Chapter 2 “You need to find God, or you’re going to die!”

A chapter from my memoir in progress, "Light Seeker"

“Have you been drinking, Kassandra?” Asked my 4th therapist in a 3 year time span. “I’ve had a little bit.” Prepared for this, as it was not the first time I went to therapy under the influence, my therapist pointed at a big blue book on her bookshelf and told me I should grab it. “Alcoholics Anonymous. Why should I read that?” Sliding a meeting list across her desk, she responded “I think you could relate to what is written in the book, and a 12 step meeting could be good for you as well.” I laughed to myself. “I’m 17. I’m not an alcoholic.” She tried to explain to me that my age wasn’t a necessary criteria to be a drunk, but I was hearing no part of it. “This woman is out of her mind.” I thought. I took the meeting list and said I would maybe check one out sometime.

I understood at the time that I had an unhealthy relationship with alcohol, but I was young and still enjoyed being intoxicated. I loved getting wasted and wasn’t ready to stop in the slightest. I did however respect my therapist, so a couple weeks later I walked into an AA meeting hall and down a ramp covered in thin red carpet, my best friend by my side to support me. I’m not sure why I decided to go other than loyalty to my therapist, but I assume that some part of me knew I may need help with my drinking someday. Everyone was smoking cigarettes and playing pool before the meeting started. I could get down with this, smoke a ton of cigs and play pool–sign me up! 7PM hit and it was time to start the meeting. We all sat at a massive handmade circular wooden table, with burnt engravings covering most of its surface. Most of the writings were AA slogans like; “Keep it simple stupid. Let go and let God. The only requirement for membership is a desire to stop drinking…” The meeting attendees said the serenity prayer in union and then people started reading from laminated pieces of paper. I didn’t understand any of it. What did those readings mean? What is all of this? Everyone introduced themselves and proclaimed themselves as an alcoholic. “Hi, I’m Kass. This is my first meeting, and I guess I’m an alcoholic.” I said with a shaky voice and confused smile. I didn’t know what it meant to be an alcoholic. I knew that I was born without a “shut off button” as I called it. But any further definition was lost to me.

The meeting format was round robin. I only half listened to the shares of the other members. Some of them sounded miserable. “I don’t have a job, my kids were taken from me. I’m barely making it, but I didn’t drink today.” This seemed a common theme. “....but I didn't drink today.” I wasn’t finding much appeal from those who shared their sadness. Not drinking for one day didn’t seem like a big deal to me. Eventually it would mean everything. There were people that would share war stories and those caught my attention. “I drink like that! I’d love to party with them!” I would think to myself. And for a while that is what AA was to me. It was a place to go where I could chain smoke cigarettes indoors and hear others talk about how crappy their lives were. In a twisted way, it made me feel better that I wasn’t them. Although I drank like them, I wasn’t one of them. I had a home and wasn’t living under a bridge, a brown paper sack with a bottle in hand. I truly believed I was better than most of the people at that table. Such arrogance at such a young age. If I conceded that I was one of them then I couldn’t continue drinking like I had for so long. Once I realized years later that I was a true alcoholic it really did put a wedge between me and enjoying drinking, at least for a period of time. I could hear echoes of other sober people in my head. “Don’t quit before the miracle happens. Trust God, clean house, help others. I’m a grateful alcoholic.” They say in AA, “A belly full of beer and a head full of AA don’t mix.” They are right.

After some time the meeting hall became a sort of home for me. I still wasn’t convinced I was an alcoholic, but these people seemed to get me, and I was always looking for more friends. It took years for me to understand what AA actually was/did. It’s a lot more than just sitting in a meeting for an hour. I didn’t get that, and I doubt if I really tried to understand anything else. Over the next couple of years I became a more frequent attendee. I started forming relationships with the other members and even let some into the dark corners of my mind. I wasn’t staying sober, I didn’t really want to. Every time it was my turn to share at the meeting I would whine and moan about all of my problems. I liked the attention it got me. My victim mentality was so strong and meetings fed that monster. To extend a kind hand to my former self I will say this, I had so much going on at that time in my life, that I don’t fault myself for acting as I did and the attention I sought from anyone who would listen. Nobody walks into recovery because they are feeling great and life is sunshine and roses.

