Many of us doubted there was even any point trying not to drink. Things had gotten
so far downhill it looked like nothing was going to change — ever. We knew drinking has something to do with the hurt we felt inside, but we also knew it
seemed to be the only thing keeping us from falling apart.It seemed impossible to think that things had gotten so out of hand. Not long ago we were reaching for alcohol as a source of enjoyment, a healer of pain.
"I had always been what I would call a heavy drinker, though for most of my early and middle twenties I really felt that I had it under control. Why not drink, I
reasoned. After all, I didn't have the family responsibilities that some of my straight friends had. Why shouldn't I enjoy myself?"Alcohol was the source of good times,
of fun — in the bars, in the clubs, drinking right from the bottle. It was fun. And it made life more exciting, more dramatic. Sure we occasionally drank too much, but
somehow it always seemed to work out."At 17 I had no conception of what it meant to plan a career or to take care of myself. It seemed so easy to pick up a drink at a
party. I was afraid my female friends would reject me if I told them I was a lesbian. I did not go into a gay bar until I was 20."
For some of us our alcoholism developed slowly, but others of us seemed to be
alcoholics right from the start.
"I was an instant alcoholic — drinking purely for the effect it had on me, and I remained a practicing alcoholic for 28 years."During that time I foolishly spent
many thousands of dollars, destroyed many relationships, gave up my education received two drunk driving charges, and spent ten days in a county workhouse. I never voluntarily stopped short of drunkenness.
"As humiliating and destructive as these things were, they did not seem so bad to me at the time. They were merely a way of life — the way of life for an unfortunate
alcoholic. It could have been so much worse and I knew it. However, what I did not know is that I had lost a sense of who and what I was, and had alienated myself
from everyone in my world. That was the major cost of my alcoholism."Even though we might not have been able to see it or to say exactly when it happened,
somewhere along the line, alcohol had turned on us. We no longer knew what its effect on us would be. It wasn't fun anymore. The lights were beginning to go out, one by one.
No longer were we center stage. Instead we were passing out and waking up full of fear, not knowing where we were or who we were with. We started wondering what was real in our lives. Could this be happening to us?
"As time went on I took a job in a small, quiet town. I did some part-time work and I was staying busy — so busy I didn't have time to be alone and face myself"Five
years later, I was transferred to a larger, more prestigious office where I felt more open about being gay. But I was not doing well, and I was unable to control myself.
I was creating crisis where there could have been calm.
"Then I was arrested twice within three months for driving while intoxicated. My
house of cards was tumbling down. Not even alcohol was my friend anymore. I had abandoned self, friends and God. All that remained were intensive blackouts, the
alcohol that my body demanded and the despair that had accompanied each drink."
It started to make more and more sense for us to not drink at all, but we didn't even know where to begin. There was a solution
"I truly believed I could not emotionally survive alone, and so I attached myself to lovers with an extraordinary level of dependence. I was terrified of being
abandoned and the bottom line of each of these relationships was that I would do anything to prevent these lovers from leaving me. Self-esteem and self-respect were
unknown to me. I felt worthless and so I acted out accordingly."Of almost equal importance was the necessity of appearances. I tried desperately to control my
drinking. Each day I would vow I was not going to drink, but no matter how hard I tried I always lost the battle. There was no doubt in my mind that I was a drunk. All
the evidence was in, and it was incontrovertible; but I was helpless to change it. I had tried for the last five years with absolutely no success.
" Then one night — a night no different from thousands of others — I was drunk, crying, and crawling around on my the bedroom floor. I was so tired, sick,
miserable, and defeated that I just couldn't hold it together any more. I didn't have the energy to care anymore, and for the first time in my life I sincerely asked for
help. The help came that night and it has continued to come, whenever I have been willing to ask. That night is also the last time I had a drink."Many of us had heard of
A. A., but had always thought, "Well, I'm not that bad. I don't need to do anything about my drinking, yet." But slowly we began to realize that we needed help. We
couldn't beat alcohol on our own. "Finally, I had my last drunk. I drank vodka with diet soda and took pills. That last drunk almost cost me my life, and I ended up and in an intensive care unit.
"The insanity of the disease is something else. When my doctor came in to see me I told him that if he let me out I would do it all over again. This prompted a transfer to
the psychiatric ward. I remained in a psychiatric setting for six weeks after that, making ceramic cups and ashtrays.
"Once I started coming to I realized that I was lucky. By that I mean lucky to have a
disease that could be treated by working the A.A. Program. Some other people are not that lucky. It was in the psychiatric hospital that I accepted the fact that I am an
alcoholic. A trip through the psych ward is not a road I recommend, but it was something I apparently needed to do."
