As I talked with him, I could see that he was confused and scared. But he certainly seemed willing to take suggestions, so I was happy to share my experience, strength, and hope with him.
As I began describing my early days of sobriety, I could see it in his eyes: How does this guy know how I feel? he wondered. I described emotions I hadn’t been able to put a name to, the outright fear that somehow I would make a mistake and get drunk, and the terrible drunk dreams that had tormented me in early sobriety. His head nodded knowingly when I talked about my fear of running into people to whom I owed amends. Oh yes, I knew how to talk to him. And I knew I needed to use words that had weight and depth, speaking from my own experience and understanding.
What he didn’t realize, however, was that he was identifying with what I was saying—a key component in gaining anyone’s trust. An alcoholic simply will not listen to someone who hasn’t “been there and done that.”
How odd it is that we’re wired that way. I mean, if I ever needed brain surgery, I would insist on a doctor who had never had surgery on his own brain! But not so with alcoholics. We simply won’t listen to someone unless they’ve been through what we’ve been through.
As I shared a few simple suggestions, I could tell he was picking up everything I was laying down.
“Start your day by asking God to keep you sober.”
“If you’re feeling shaky, give me a call.”
“Take a break and write a short list of things you’re grateful for.”
“Read some spiritual literature.”
“Go for a walk and get some sunshine and fresh air.”
Remember not to let yourself get too hungry, angry, lonely, or tired.”
“And if you’ve stayed sober, thank God before you go to bed.”
Yes, recovery starts with simple suggestions. But in the beginning, my mind was so foggy I couldn’t possibly remember them all. So I reminded myself I shouldn’t overwhelm him with everything I’d learned all at once. In a few days, he might hear some other things:
“Start your day over if you need to. You might have some bad moments, but you’ll never have another bad day.”
“Have you prayed about this?”
“Remember that your sobriety is the most important gift you have right now.”
It won’t be long before he’ll be calling me, all excited. “You won’t believe what happened today—and I didn’t drink!”
But actually, his miracle will never depend on remembering or even following my suggestions. His miracle began the moment he became willing to put down the drink and cry out to God for help. That’s a plea no good parent can ignore—and our Father will instantly provide us with all the strength we need.
When we sincerely ask, and make up our mind that we’ll do whatever it takes, He lifts that merciless obsession for alcohol right out of us, and our recovery begins.
I know.
I’ve seen it.
A thousand times.
And my own recovery proves it.
