Mr. SponsorPants

"As the day goes on..." Life saving (literally) practical advice from the Step Eleven

 

 

As the day goes on, we can pause where situations must be met and decisions made, and renew the simple request: "Thy will, not mine, be done."  If at these points our emotional disturbance happens to be great, we will more surely keep our balance, provided we remember, and repeat to ourselves, a particular prayer or phrase that has appealed to us in our reading or meditation.  Just saying it over and over will often enable us to clear a channel choked up with anger, fear, frustration, or misunderstanding, and permit us to return to the surest help of all -- our search for God's will, not our own, in the moment of stress.  At these critical moments, if we remind ourselves that "it is better to comfort than to be comforted, to understand than to be understood, to love than to be loved," we will be following the intent of Step Eleven.

 

-- "Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions"  (AA's 12 & 12) pg. 103

 

punishing/rewarding -- as always, I speak only for myself here. my experience, my thoughts, my journey.

 

 

"...and eventually, I had to let go of the idea of a 'punishing' God..." the speaker was discussing their experience with the 11th Step, and when they shared this many heads in the room nodded a little, affirming their own journey along similar lines.

When they said it though, I was struck that while I, too, had crossed that same bridge -- identifying where in my attitudes I met the idea of a Higher Power with mistrust or fear -- the next step for me was to let go of the idea of a rewarding God as well. (Which, rather than meeting the idea of HP with fear, is about meeting God with expectations and an attempt to control It ).

In many ways, it was more frightening to let go of the idea of a God who would reward me than it was challenging to let go of the idea of a God who would punish me.  (I'm always looking for a way to control, a pay out or a guarantee.)

The recipe analogy came to mind:  I follow the steps in a cake recipe, and I wind up baking a cake.  But at the end of that process I don't pull the cake out of the oven and go "Oh! I've been such a good dooby, following this recipe as its written, that the Oven God rewarded me with a cake!"  I followed a process and I got a result. 

For me, AA's recipe is similarly devoid of "reward." (Though in a more poetic mood I can certainly use that term to illustrate some of the gratitude I feel for the life I have today.)  It's pretty straightforward, actually -- I follow the Steps, and live by AA's principles, and I get a specific result:  A spiritual experience which allows me to stay sober on a daily basis.  Additional benefits are a quiet(er) mind and a more open heart -- and perhaps a way of being which might maximize certain opportunities -- but that's just (forgive me) the frosting on the cake.  For me, it's not God "rewarding" me for doing AA.

(Because if I'm living with an idea of a Higher Power who is supposed to reward me for being good/sober, and then They don't... or They don't do it the way I think They should... well then, eventually, I'm in a lot of trouble.)

 

 

 

sometimes it's just being realistic

 

When considering myself, qualities I have, etc., -- hopefully along the course of self-examination and not self-obsession -- sometimes my assessments are off, and it is low self esteem at work (perhaps fueled by fear and alcoholism, but certainly able to do a number on me without any assistance from those two delightful companions).

But sometimes it's not low self esteem.

Sometimes I'm just being realistic.

From the book "Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions", pg. 67:

"Else why would we consume such great amounts of time wishing for what we have not, rather than working for it, or angrily looking for attributes we shall never have, instead of adjusting to the fact, and accepting it."  (italics mine)

I can try to achieve anything, try to be anything, and if I keep my sobriety first and work to keep some kind of spiritual connection going I'll get a wonderful result -- but that doesn't mean I am guaranteed the specific result I wish to achieve.

Sobriety, AA, the 12 Steps, et al, are not white witchcraft or The Secret or any tool in which I can fashion the Universe -- or myself -- into exactly what I think it/I should have/be.

I seek, I try, I live in the process -- and when I'm really on my AA game I gracefully accept the result, and ultimately myself.

And with practice, that acceptance equals deep gratitude and self love -- which is a life saving act, as untreated addiction is an unstoppable, progressive slide into self loathing and ultimately spiritual and literal violence against oneself.

When it comes to certain things about myself, seeing without drama, without self-pity or longing, what I am not -- and what I will likely never be -- is not an exercise in negativity, it is acceptance of reality -- and if one is so inclined, of God's will as well.

