You Can Get Off at Any Floor
Vicki M., Daphne, AL

At the age of 32, and after 14 years of marriage, I awakened one morning and found myself divorced, alone, and on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I had three out-of-control children and no way to support them. I had no self-confidence or self-respect. And although I felt numb at the time, I was consumed with fear and anger. Eight years later, I walked into Alcoholics Anonymous--not because I was an alcoholic, but because my life was totally unmanageable.

I started drinking in high school. My boyfriend played in a band. I was the "drummer's girl"-- the center of attention and the envy of all the other girls who followed the band. When the band played, I drank. When the band finished playing, I drank some more. I prided myself on the fact that I could drink as much as or more than all of them, even the older boys.

Just out of high school, I met the man who would become the father of my three children. He told me right up front, "No woman is ever going to tell me what to do." His defiant need for control was attractive to me; I interpreted it as strength. I married him five months later. And before long, his control consumed me.

I became a prisoner within my own body. I gave up myself and learned to be whoever he wanted me to be. He frightened me with his manipulations--verbal abuse interspersed with well-timed, deafening silence. I responded by taking on his thoughts and his beliefs as my own. Soon, I could not differentiate between what was true and what was false. I tuned into his feelings so completely that my mind became one with his. I had no "me."

At that point in my life, alcohol was not an issue. Six packs of beer sat in the refrigerator for months. I had traded one obsession for another: My family, especially my husband, became my obsession. My mind worked overtime making sure my husband was pleased. If he was in a quiet mood, I ran around behind him asking, "What's the matter? What did I do wrong?" I made certain the kids were good and quiet. I made sure that everything was in order, in hopes that "Daddy" would be in a good mood. If he was unhappy, I felt responsible. If he was happy, so was I. When he smiled, I knew that I must have done something right, and I felt deeply relieved.

Then I started hearing the rumors. He was having an affair with his young secretary. I confronted him. He denied it. I knew in my heart that he was lying, but I allowed denial to cushion my pain until I could handle it.

Before long, he told me that he wanted a divorce. I felt devastated. I cried all the time. I lost weight. I didn’t want to live. To cope with the pain, I started drinking again.

The divorce turned into more of the same for me. Even then, I wanted my husband to be happy. So I gave him everything except the children. I kept nothing for myself. How symbolic! I put on a brave front and told everyone that I was fine, and I drank more heavily.

Things didn't get better. I felt as though people were always watching me. Then my oldest son began getting into trouble. Finally, I decided to leave that part of my life behind, and I took the kids and moved back to my old hometown, where I knew I would find love and support.

My children hated the move. My two oldest reacted by turning rude, unruly, and ultimately unbearable. I lost all control over them. To cope, I turned to what worked: I drank more. And I disappeared emotionally.

When I started dating again, I only dated men who drank like I did. And of course, my drinking progressed to another level. I never questioned this behavior; it seemed natural to me.

Then, quite by accident, I started dating a man who did not abuse alcohol. One day he said to me, "You sure drink a lot." The comment surprised me because I had cut back on the amount I was drinking, partly because he didn't drink the way my other men friends did. But to accommodate his feelings and get his approval, I changed my behavior. I didn't drink less; I just drank differently. I downed five or six beers before he got to my house, put the cans in a brown paper sack, and hid the sack in the outside garbage can. Then I opened a beer right after he arrived and drank four or five more while he was there. He never knew about the other beers and so approved of my new drinking behavior. I continued this routine for months.

Eventually, my behavior started getting to me. I questioned why I felt like I had to hide the empty beer cans and lie about my drinking. And I heard a commercial that stuck in my head. It said, "If you think you drink too much, you probably do."

Then one day, again quite by accident, I was talking to a friend who I knew was in Alcoholics Anonymous. I asked her if she thought I drank too much. She said she couldn’t answer that question, but she invited me to go to an AA meeting with her. I completely surprised myself and agreed to go.

The next day--June 15, 1989--I walked into my first AA meeting. I listened while other people told their stories, and I heard the differences between them and me. I had not gotten the DUI's. I had not lost my children. I had not lost my job. I didn’t drink in the morning. I didn’t even drink every day. I had not experienced any of those things. And that confirmed it: I was not an alcoholic. All I wanted was for my life to get better. When given the chance to speak, I said, "My name is Vicki, and I am not an alcoholic. I may drink too much, too often, and for the wrong reasons, but I have all my teeth and I do not live under the bridge."

At the end of the meeting, the chairman offered a beginner's chip to anyone who wanted one. My friend elbowed me, nodded her head "Yes," and before I knew what was happening, the old people pleaser--me--walked up and took a chip. That moment was the beginning of my road to recovery. Without intending to, I committed myself to stay sober "one day at a time."

After the meeting, an older lady approached me and asked me if I really wanted my life to get better? I said I did. She told about me the Third Tradition--that the only requirement for membership in AA is a desire to stop drinking. She said if I would attend 90 meetings in 90 days, get a sponsor, read the Big Book, and call her every day, she guaranteed that my life would get better. Again, my need for approval saved my life. I agreed.

