Driving myself to the brink

Wow, I am a hot mess. I knew I shouldn't have opened my mouth. I was sitting there feeling panic coming on; hands shaking, heart pounding, stomach acids churning. But I did it anyway. We had just read a story in the Big Book called Crossing the River of Denial, about a woman who realized there was no point in continuing to drink. In there, she says, after losing her job, "thank goodness I was sober or I probably would have killed myself."

So I opened up to the group. "I lost my job four months into my sobriety, and like this woman, I think I would be dead if I weren't sober." I was shaking, my eye twitching, my heart pounding. I don't know what else I said, but I could barely get anything sensible out. I made it short.

This seems to happen every time I open my mouth and talk about anything except how much something costs or whether the newspaper was delivered this morning. I can do work in the store, but I can't talk to anyone else about anything else without bringing on a panic attack.

On the drive home, I knew I shouldn't be driving. I could feel the car expanding around me: the cockpit was becoming large enough for a giant. It was just me and the steering wheel. Everything else was moving farther away from me. Then a bus pulled up behind me and passed to the left. It was so big! The bus just overwhelmed me even in my gigantic car.

I made it to the parking garage. Oh, God, now I have to back in to the tight space. Breathe, breathe. I did it. I shouldn't have been driving. I wanted to stay for another meeting but my dad needs the car. I feel like I should just take another Zyprexa and call it a night.

Tell me a story

I know there are a lot of people who hate when people talk at meetings and ramble on for a long time, but I love it. People always have something interesting to say even when they super ramble.

Today, this guy came in and talked about how he was an arrogant ass who didn't care about anything. He's got 6 kids, and all but one has been in jail. He claims to be a warrior. But he admitted that at his bottom, he dropped to his knees and cried to God, help me. And now, he's a softy. I thought that was a nice story. A man so taken over by the disease that he didn't care about anything and through the power of AA and his higher power, he was able to gain a life of some sort.

People's stories are fascinating. I love to listen to their "experience, strength, and hope." I even love to read the stories in the Big Book and find the things that I can identify with. For me, it's the people who make this program.