 

And if you read this and it feels like I'm talking about excuses, or "giving up" or not setting and achieving goals, then either I wasn't clear or you're missing the point.

a poor choice of words

Yesterday's post -- actually, the wonderful, intelligent and thoughtful comments on yesterday's post -- have been working on me all night.  And I've come up with something important to me that I'd like to share here -- but first I need to give some context:

One of the things I've always loved about AA and the AA literature is how even-handed and open minded it is.  A favorite quote of mine in the book "Alcoholics Anonymous" (AA's Big Book), which exemplifies this tone, is found on the first page (pg. 44) of Chapter 4, "We Agnostics":

"If, when you honestly want to, you find you cannot quit entirely, or if when drinking you have little control over the amount you take, you are probably alcoholic."

No absolutes.  No finger shaking.  Plenty of room for consideration before agreeing with what is proposed.  That spirit of offering information without sounding a dogmatic bell is all over the Big Book.  There is certainly the occasional strongly worded suggestion, or -- given that we are talking a life-and-death struggle --  a sometimes grave and important warning, but the overall spirit of the Big Book is one of offering suggestions based on experience, without brow beating anyone while doing so.

How the Big Book became so balanced is fairly common knowledge.  Many people feel the writing is Divinely Inspired -- given how prophetic it has turned out to be, and how useful to so many people, I think you can make a lovely case for that -- but the fact is, the book was constructed as much as written, through the input of the first one hundred (roughly) sober alcoholics who started what we think of today as Alcoholics Anonymous.  Well aware that if they depended solely on word-of-mouth to pass along what they had discovered the message would likely become distorted, they set out to put their Steps and experience on paper.  And almost all the AA histories agree, that original group was divided 50/50 between the faithful (predominantly Christian) and agnostics.  Bill Wilson, one of AA's co-founders, was the man at the typewriter, but everyone reviewed and commented on the manuscript as it developed.  And this (mostly) friendly friction between the devout and the doubtful resulted in the balanced, open-minded wording throughout AA's primary text as we have it today.

13 years later, Bill Wilson himself set down to write the book "Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions."  If I have my history right, this was done in part to help AA as a whole embrace the Traditions, which came into being some time after AA got started.  But it was also a wonderful opportunity to flesh out some of the ideas in the Big Book.  I have often observed that, to me, the Big Book is like a road map, giving you clear cut directions on how to get from a broken, drunken life to a clean and sober one, while the 12&12 is like the travelog, warning you against bumps in the road, dangerous curves, and pointing out sights of interest along the way.

But it was written by one man, Bill himself.

I love the 12&12.  I've written extensively here about how, for example, in the Big Book the words "dry" and "sober" are used pretty much interchangeably, switched around more in an effort to improve the quality of the writing than with any real distinction that they might mean somewhat different things.  This concept came a bit later, and is discussed in much helpful detail by Bill in the 12&12.

And yet we have this, the subject of the post from yesterday:

"It is a spiritual axiom that every time we are disturbed,
no matter what the cause, there is something wrong with
us. If somebody hurts us and we are sore, we are in the
wrong also."

In my zeal to understand for myself what this means, and to offer some helpful insight to someone asking, I took a swing at making sense of it.  And what I wrote yesterday still works for me pretty well for me today.

And yet...

If I am to be completely honest, when I look at my thinking I can see how I was subjugating some of my common sense to find a way to embrace that statement -- I was laboring to make it work.

And nowhere in the Big Book, or in any meeting I've attended -- even though there is much talk of being completely willing, of surrender, etc.... does AA ask me to abandon my common sense.

(And to those who are not fans of AA, eager to pounce with an "Oh yeah?" and then site some terrible experience they had in the East Bumpluck group of Alcoholics Anonymous, I can only say that I am sorry you had a bad experience, that has not been what I have found in AA, and that AA never asks me to do anything I am not willing to do -- and the whole point of what I've written above about the Big Book is that while it may make strongly worded suggestions, it is not didactic in the least.  It does not require I give up my common sense, it only asks me to consider things differently.)

Thus, after reading the comments from yesterday, I have decided, for me, that while I love the 12&12, I think Bill made a poor choice of words when he chose such strong language, so full of absolutes, in expressing this particular idea.

The way the idea is presented (which is not the same as the idea itself, of course) is a bit of a sour note against the harmony of how open-minded and even handed so much of the rest of AA's literature is.