Not only did I go to a meeting every day, I sometimes went to two or three. I heard things I could relate to. My denial started cracking. And on day 27, I finally said, "My name is Vicki, and I'm an alcoholic." I didn’t really fully believe that statement for another year, but I began acting as if I did. I started doing the things that people suggested I do in order to stay sober.

I learned to listen to the similarities between them and me. I looked at how I felt while drinking instead of just what I did while drinking. I heard a man share his feelings of loneliness while sitting in a jail cell, and I had a powerful moment of clarity. I saw that even though I had never been to jail, I had felt that same loneliness while sitting on my couch in my living room. From that point forward, I knew that I belonged in this strange group of people.

I began to feel again and to share my feelings. And I learned that they were just my feelings, neither right nor wrong. I regained some of my self-esteem. I began to laugh. I began to have my own opinions, even if they were different from the opinions of others.

As sober days turned into sober weeks, and sober weeks turned into sober months, my life just kept getting better. I felt blessed. I had "accidentally" found a way of living that was teaching me how to be me and how to like me. I was actually walking out of and away from the prison that I had locked myself into for so many years.

One of the most important things I heard in AA was this: "The elevator goes up and down, and you can get off at any floor with your drinking; you do not have to hit the bottom floor and lose everything before realizing that you are an alcoholic." More than any other, that idea kept me coming back.

I saw people come into AA and then go back out and drink some more. When (and sometimes if) they made it back, I listened closely to their tales of what had happened while they were drinking again. One had an accident that killed someone. Others lost their spouses, their kids, their homes, and their jobs. I did not want those things to happen to me. So I made the decision to stop my elevator, and I got off.

On June 15, 2000, by the grace of God, I will be sober eleven years. And at eleven years, I know who I am. I know what I feel. And I do not need the approval of other people to feel good about myself. I like who I am today. I feel proud of who I have become.

I also know today that God is deep within me. God directs my thinking. And God has given me the privilege of working with newcomers in AA, which helps me maintain my sobriety. It helps me focus on others instead of focusing on me. That is one of the keys to my happiness because today I know that alcohol was never my problem. I was always my problem.

I had no idea what I was getting into when I agreed to go to that first AA meeting on June 15, 1989. By all rights, I should not have stayed. I'm so grateful that God kept me coming back to the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous long enough for the miracle to happen to me. The fellowship and the 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous have taught me how to live life with peace and serenity. That I once relied on alcohol for my serenity now seems ironic, and even kind of funny.

Had you asked to write down what I wanted out of life before I found AA, I would have cut myself short, because my life today is better than I could have imagined back then. My relationships with my children, my parents, and my friends have been rebuilt with love, trust, and respect. People ask me for my opinion today. And I answer them--honestly and directly. That is far cry from who I used to be.

Today I can honestly say, "My name is Vicki, and I'm a grateful alcoholic."
 

Tilex Changed My Life

When I walked through the doors of Alcoholics Anonymous, I had no idea my life was about to change. I knew that I felt unhappy and that I drank too much and too often and for the wrong reasons. But…"An alcoholic? Not me—no way!"

I heard something that first day, though. Those people—those members of AA—made me a promise. They said, "If you come to meetings and just not drink, your life will get better." Even though I didn’t grasp the significance of that simple suggestion, I did hear it, and it didn’t scare me away. Despite myself, I decided to give it a whirl. I stopped drinking and started going to meetings.

Days without a drink turned into weeks without a drink. Weeks turned into months. And in what felt like the blink of an eye, I had a full year of continuous sobriety. Not only that, but also the promise had come true. My life was better. I even saw a glimpse of internal peace.

It wasn’t all fun and games, though. Throughout that year I had plenty of living problems. Whenever I felt desperate to solve those problems, I asked my sponsor and/or my AA friends for help. Invariably, they would say, "Work your steps." I would answer back, "What do the steps have to do with the things in my life that are making me feel crazy? I know now that I’m powerless over alcohol, but what does that have to do with my ‘living problems?’"

Then one day when I was nine months sober, I was cleaning my bathtub with Tilex—the bathroom mildew cleaner. It was the same product that I had used to clean my bathtub for eight years without ever having a problem. This time, though, it turned the whole tub orange—about the color of rust. I tried repeatedly to remove the stain, but it wouldn’t budge. I scrubbed; I used Clorox; I did everything I could think of. Nothing helped. I had an orange bathtub.

Finally, out of desperation, I called the 1-800 number on the back of the Tilex bottle. The lady who answered told me that the tub must be old and porous. She said not to use Tilex on that tub again and that if I did, the same thing would happen. She suggested that I buy Clorox 2, pour it on, wait 15 minutes, and then wipe it off. I followed her instructions, and voila—the stain disappeared.

When it came time to clean my bathroom again, I picked up my Tilex, told myself that it wouldn't happen again, and went about cleaning my tub just as I had before. Well, as you might expect, the results were the same—an orange bathtub! I used the Clorox 2 remedy again, and it worked again.

