A Classy Kind of Drunk: Reflections on Sobriety and Growth
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Chapter 1: The Arrival at Alcoholics Anonymous
On the day I stumbled into the revered halls of Alcoholics Anonymous, I felt like a shipwreck, battered and bruised by my daily indulgence in martinis. I was, in all honesty, a sophisticated drunk. Among the numerous martini glasses I owned, one stood out—an exquisite piece I affectionately named Ruby. This ruby-red glass, inscribed with “Good to the last Drunk,” served as a stark reminder of how far I had fallen in my quiet, yet self-destructive quest.
At my initial meeting, I was greeted by a sage named Walter, who encouraged me to seek a higher power. When I jestingly asked if I could revere Ruby as long as she was filled with water, he merely nodded, sans laughter. Instead, he suggested I might consider breaking that glass over my head to awaken to my foolishness. I left that encounter with a newfound resentment toward him, but I realized some people simply don't appreciate humor.
It took me months of introspection before I truly pondered the concept of a higher power. I believed in God—wasn’t that sufficient? However, I questioned whether my faith was genuine or merely a façade to mask my ego and guilt for my narcissistic behavior.
Ah, Marcus Aurelius, how late I learned from your wisdom.
During that period, I had begun to explore Stoic Philosophy, which I found to be a wonderful companion to my AA journey. I often reflected on a quote from Marcus Aurelius that resonated deeply with me. Paraphrasing from my journal, I recalled that if someone perceives me as a terrible individual, that’s their issue, not mine. My duty is to maintain my integrity and respond with kindness, even to those who might loathe me.
These insights, although elusive during my days of heavy drinking, became invaluable as I began my recovery journey. If I had heeded the wise words of those around me and the timeless wisdom of the past, perhaps I wouldn’t have needed recovery in the first place.
A good person rises to face challenges; a fool retreats into slumber.
Without my daily dose of liquid relief, I found myself harboring resentment, convinced that the world was against me—even God seemed to conspire against me. This mindset persisted until I embarked on the daunting journey of self-examination, digging into the emotional debris I had spent years avoiding.
Once I cleared away the remnants of my past, I felt ready to welcome my higher power—God—back into my life. I recognized that, in the absence of a higher power to venerate, I had selfishly redirected all admiration inward, resulting in a cycle of failure.
Old Walter once shared this pearl of wisdom from Marcus Aurelius: “You have power over your mind—not outside events. Understand this, and you will discover strength.” Perhaps it was time to break Ruby over my head and acknowledge the time I had squandered.
This stoic insight became a guiding light, illuminating the inner strength I had yet to realize I possessed.
Thank you, Walter, my old friend. Rest in peace, brother.