I don't need AA, or Bill Wilson, or me or you to be perfect.  My faith in the 12 Steps, and how effective they are as a way to stay sober, is completely unshaken by this new opinion -- this idea I've come to (again, for me) that in this little bit of writing Bill perhaps chose his words poorly.  God knows, after writing this blog five days a week for more than two years (seven days a week for the first few months, but that nearly broke me) I have an intimate understanding of how one can be making a point, feel strongly about it, but then the words on the page, cut free from verbal tone or facial expression, strike a tone more sharply than one may intend.

I don't know that about Bill's opinion of the 12&12 -- for all I know this was his very favorite few lines.  It's possible Lois got sick to death of him going on and on about how much he loved his little couplet of the spiritual axiom and how we are in the wrong, also -- though to harp upon it would have been a deadly error in the game of marriage dynamics chess, I wager, once Lois got Al-Anon up and running and learned how to detach with love, draw better boundaries and not take any more crap.  I fantasize sometimes about a little scene in their living room, after Lois got some recovery of her own:

Bill:  Lois, I'd like some coffee.

Lois:  You would?

Bill:  Yes.

Lois:  Alright dear.  The coffee's in the kitchen, if you make a pot bring me a cup too, would you?

Bill sits, jaw agape, for several moments, before closing it and heading into the kitchen.

Go Lo!

AA works.  The Big Book -- and the 12&12 -- are full of wonderful, life-saving information which continues to speak to me more than 20 years after I started reading it.

But for me, those couple of sentences in the 12&12 in Step 10 are not Bill's best work.

 

Questions via Email: A Spiritual Axiom

 

Dear Mr. SponsorPants,

In my Step Study meeting we were reading Step 10, and we came across the part that said that it's a spiritual axiom that every time we're disturbed there's something wrong with us.  It goes on with some examples.  I have a hard time with this.  I talked to my sponsor and although they tried to explain it I still didn't get it.  Actually, I kind of felt like they didn't get it either.  What is your take on this?

Not Buying It

 

Dear NBI,

I've had a lot of trouble with this one myself. First, just for the sake of accuracy and context, let's pull the quote:

"It is a spiritual axiom that every time we are disturbed,
no matter what the cause, there is something wrong with
us. If somebody hurts us and we are sore, we are in the
wrong also."

-- "Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions" (AA's 12&12) Step 10, pg. 90

The writing goes on to talk about how there might be some exceptions, some "justifiable anger" but these are no less dangerous for an alcoholic to live with.  The larger point here being that even if we have just cause, staying in resentment is toxic to an alcoholic's sobriety.  I think it's worth pointing out that this is not the same as saying we should not or will not feel anger, so much as to remind us that when we're angry we're vulnerable, and dwelling on those resentments is a bad idea.

But that larger point is one thing, this "spiritual axiom" is another.  It doesn't mince words, there's no analogy.  Every time I'm disturbed, no matter what upsets me, there is something wrong with me.

To which my initial response is:

Something wrong with me?  Seriously?  No matter what the cause?

Bite me.

Before I dive in, let me buy myself some time to come up with something good offer a definition, just to make sure we're all on the same playing field:

axiom (plural axioms or axiomata)

1. (philosophy) A self-evident and necessary truth; a proposition which it is necessary to take for granted; a proposition whose truth is so evident that no reasoning or demonstration can make it plainer.
   • 1999 Bertrand Russell, Charles R. Pigden, Russell on Ethics^[1]:

     Can we then find axioms as self-evident as those of Arithmetic, on which we can build as on a sure foundation, which could be shaken only by a scepticism which should attack the whole fabric of our knowledge?

2. (mathematics) A fundamental theorem that serves as a basis for deduction of other theorems. E.g., "A point has no mass; a line has no width. A plane is a flat surface with no mass and contains an infinity of points and lines".
3. An established principle in some art or science that is universally received.

Okay, by calling this an axiom the 12&12 calls this idea a "truth" along the lines of something obvious or irrefutable.  Great.  Now I find it even harder to swallow.

What has helped me make peace with this idea is to consider it in terms of "where there's smoke, there's fire."  That is, when I'm disturbed, it's a warning that I've got something going on I am not immediately aware of.

