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This week I celebrated 40 years of sobriety.
In remembrance of when this journey began I’d like to share what I call my helplessly hoping.moment with you,
They are one person.
They are two alone.
They are three together.
They are for each other.
~ Lyrics from “Helplessly Hoping” by Crosby, Stills and Nash
After a terrible set of events in early 1985 I looked at myself in the mirror one morning and saw the unmistakable face of an alcoholic looking back.
A frightening experience.
I was lodged in a hole from which I could not escape.
My world was in total disarray and I had become my own worst enemy. A feeling of powerlessness hung over me like a dark cloud.
I knew without a shadow of doubt I was an alcoholic.
I’d reached the end of the line and within 24 hours I found myself at my first AA meeting.
It was on a Friday night at the Lutheran Student Center near the University of Washington.
In front of 13 perfect strangers, I heard myself say for the first time, “My name is Pat and I’m an alcoholic.”
Then each person around the table shared their unvarnished story of how they’d got to the program — all with riveting candor.
When it was my turn to share I stammered out my story with an honesty — wholly unfamiliar to me.
It was a seminal moment for me.
For the next two years —
- I went to a meeting every day
- I worked with a sponsor
- I labored through the 12 steps
Slowly my head cleared and I began to see some daylight between the no longer and the not yet.
I was finally living in the present.
It was a hard time, but a glorious one nonetheless. It felt so good to have gotten off my fantasy island where I was forever pretending to be someone I was not.
How satisfying it was to be just an ordinary guy.
Finally I could start building a new life from the stuff of reality.
It began with getting a new job. I soon secured the position of Development Director for Seattle Repertory Theatre, which entailed raising money for the Rep’s theatrical productions from Seattle’s philanthropic community.
Fundraising was something I profoundly understood. I’d spent years raising money for the Institute of Cultural Affairs in Chicago.
But there was a problem.
My way of fundraising involved becoming a chameleon, changing my persona to accommodate the different interests of donors.
My chameleon self — fed my alcoholic self — which was polar opposite to my sober self.
Something had to give.
How could I succeed in my new job without compromising my hard earned sobriety?
How could I let go of something so ingrained in me?
All my fears, doubts and inhibitions came to a head in preparing for a meeting with the Board of Directors, made up of 30 prominent business leaders and the creme de la creme of Seattle society.
How could I present my plan without shielding myself behind a facade?
Frankly, I didn’t know how so I lifted a prayer to the heavens.
When called on I went to the podium and looked out over the august body. And I just blurted out,
“My name is Pat and I’m an alcoholic.”
(For those unfamiliar with AA, anytime you introduce yourself in a meeting it’s traditional to claim the identity as alcoholic. So for the past 24 months I had spoken those words repeatedly.)
I had just inadvertently answered my own prayer.
In one sentence I laid waste to any idea of being something I was not.
Chameleon Pat was gone.
Problem solved!
I ditched my presentation, freelanced my talk, and shared a little of my story along with my plan for the year, all short and sweet.
I might add, the whole affair was more than a little hilarious and to my eternal surprise, very well received.
The Board loved the candor.
Everyone seemed to know someone who at some point stood where I now stood.
For me, it was like walking out from the shadows into the light of day.
“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.” The Serenity Prayer
Amen.
Just a thought…
Pat
How I remember the feeling of helplessly hoping forty years ago.
Here Crosby Stills and Nash give voice to that feeling: