Every other time I’ve told this story I’ve told it in three parts: what it used to be like, what happened, what it’s like now. That’s how it’s supposed to be done, how you carry the message to the still suffering alcoholic, how I did it for years. But this time I’m just going talk about what happened. The what it used to be like part, the drinking, the drugging, it’s harrowing and funny, yes, but it’s a story as old as dope and we all know how it’s going to end.
So, what happened?
The short version, the way I almost always told it, is that one night I was seized from sleep as if a hand had reached through the night and yanked me upright and slapped my face. In the darkness my mind cleared and I had three choices: kill myself, check into a mental institution, or go to AA. Next day I took the third way and ever since then I’ve been, as they say in the Big Book, trudging the road to happy destiny.