Here's an (embarrassing) example of how this works in my life:

I'm walking down the street.  I pass a stranger, just another person strolling along in the opposite direction.  Being a friendly fellow, I nod and offer a neighborly smile.  They ice me, ignoring my greeting.  Now (and here's the embarrassing part):  If I somehow feel, unconsciously, that they're "better" than me (in the loose, subconscious, snap judgment kind of comparison, i.e., hotter, richer, younger... whatever "er" most lines up with that particular day's brand of insecurity) then I think they are an aloof bastard, a snob, and I am angered at the snub.  But if I don't feel snubbed, it thus must be because, via that same, shallow, not-based-in-any-reality comparison criteria instantly running in the slimy cellar of my soul, it is because I feel better than the other person.  

To put this in the crudest possible way (because really, I haven't embarrassed myself enough for a Monday), if I think you're hotter than me and you don't say "hi" you're a bitch, but if I think you're not, then you're "shy" and I feel compassion for you.

(Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, in my own defense, please allow that I am exaggerating.  Slightly.)

So this spiritual axiom -- that if I am disturbed there is something wrong with me -- is really about the disturbance working like a smoke alarm; that there's a fire I am not aware of yet -- something going on (most likely under the surface) which in this case involves judgments, expectations and fears.  Because in the above example, I have the resentment before I have the understanding -- there's something "wrong with me" even as I find the other person's (admittedly) rude behavior unacceptable.  And I want to add, here, that just because I look to see how I am "in the wrong also" I am not necessarily saying that the other person is, ipso facto, not wrong.  I'm wrong also, in a spiritual sense, but perhaps not in an actual one.  Looking at our part in things does not excuse the bad behavior of other people.  An inventory is never about pretending a bad thing is good.  At heart, it's alway about clarity and insight.

What has helped me make peace with this sentiment is not to focus on the "wrong" -- which is what I did at first, triggering a "Hey! Waitaminute!" kind of thing -- and instead put my energy towards divining out what the "something" is.

And in the largest sense that's ultimately what this chapter in the 12&12 is about.  Step 10's purpose is to keep us current with ourselves, and continue to inventory our days so that the fire which sets off the smoke alarm doesn't burn down the whole house.

(God, that analogy is hokey crap.  But I was trapped by the original image and couldn't find my way out.  Sorry.)

Look, it's a tough one.  I continue to chew on it when it comes up, looking for a fuller understanding of what the 12&12 means.  I think a lot of AA literature was more prophetic than the authors knew, and in my experience, the things it may say which bug me often turn out to hold the most valuable ideas for my ongoing recovery.

Hope this helps, NBI.

Cheers!

 

Willingness and How To Develop an Open Mind -- which can then help you develop willingness.

In the book "Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions" (commonly referred to as the 12&12), it states on pg. 40, in the essay about the 3rd Step:

"... it appears that there are certain things which only the individual can do.  All by himself, and in the light of his own circumstances, he needs to develop the quality of willingness." 

A good sponsor can help motivate you, but motivation just makes being willing easier -- I would suggest that it is not actually willingness itself.

I have to say, on this point the 12&12 just sort of leaves you hanging -- so many other places in AA literature offer clear cut instructions as to not only what needs to be done (as in this particular case, the need for the individual to become willing) but also how to do it.

Involving the help of a Higher Power -- whatever that may mean to you -- is likely a critical component in this process -- and the discussion of the 3rd Step in the 12&12 is all about giving yourself over in that way.  But in reading this essay recently with someone, when we got to this paragraph they asked the very pointed question, "how, then, if I'm supposed to do it all on my own, am I supposed to 'develop the quality of willingness?'"

I started to make a flip answer along the lines of, "Well, you need to start doing things differently.  If you want different feelings you have to take different actions."  And yes, that's true -- very true, in fact.  To put it in Fischer Price terms, healthy actions bring healthy thoughts and feelings, sick actions ... you get it.

And over the years I've heard this truism expressed in a number of ways:  "Esteemable acts bring self esteem" is one of my favorites, for example.  You might even extrapolate this point out to a cornerstone of how AA itself heals me.  As I've both heard and shared in meetings, I have never been able to substantively change my thinking with other thoughts -- I've only been able to change my thinking with actions.  In fact, trying to change my problem thinking with more thinking is trying to use the problem to fix the problem -- not generally a successful strategy.

But it struck me that in some ways the willingness to do something often sort of precedes the new action.  And from what we just read in the 12&12, it sort of felt like the literature was, in this passage anyway, saying, "Ok, kid, this part is key.  Critical!  But you're on your own.  Good luck with that!"

