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The disease of alcoholism brought my husband and me to a point where it became difficult to live together under one roof. We had been staying away from each other for the last ten months when we agreed to meet on the anniversary of our marriage.
Together we paid obeisance at our holy place. He offered to drop me home. He had brought a bouquet for me. I received it and sat in his car. As the car moved, a brand new bottle of whiskey rolled into my feet.
In an instant, my sanity flew away. I left the bouquet, said some nasty words (I am very good at it), and left. He, too, reacted. He threw the flowers on the road, and drove away hurt and mad.
Soon I felt very uncomfortable. One look within myself and remorse gripped me. I had forgotten my First Step, had lashed at my husband, and had ruined the lovely moments God had given us. The awareness of the presence of the bottle had become more powerful than the presence of my Higher Power. This was my insanity, my disease.
I remembered having read somewhere, “Do not look where you’ve fallen, look at where you slipped,” and that I could “after a fall, pick myself up, dust myself off, and move on.” So I moved on “One Day at a Time.” Occasionally, I saw him at A.A. meetings.
I am fortunate that another anniversary came. I was given the opportunity to make amends. I took flowers to my husband. He had been ailing for quite some time.
As he opened the door, a look of pleasant surprise and moist eyes welcomed the flowers. I felt I was greeting the most important man in the world. We stood in a warm embrace and parted after we said the Serenity Prayer together. Those divine moments were my reward of the day.
I will not have any more “happy anniversaries,” for he passed away a month later. Thanks to the tools of this program, I could realize my part in the harms done.
Staying busy through service allows me to make the best of what I have. I feel grateful for the sharings and the literature that tells me I am not alone. The pain of having lost a loved one is intense, but regular attendance at meetings keeps reminding me that suffering is indeed optional.
By Anonymous, India
The Forum, March 2009
© Al-Anon Family Group Headquarters, Inc. 2009. All Rights Reserved.
I didn’t believe it when my mother first told me she was an alcoholic. My image of an “alcoholic” was an old man stumbling down the road in dirty clothes with a brown bag covering a bottle of something in his hand—the town drunk.
My mom told me she was going to A.A. One day, she approached me and said there was a place where teenagers could meet called Alateen. She asked if I wanted to go. I said “no.”
One day my mom walked up to me and said, “I got you a scholarship to an Alateen conference and you’re going. I don’t know if you need a break from me or I need a break from you, but you’re going!”
After packing, my mother drove me to a church and escorted me to a room in the basement. She gave me a hug and a look of reassurance. “You’ll be alright!” she said and left.
In the room, I saw kids talking and smiling. Then it was time to start the meeting. Scared, I sat in a chair with a pole between these people and me, just in case something happened.
I found myself thinking these people were a little strange, and I really couldn’t grasp the language they were all speaking. After the meeting, we held hands, said a prayer, and put away our chairs.
I didn’t say much because I felt nervous. Everyone seemed very kind and acted pleasant to each other and to me.
When we arrived at the member’s house, each of us was given our own bed. Mine was really comfortable, and I felt more relaxed. I slept well, and morning came quickly.
At the convention the next morning we sang songs and heard stories about “cold pricklies” and “warm fuzzies.”
There were different meetings we could choose to attend. It was my choice—no one told me what I had to do. That weekend, I got a crash course in Alateen.
I made tons of friends, felt safe, talked to peers who had the same problems, and found out that I was not alone. Until then I had been isolating myself from the world. I learned so much about alcoholism.
After the closing meeting, hugs were given, t-shirts were signed, and phone numbers were exchanged. A lot of weight was lifted. Many long-lasting friendships were made.
I felt exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. Hope was not lost. It had just begun.
By Lorraine, New York
T
he Forum, January 2009
© Al-Anon Family Group Headquarters, Inc. 2008. All Rights Reserved.
 I was ‘crazy’ in love - and couldn’t blame the drinker
I came to understand and accept my feelings
As an outsider, I couldn’t figure out Al-Anon members
Al-Anon - after everything else failed
At mid-life I found self-knowledge
How I’ve changed since my first meeting
From anger to serenity
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