Yesterday at the meeting one of the “humerous” men said that he had watched the “Lost Weekend” for the first time. He also pointed out that it was made in 1945 and that I had a part in it.
I remember that picture well. Several scenes stuck out in my mind, but nothing struck me more than the scenes in the barroom. Just the starkness of the pictures in black and white; the light shining off the bar; Milland sitting there and throwing back shots; the feeling of his desperation. Can I ever afford to forget that kind of moment?
That feeling of desperation. It doesn’t matter where it took place. All of us, who can claim to be victims of this disease, can recall moments just like that. That sudden need for a drink. Nothing could satisfy us at the moment but the relief only a drink could bring..
And, what is it that satisfies m! e today and brings relief? What is it that takes the worry and anxiety I sometimes feel away? For one thing, a meeting. Just being there is enough to take the edge off. Often, when the meeting is over and we stand up for the prayer, I know that I feel different. Just the interruption in the state I may be in is enough to break the spell.
Another is to make a phone call to someone I know and trust. Sometimes I don’t even have to say anything but to hear that friendly voice and know that things are going to be all right.
Or reading something from the literature. Sometimes. Listening to a recorded talk. And, of course, prayer and meditation. Something that requires me to get out of myself. Something that focuses my attention on the solution. And that’s what works. The solution.
When I was drinking I! was always looking for the solution to what was wrong. Of course the solution then, the only solution I knew, was a drink. And not just one. Today, the solution is 180 degrees away from that. It rests in that psychic change, which took place as a result of the steps given to us by those who went before and had found the answer to what was wrong.
But one thing I have to remember is that it’s just for today. Each day I awake I have to remember that it’s a new day and I have to resolve to follow through on seeking the solution for that day. Like the book says, I can’t rest on my laurels. There’s no coasting. The minute I think that, I’m edging toward a slippery slope. Alcohol is a subtle foe. Silent and invisible. It’s so easy to con myself into thinking that after all this time it’s no big deal. Everything is all right.
And, everything ! is all right if I follow directions given to me. If I follow the path laid out. Everyday.
I think I’ll do just that.