So I gave it some thought, and sipped my coffee (ah, caffeine, boon to my inspiration!)

I think that for me, developing the quality of willingness has been predicated on developing an open mind.  I have to sort of be open to the idea that this new thing/behavior is going to work, before I become willing to give it a go.  It's not wholly a mental exercise of course, there is a "just do it" element, an "if you want what we've got, do what we did" thread running through this when we're new to AA.  But still, for me, an open mind has I think been hand-in-hand with my willingness.

Now, the good news is, developing an open mind is actually really easy.  There's only one word I've ever needed to do so, and even if I use the word grudgingly, or dripping with scorn, or laced with sarcasm, it still seems to work.

The word is:  Maybe.

If I try to embrace that word, however falteringly, it can allow a slender, needle-thin shaft of light to penetrate the tightly shuttered darkness of my closed mind.  (Oooh, how writerly!  Metaphors. Images. Fancy!)

Embarrassingly, in those times in my head, it can look like this:

Maybe I'll feel a little better if I try -- God knows, I couldn't feel much worse.

Maybe this won't completely suck.

Maybe at least one thing here can help me.

Maybe one of these people will say something useful.

(In that last one, the word "people" is not the word I probably used.)

If I can get to maybe, I have opened the door a crack.  And once I open the door a crack, I can reach through and grab hold of a tiny piece of willing.

From there, for me, that's how it builds.

My life has been transformed not with blinding white light experiences, although I believe some people have had such things.  No, for me, my life has been transformed most often by these tiny, infinitesimal, almost grudging, shifts in attitude and then eventually, consciousness.

Words shape my thoughts, my thoughts start my actions, then my actions reach back and change my feelings and my thinking.  It's a powerful process, and as with anything powerful, I can use it to help or harm.

But I don't have to be fully motivated at the outset.  When I start, I don't have to believe 100% in the power of this process to change me. 

To begin, I just have to get to "maybe."

Money makes the world go around -- some thoughts from Step 7

Step 7: "Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings."

  

From the book "Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions" (AA's 12&12), Step 7, pg. 71 -- (italics are direct quotes from the "12&12" and straight text is my sorting it out):

"Certainly no alcoholic, and surely no member of AA, wants to deprecate material achievement."

We're not saying that making money and buying stuff is bad.

"Nor do we enter into debate with the many who still so passionately cling to the belief that to satisfy our basic natural desires is the main object of life."

We're not here to argue with anyone over whether job/ambition/career/wealth is the most important thing to do with your life.

"But we are sure that no class of people in the world ever made a worse mess of trying to live by this formula than alcoholics.  For thousands of years we have been demanding more than our share of security, prestige, and romance.  When we seemed to be succeeding, we drank to dream still greater dreams.  When we were frustrated, even in part, we drank for oblivion.  Never was there enough of what we thought we wanted."

One thing that we're clear about is that alcoholics, when they make material or personal achievement the main goal of their lives, are a disaster, and become either greedy messes or spoiled brats having tantrums at the slightest thing, using all of it as an excuse for their behavior and their drinking.  Winning or losing, whatever we got, we wanted more. 

"In all these strivings, so many of them well-intentioned, our crippling handicap had been our lack of humility.  We had lacked the perspective to see that character building and spiritual values had to come first, and that material satisfactions were not the purpose of living." 

Often we were just trying to provide a good quality of life for ourselves and our families, but we couldn't see that for an alcoholic to be happy, for our lives to work successfully on every level, we had to make a spiritual practice and living by spiritual principles our first priority, before any material goals, even practical ones.

__________

Poverty is not ennobling.

Wealth is not degrading. 

AA doesn't suggest that money is bad, or ambition is wrong, or wanting to be successful in your chosen career -- even wanting to be the best in your chosen field --  is bad.  Pursuing those things can even be a celebration of the gifts you've been given and a testament to recovery.

BUT, when we pursue those things ahead of sobriety, or ahead of/instead of practicing spiritual principles in all our affairs (including our business and financial affairs) alcoholics tend to get twisted up inside, and generally that leads us back to a personal hell, both metaphorically and literally.

Or, more simply, placing ourselves and our ambitions ahead of all else eventually leads an alcoholic to self destruct -- even with millions in the bank.

(Though if you have millions in the bank when you self destruct you do tend to get a better quality casket.)