Once over the initial high hurdles, though, there was at least a glimmer of hope.
"The day I called A.A., I believed that I was losing the only thing I had left that meant anything to me — my lover. I have since come to realize that it's difficult, if
not impossible, to stay sober for anyone else. But at that time I had my first taste of what A.A.'s call the bottom, and I reached for the phone book."I'll never forget that
first phone call: the fear, the mental confusion, the uncertainty. I was hurting, both physically and emotionally in the aftermath of yet another terrible drunken
confrontation with my partner. I felt as if I had reached the end and had nothing left to lose . The voice on the other end of the phone took my name and number and told
me to hang on for a few minutes; she would have someone call. And someone did call, a man from my town. He told me his name, said that he was an alcoholic, and
asked me to go to a meeting that night."When Joe came by that night, my worst fears were confirmed. He was an older man, fiftyish, driving a station wagon and wearing
a baseball cap. Though I was immediately persuaded that we had nothing in common, I soon found him so unassuming and so uncanny in his remarks about
drinking that I found myself relaxing and even managed to add a few words to the conversation.
"When we arrived at the meeting place, I was led into a room containing a complete
cross-section of our town: men and women, young and old, working people and professionals, students and housewives. It's hard to put into words the feelings that
went through me."By listening to the men and women discuss their alcoholism frankly and openly, I came to believe that I, too, was suffering from the same
disease. Hardly any seemed curious about my private life; they were satisfied with whatever I cared to share with them about myself. A few weeks into the program, I
determined to ask one of my new friends to be my sponsor. I blurted out that he should know that I was gay before giving me his answer. I remembered that while
he seemed a little surprised by my declaration, he didn't hesitate even a moment before accepting. I learned that in AA that we cannot afford to be judgmental. As
alcoholics, our very lives depend on our acceptance of and willingness to help newcomers, regardless of their backgrounds."The support that we find in AA
meetings is the bond which ties us all together. Since the beginning, AA groups have traditionally welcomed anyone with a drinking problem and many gay and lesbian
members feel very much at home in any AA group. There are those of us, however, who feel more comfortable in gay groups, where for a time we find it easier to
identify as an alcoholic or to be open about certain personal issues.
"I refused to go to the gay groups because I did not want to be identified as a
homosexual. Because of this, and not being able to let anyone really know me in AA (as this would mean saying I was gay), I did not make any real progress my first six
months in AA. I tried to get drunk twice, but for some reason was not able to drink more than four or five beers each time.
"I finally went to a gay group and a man came over and talked to me after the
meeting. He became my first sponsor. He was able to give me much of the help I needed to start on the road to sobriety."
Recovery from alcoholism is no small feat, so we need all the help we can get. And
there's plenty of it within AA in whatever sort of AA group you choose to go to."Our gay and lesbian group began with two or three members, and in the past year
and a half we've grown to five regular members. We are small, but we are recovering and acting as an inlet for men and women who are afraid that they won't
be accepted by the AA community because they are gay."Although we are a gay and lesbian group, we don't lose sight of the fact that our primary purpose is to carry the
message of recovery from alcoholism. In many respects we are no different from other AA groups. We no longer have to feel unique simply because we are gay. We
can now concentrate on the similarities between us and other alcoholics rather than the differences."Initially, I thought that being an alcoholic was the worst thing that
could have happened to me. But I have since learned that my disease, or more appropriately, my recovery, is my long-awaited ticket to freedom."
It has often been said that when one alcoholic has planted in the mind of another the true nature of his or her malady, that person will never be the same again.
"After coming into AA and listening to people share their experience, strength and hope, those unnamed fears began to vanish. I realized that the AA people understood
me — something I'd been looking for all my life. That terrible apartness from the human race and the loneliness began to disappear."While AA may not have the
solution to all our problems, if we are willing to follow the simple suggestions of the AA program, we will find a solution to our drinking problem and a way to live life one day at a time without alcohol.
"AA has provided the constant source of support so vitally necessary to me while I learned to trust myself. I have learned that my being a lesbian has nothing to do with
my alcoholism. Alcoholism is a disease that ignores sexual preference. I have also learned that I am capable of standing alone, and am therefore free to choose the people with whom I wish to share my life.
"That life is developing along lines that bring satisfaction, joy, love, a sense of accomplishment and a sense of peace to me. I feel capable of dealing with the
disappointments and frustrations that once overwhelmed me. I now see such things as a normal part of living, not just the punishment meted out to me. This knowledge
frees me to genuinely enjoy the good things when they come along.
"Today I am free of my dependency upon alcohol and my need for other people to
supply my identity. Thanks to AA, I am free to be who and what I am, and free to actively participate in my own life. There is no greater gift, and I will be forever grateful."