One of the group members was an older gentleman that was over 40 years sober. I would often approach him after meetings to get his advice. He was nice and helpful and offered whatever aid he could, but I never applied his wisdom. Again, I was in so much pain and seeking attention endlessly. One particular day stands out like no other. I had just spent my share time complaining and feeling sorry for myself. “Why can’t I stay sober? What am I doing wrong?” I plead. He came up to me after the meeting and with full intensity said to me “You need to find God or you are going to die!” “What is God? If he exists he has clearly forgotten about me.” I thought to myself. I remember thinking how dramatic that statement was. He may need God, but I don’t! At least not yet…

“Not yet.” Such a simple statement, but one of the most powerful I have ever come across. My consistent argument with other AA members was “I have never shot up. I’ve never been homeless. My family is still a part of my life.” Their response, “Not yet.” “These people don’t know me. I would never go as deep as they have! I’m better than that!” The idea that I was so different nearly killed me. I am the kind of woman that when dared, I will do almost anything. Tell me I can’t and I will! I can’t keep drinking-watch me. I need to find God or die-go to hell. I don’t have to stop because I can stop. If I can’t stop, then we have a problem. Reality check; I could never stop, that’s why I was 17 and in AA meetings. The illusion that I could quit whenever I wanted to was the exact thing that kept me drinking and using for so many years.

“Derrick, can I talk to you?” “What’s up Kass?” “I did it. I shot up.” I whispered to him in the coffee room at our meeting hall. I was in disbelief. He was right. They were all right. Addiction doesn’t pause, it doesn’t slow down. It goes full force, wrecking anything in its way. How did I get here? I injected drugs into my veins. What in the world is wrong with me!? “Not yet.” became a blinding reality.

I was only 20 when I shot up for the first time. Three years of AA and I was doing far worse than when I began attending meetings. I’m not blaming AA, it eventually saved my life. It wasn’t the program that wasn’t working for me, it was that I had no real desire to get and stay sober. I would go back and forth on it, especially if I had a really rough night or terrible hangover. I would want sobriety, then panic and pull back. My age always tripped me up too. I wasn’t even 21 yet, why the hell would I get sober now? I wanted to drink on my 21st birthday, be able to have champagne if I ever got married, and have fun and let loose at the bar. Here’s the thing though, none of that ever happened like I thought it would. I didn’t just drink on my 21st birthday, I smoked meth for the first time. I was lying that I was sober at my wedding, so I couldn't even drink there. And letting loose at the bar always turned into me getting way too drunk and sometimes causing a scene. I romanticized substances, but reality was far darker than my day dreams of using without issue.

You will hear in meetings that the only thing between you and a drink or a drug is your higher power. I took that literally. I would get a craving to get wasted and expected God to physically block me from buying substances, like my car breaking down or my phone breaking. And when he wouldn’t do that, I just assumed that he didn’t care, that I was destined to get high. I’ve since learned that isn’t how it works. Getting clean and staying that way is a lot of work. It is much more than divine interventions, which did happen to me at times. I used to get 24 hour sober chips from meetings again and again. And as soon as I got the urge to use, I would throw my most recent 24 hour chip out of my car window on my way to pick up. I could paint my walls with the amount of white chips I picked up and threw out. I wasn’t taking the program seriously. I was young and hadn’t lost anything yet. I didn’t understand the program, and wasn’t making much of an effort to try to grasp it.

The people I met at the meetings were patient with me and also firm. It was like this little family of drunks. I wasn’t done using yet, but some tiny part of me was screaming to get help before it got worse. I think that is what drove me to continue going to meetings. The meeting hall was a safe space for me. I was so emotionally dysregulated all the time, and as soon as my feet hit that thin red carpet it was like the outside world faded away. I could cry in meetings, I could be honest in meetings, it was like a sort of freedom from my mental anguish. My addiction continued to progress and my attendance at meetings dwindled. I don’t recall a lot about those first couple years in AA. But I will never forget what that man said to me about God. I had to find him or I would die.

With all my love, and until next time,

Kassandra