Hitting Bottom: The First Step and Grieving the loss of your good friend, Booze.

Allow me to pull out a few key points, in sequence, from the essay on the First Step in the book "Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions,":

"Who cares to admit complete defeat?  Practically no one, of course.  Every natural instinct cries out against the idea of personal powerlessness." -- pg. 21

"Alcohol ... bleeds us of all self-sufficiency and all will to resist its demands ... our bankruptcy as going human concerns is complete." -- pg. 21

"In AA's pioneering time, none but the most desperate cases could swallow and digest this unpalatable truth." -- pg. 22

"Many less desperate alcoholics tried AA, but did not succeed because they could not make the admission of hopelessness." -- pg. 23

"Alcoholics who still had their health, their families, their jobs, and even two cars in the garage, began to recognize their alcoholism." -- pg. 23

"Since Step One requires an admission that our lives had become unmanageable, how could people such as these take this Step?" -- pg. 23

"It was obviously necessary to raise the bottom the rest of us had hit to the point where it would hit them.  By going back in our own drinking histories, we could show that years before we realized it we were out of control, that our drinking was no mere habit, that it was indeed the beginning of a fatal progression." -- pg. 23

So it goes like this then:

It feels unnatural to admit that you are completely beaten by something -- even when you're diagnosed with a powerful illness (cancer, diabetes, alcoholism) we fight the admission.

The more I think about my own First Step, the more I listen to people in meetings talk about being powerless, about hitting bottom, about what brought them to AA and how they "worked" the First Step -- the more I believe that the famous Five Stages of Grief -- first proposed by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross:  Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance -- are a fair reflection of what someone first really confronting their alcoholism may go through.  After all, aren't we grieving the loss of an illusion?  The illusion that we can control our drinking?  Grieving the loss of our best friend, alcohol?  Grieving the loss of that most Western of ideals: The image of ourselves as unbeatable, as able, with enough grit and determination, to achieve any goal, overcome any obstacle?

But the fact is, if you believe that alcoholism is a disease, something that, just like any other disease, has powerful symptoms (a lack of "all will to resist its demands" for example) and, like any other disease, powerful, toxic, and even potentially fatal consequences ("bankruptcy as going human concerns" is not just poetic, it's chilling, when you consider what it can really mean), then you begin to acknowledge that on your own you cannot treat this illness, just like, on your own, you could not successfully treat a tumor or a broken bone.

And if you don't fully admit this state of hopelessness, then you won't be able to successfully treat your illness.  Just like being diagnosed with cancer and deciding that you know better than the doctors how to treat it, and will in fact do so completely on your own, with your own ideas as to how to go about it and get the best result.

Imagine the conversation one might have, explaining that to someone:

DUMPLING: I just found out that I have a spot of skin cancer.  It's pretty bad, they say.

GIBLET: Oh my God! That's terrible! What are you going to do? Surgery? Some kind of radiation? What? Do you need me to drive you anywhere? Oh my God!

DUMPLING: No, they recommended surgery to treat the cancer, yeah, but I'm just going to move to a different city.  I think the problem is where I live.

GIBLET: I'm sorry ... what?

DUMPLING:  Yeah, I figure if I move then this thing will just clear itself right up."

Insane, when framed in that way, but if you substitute "alcoholism" for "skin cancer" and put the dialog in someone's mind instead of aloud, it's not that far off from what some alcoholic's treatment strategy may be.  They're going to "figure out" how to "handle this on their own."

Thus the admission of hopelessness is the admission that on my own I am unable to treat the illness.  There is no hope of a successful treatment without help.

But what if I can catch the illness before it becomes malignant?  What if I can see the symptoms of a disease's progression and believe the evidence based on many other people's experience that my symptoms match theirs, but I am a bit earlier in the downward trajectory they suffered.

That's raising the bottom.  That's what can happen in Open AA meetings, or with an intervention, or even harsh consequences (jail, loss of a job, etc.)

That's why it is important for people in AA meetings to share their drinking history, to talk about their own experience in the downward spiral of real and chronic alcoholism.

Yet even with all that, one of the most profound symptoms of alcoholism is its ability to convince you that it does not exist, that your case is different, that it's not so serious...  the biggest symptom of alcoholism is its ability to get you to ignore the symptoms of alcoholism.

No wonder if you can't admit complete hopelessness and helplessness you can't get sober -- who could overcome that?