by clicking the arrows at the side of the page, or by using the toolbar.
by clicking anywhere on the page.
by dragging the page around when zoomed in.
by clicking anywhere on the page when zoomed in.
web sites or send emails by clicking on hyperlinks.
Email this page to a friend
Search this issue
Index - jump to page or section
Archive - view past issues
Grapevine : August 2011
spark followed by hard work and careful planning. I found this to be very similar to a business model for a new product: You start with an idea, create a working plan, get some good, outside consulting and build a com- pany from the ground up. Rebuilding my life was just like that. Over the last ten years of my drinking, I had dragged myself into recovery several times. Sometimes willingly, sometimes kicking and screaming. Invariably, I'd get a little of that new sobriety stardust on me, and then figure the work was over. I felt great, my problems were sorting them- selves out nicely, and then I'd be shocked to find myself drinking and drugging just as hard as before. The last time that I got sober, on July 14, 1998, it was different. Not the intent. Nor the desire. Certainly the necessity was the same. Yes, I had a daughter on the way and the end of my twenties were on the horizon, but I be- lieve it was a confluence of things which worked together and caused me to set out a plan and work it feverishly. After years of reck- lessness and chaos, I was all business. Church, group therapy, 90 AA meetings in 90 days, a sponsor, spiritual adviser, individual counseling with a neuro-psychiatrist who specialized in addiction medi- cine, family therapy, volunteer work ... I even went abroad, delivering medi- cal care to Haiti. With a full-time job like recovery, who had time to drink? Then the baby came. As a hardcore drinker and drug- user whose life had been shredded over and over again, I felt like I need- ed the big business attitude of intense recovery to get it inside my head. It meant an entirely new way of life: 100 percent, 24/7. I pored over recovery books and magazines, hung out with sober people I knew I could trust and began a meditation practice. Oh, and did I mention meetings? Meetings, meetings, meetings and I didn't forget about service either. Brick by brick, I was building a truly solid foundation upon which to set a completely new life. I had no idea how strong it would have to be. Recovery does not mean that you will not make mistakes. During the first two years of my rigorous recovery process in AA, I worked for a dermatologist. I had lost my PA (Physician Assistant) license in another state, but the medical board permitted my work as a surgical as- sistant. In no time at all, I was ignoring the first tenet of recovery: Honesty. I wanted to put all the pieces of 33