There's a party in this house!

Apparently AA's party like crazy. I guess after years of throwing drunken bashes the need for a gathering never fades.

First Friday, the marble meeting, had over a hundred people gathered around listening to a fabulous gay man speak about his past and his journey into and through AA. He started with his suicide attempt, and it struck me: I was wasted when I tried to kill myself. I always told myself I'd never do that; my mom tried too often for me to ever want to cause another person that kind of pain. But I got wasted, and one comment put me over the edge. I put myself in a position to hear bad news that cut me to the heart. So I cut myself to make it feel better. Did it work? Hell no. I felt worse. I'd just done what I promised never to do. I hurt my dad, my boyfriend, my friends. And I was drunk still when the doctor sewed me up with no anesthesia. "I never want to see you back here," she said. And so every time I was drunk and looking at that razor, thinking that might make it all better, I thought twice.

Drinking, I suppose, is like that razor. It cuts you up, cuts your life into pieces. Makes everything unmanageable. Just that one drink could lead me to the brink of insanity, again. Just one.

Saturday nights' talent show and speaker meeting brought more to me, through the fellowship of an amazing group of women and men. These people welcomed me with open arms, fed me, even told me it was ok to have a second cookie. "Alcohol is sugar," they reminded me. "You may just be trying to replace it." Oh, huh, that makes sense. I've been eating more ice cream than ever and cookies like it's going out of style.

And the amazing women. I've met so many strong and intelligent women who I never would have thought could have problems. They are so smart! And yet, alcohol took them over, too. I guess you don't have to be stupid to get yourself in this position; to make yourself want to get dumber. Maybe it's the smart folks, the smartasses who take to drink. Just maybe.

I feel like I've been invited into a different life. Adam called it stepping through the looking glass, which is really funny since my next three planned tattoos all have something to do with Alice. I was supposed to get one this week: Alice pushing through the looking glass. Broke ass be damned, maybe I should get it next weekend. A commitment on my back: I have broken through the looking glass, and I don't want to look back.