The third time around, I decided to change my approach. This time, instead of saturating the entire tub with Tilex, I lightly sprayed it on a few selected spots. What do you think happened? Yes, you’re right; those spots turned the same color orange as I had seen on the previous two occasions. Nothing had changed.

At this point, it sank in, and I got it. I really couldn’t use Tilex on that bathtub. If I did, it would turn orange! Then I recalled the definition of insanity that I had heard many times in AA: "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over, and each time expecting different results."

Then another realization hit me, and it hit me pretty hard. I had been doing the same thing with my oldest son that I was doing with the Tilex. I had been protecting and rescuing him by paying his bills, covering for him, bailing him out of trouble, etc., over and over and over again, each time expecting different results—expecting him to change his behavior.

My newly discovered insights, though certainly not earth-shattering to a normal person, made a huge impact on me. Tilex will not work on my tub just because I keep trying to make it so. My son will not change his behavior just because I keep trying the same methods to make him see the light. I left the orange in my tub for two full weeks to remind me of my insanity. Then I cleaned it with Clorox 2 and never used Tilex again.

Now, please bear with me while I digress for a moment. During this same period of my life, I was dating a man who did not love me the way I wanted him to. To punish him for that, I ended the relationship. Then to see if he had learned his lesson, I took him back. When I saw that he still didn’t love me the way I wanted him to, I ended the relationship. Then to see if he had changed, I took him back. When I saw that he still didn’t love me the way I wanted…. Well, you get the picture.

Then Man #2 came into my life, and as soon as he did, Man #1 (who had cycled back into my life for the umpteenth time) suddenly loved me to death. And even though a part of me relished the tussle between Man #1 and Man #2 to win my heart, another part of me felt bewildered. I liked #2 a lot, but I felt tremendously bound to #1 through the history of our struggle to create and maintain a relationship.

I let the confusion build and build until one night it came crashing down on me. I didn't know what to do. I felt desperate and feared for my sobriety and my sanity. I called everyone that I knew in AA, but I didn't find anyone at home. So I started dialing the numbers of AA members whom I didn’t even know.

Finally, I found another alcoholic to talk to. After I blurted out my story, she asked me that same question that AA’s always seem to ask at just the right moment: "Have you worked this through your steps?"

Now completely at my wits’ end, I yelled into the phone, "What in the world do these men have to do with alcohol? These men are my problem-not alcohol!" Very calmly, she replied, "Dear, you are powerless over these men, and your life is unmanageable. That is Step 1. Now go work Steps 2 and 3, and then take the action in 4 through 9. Then you will have your solution."

I was not convinced, but because I felt desperate, I was willing. I walked into my quiet bedroom, sat on my bed, looked out my bedroom window, and said to myself, "Okay… Step 2 promised me a return to sanity, and Step 3 encouraged me to turn my will and life over to God." Once I got that far, I decided that what I needed to do was ask God to give me the answer to the question that was making me feel insane. So I prayed, "God, what do you want me to do? Which man do I choose?"

I waited, and I waited. And I waited some more. And then I heard it—loud and clear: "TILEX."

Feeling confused and impatient, I sprang to the window and yelled at God, "What does Tilex have to do with these men?" And then suddenly it hit me, and I knew. Just as I had with the Tilex on my bathtub and my rescuing behavior with my son, I had been doing the same thing over and over again, each time expecting different results, with Man #1. I realized that my pattern of starting and stopping and starting and stopping the relationship with Man #1 represented my insanity. And I had to let him go.

Months later, as my new relationship with Man #2 began to bloom, I felt that God had, indeed, restored me to sanity—at least in this small aspect of my life. And I felt tremendously grateful. I finally understood what it meant to work the Steps in all my affairs. More importantly, I learned to listen to God, whom I have come to believe is "deep within."

Well, I kept practicing what I had learned, and my life kept getting better. Then one day the thought popped into my head that I wanted an official Tilex bottle label to remind me of how God had worked in my life. I picked up the phone and called the company’s 1-800 number. I asked the woman who answered the phone if they would please mail me a new Tilex label. The woman, who identified herself as Maryanne, asked me if it was for a school project. I told her "No" and explained that it was a long story. She asked me to tell her about it, so I did. I told her the whole story.

She listened patiently while I told her about the orange tub, the Clorox 2, my son, my relationships with the two men, and my insight into my insanity. I shared with her about my recovery and how I had learned to work through this particular problem, as well as subsequent ones, with the Steps.

When I finally finished my story, she said something that brought chill bumps to my skin and tears to my eyes. She said, "Vicki, my name is Maryanne, and I'm an alcoholic. I have been asking God for help all morning, and I'll be darned if he didn't bring me another alcoholic." It was at that moment that I knew there were no mistakes in God's world.

As she promised she would, Maryanne sent me several different labels. I immediately framed my favorite one and hung it in a special place in my home. Today, whenever the framed label catches my eye, I recall what I learned through my Tilex experience, and I think of God…and Maryanne…and I smile.