOP drinking, that’s OUR business.” And so it is.

Thanks for letting me share.

~ Danny S.
Salt Lake City, UT

Hello friends of the Fellowship, I’m a happy member of the Acceptance group of A.A. I’m thrilled to be living sober and serving as a part of this miracle we call Alcoholics Anonymous. I was asked to share my experience, strength, and hope regarding step 1. We admitted we were powerless over alcohol – that our lives had become unmanageable. Here’s how it happened for me.

I tried alcohol when I was ten years old. Some friends and I got into his mother’s liquor that she had under the sink. It was vodka and whiskey. I can’t remember everything that happened, but I recall laughing a lot while talking with a religious leader who rarely laughed. At 13 I found a bottle of whiskey left over from a party that I hid in my drawer. Again, I can’t remember everything that happened, but I recall laughing, jumping around on my bed, falling down a lot, and waking up, naked and bruised. 14-17 was a lot of alcohol, weed, laughing and jumping around, more nakedness, more bruises, cops, handcuffs, upset parents, more drinking, more cops, more upset parents, some legal fees, and then some sobriety while I did some service for the popular religious organization in Utah.

I returned from my religious service in a foreign land believing that I would live happily ever after, but that didn’t happen. My curiosity found alcohol again. I was without defense. I took one drink, and it turned into thousands thereafter. Again, there was the laughter, jumping around, nakedness, bruises, close calls with the cops, upset parents, bars, parties etc. . . It was during this time that I found the courage to look inside myself and see that I was homosexual, and that the religion I was raised with was not the one for me. That was a painful experience filled with tears and mixed emotions. My understanding of life, God, and happiness twisted and shattered. Alcohol consumed me. I drank, I partied, I raved, I sobbed in anger, bitterness, and sorrow. Then there was a deep emptiness. I would drink and laugh at parties, but inside I felt so far away – so alone. I would wake up in the night drunk and crying not knowing why I was crying. There was no joy left in drinking.

I couldn’t stop drinking. I wanted to stop, but I couldn’t. This perplexed me, made me laugh a little bit, and then it scared me. I was in something worse than a bad situation. Deep inside I knew it. I contacted a friend and told her what was happening to me. She shared her story with me and I knew that she knew exactly what I was talking about. Her honesty exposed me to the cold fact that I have a progressive disease, and that it will kill me if I drink. I dumped the remainder of my booze, sobered up at her place for a few days, got introduced to Alcoholics Anonymous, and I haven’t had a drink since.

Alcoholics Anonymous has presented me with a way to live happily without drinking. I don’t ever have to drink again, and I don’t want to. I work the steps and they work for me. I have respectfully set aside the religion of my up-bringing. I am content with the sexuality I have been given. I cherish a flexible understanding of Higher Powers, I enjoy a beautiful life today and I owe it to the miracle of Alcoholics Anonymous. It sounds too good to be true, but it’s not. Reach out in humility, and you too will be rocketed into the fourth dimension of living.

The Acceptance Group
361 North 300 West SLC
Sundays 3:00pm

In September of 2011, Christy R, Nick R and I went to the annual Central Office/Intergroup/AAWS/AA Grapevine Seminar in Tucson, AZ. We thought there might be some answers for the questions we were hearing at the Salt Lake Central Office. Our then Central Office manager was not going to attend the event, and we felt attendance could be beneficial to the Salt Lake Central Office.

We found the Seminar to be a 3-day whirlwind of information and discussion, most of it relevant to our topics of concern. We appreciated the presence of GSO and the Grapevine, we met our Central Office/GSO contact, Jim K and our GSO office manager, Phyllis H. We met many people from all over the country, doing what we do. We left there a little puzzled (and bruised) by the refusal of the Seminar to share with us their wealth of information contained in a database that was accessible to “office managers only.”

We returned home and discussed our experience, wondering what happens next. Since we each paid for the trip out-of-pocket, it wasn’t likely that we would be attending another Seminar. We had no access to the database. We wanted to continue having a venue of discussion with other Central Office/Intergroups. We considered the five Central Office/Intergroups in Utah and the idea to hold our own “Seminar” was born.

The Outreach Committee at Salt Lake Central Office began preparation for a “gathering” in Salt Lake City. An invitation went out from the Salt Lake Central Office to the Ogden Central Office, Cache Valley Intergroup, Utah Valley Central Office, Dixie Central Office and the Utah Area 69 Delegate to attend the five hour gathering, with a request for topics of discussion. The response was overwhelmingly positive with acceptance from all invitees.

We met on a Saturday in mid-March, had a wonderful 5-hour discussion about various issues and topics, exchanged phone numbers and emails and left contented, but wondering what happens next?

Erin B, office manager for the Cache Valley Intergroup, was very inspired by the event. She was particularly interested in more contact with Area 69 and requested funding from her Intergroup to attend the next Assembly. The Intergroup did not approve the expenditure. Erin called GSO and talked to our contact, Jim  at the group-services desk, to see if there was anything in the collective consciousness about her predicament. Jim told her of a conference call that had been started in Maryland that kept the Central Offices connected, and the Area also took part in the call.

Erin spoke with the moderator, Cynthia T, and learned that the call had been going on for a year or so and they were having great success with it. Erin and I were invited to join one of their calls. I was amazed at the amount of information that passed between the attendees: announcements of upcoming events, follow-up on previously planned events, and reports from the delegate and each of the offices.

Erin was very excited about the possibility of having a conference call here in Utah with the attendees from the previous gathering. I was very excited at the thought of maintaining continuity, an annual event seemed a little sparse. We have issues, people. Erin created an account on a free web service that allows unlimited numbers of callers and can record the conversation for those who might have missed it. The invitations went out and we waited.

The first Utah Central Office/Intergroup monthly conference call was held on September 26, 2012. Cynthia graciously accepted our invitation to attend and gave an opening presentation of the experience, strength and hope of her Area and Intergroups. She had many valuable insights as the call went on. We really appreciate her kindness, and her willingness to stay up well past bed time. On the east coast, she joined the call at 10pm! Our Area delegate was on the call, even though the attendance doesn’t indicate he was there (sorry Keith!), and we are very grateful for his strong interest and support of the central offices and intergroups in Utah. He was very grateful to be able to attend in his pajamas.

We had a great meeting full of interesting topics and some ground-rule setting. It was discovered through this call that there were many events coming up in the following month that may have been better planned if we had been in contact with each other. I’m looking forward to the growth and effectiveness of the conference call. It’s available to anyone who is interested in attending, contact outreach@saltlakeaa.org for the call-in number.

In loving service,

Wendy W.
Salt Lake Central Office Outreach Chair
outreach@saltlakeaa.org