BOTTOMS UP!



"I've seen more bottoms than a proctologist!" " I've hit more bottoms than an obstetrician!" "I've picked more bottoms than a ..." Okay. Enough is enough. You get the idea. "Go ahead and go to a few meetings. It will look good in court", my father reasoned, not really thrilled over the thought I might belong there. So I blessed you people with my aura. Immediately I summarized that those people were liars and stupid. For they always boasted how wonderful life was and they constantly repeated themselves. I went backout. A few more close encounters of the deadly kind lured me back inside those doors again. And again. I have always considered myself an open-minded skeptic, which means I am not only a liar, but schizophrenic. I began to listen regardless. Finally, I came to the conclusion they were right. Especially the part about �being ready'. "I had to hit bottom" they sighed. Then one day an old man told how he had been to twenty two treatment centers. This disgusted me. How could he even admit this? Much less do it! I decided I will intentionally go out and find my bottom. Two years passed and there I was. Everyone and everything left me to my misery. I found hell, and it's name is Ultimate Loneliness. I remained sober for six years. Then I started doing things my way. If you want to make God laugh, just tell him your plans! It took a year of living a life without A.A. and more misery than any human could generate on one's self, but I finally gave in to the compulsion to drink and drug. During the three months of fiendish drinking and drugging, I became aware that the two treatment centers I visited were of no avail because I had not hit bottom. In my sick mind I decided then I would continue until my wife left (she did that instantly, damned Alanon!), my family turned their back, my credit was gone and every acceptable resource dried up. I was in the middle of drug-infested black ghetto and I was the only white man for miles. There are more caucasians in a Tarzan movie. I didn't want to be stuck there after I had nothing to offer the junkies or I would resort to unspeakable acts and be killed. I proceeded with this plan to the tee. Terrified I would die, regretting I lived. I knew there was hope. A.A. was waiting. Would I make it back? I did. Life is more wonderful than ever before. I have learned a powerful lesson, which God wishes me to pass on to the countless ones who use the A.A. "revolving door". Whether we decide to stare into our dishonest selves or not, WE CHOOSE OUR BOTTOMS! We determine, subconsciously at first, how much to lose, how far to go down, how much we suffer. Let's get the bottoms up!



My Life Among The Cannibals


I was able to track down a guy who had been my Chief when I was in the Navy stationed in Spain. I respected and looked up to the Chief, who tried his best to help me. I caused a lot of people grief and frustration during that time, including him. There's a lot I don't remember of what happened back when I was in the Navy because I was either drunk, stoned on hashish, and/or messed up on pain killers. I had a drinking problem before I joined the service and I started on the pain killers at my first school after boot camp. I'd just go the infirmary and the nurse would pass them out like candy. At my first duty staion in Spain, I had surgery on my feet and got strung out on Percodan big time. I was pretty much restless, irritable, and discontent after that. I thought I was crazy, when in fact I was a alcoholic and a drug addict. After I got out, things went downhill for 9 more years. My drinking and drugging got much worse. I went to jail on DUI's and possession charges several times. I did IV drugs and ate as many pills as I could get my hands on. I couldn't keep a job for long. Usually I'd quit before I was fired, but sometimes I wasn't quick enough. I checked myself into psychiatric hospitals several times and was committed by my boss once. The funny thing is, I knew I had an alcohol and drug problem, but I thought my root problem was that I was insane. I preferred being insane over quitting alcohol and drugs. In March 1990 I found myself in four-way restraints in a padded cell (again) in a psych ward after my umpteenth suicide attempt. A thought hit my fogged brain out of nowhere that maybe if I were to get sober and cleaned up for a while, the shrinks could work some of their magic. That's how I wound up in treatment. I wish I could say that I never had any more trouble after that, but I can't. After 10 days in treatment I got my hands on a bunch of pills and took them all trying to end it. I ended up in intensive care with my stomach pumped and going through 4 days of hemo-dialysis to clean my blood. But something changed in me while in intensive care. I can't tell you what it was, but I left there with a sincere desire to live. It took another year and a half before I had what I hope is my last drink or drug. Since then I have truly been blessed. I'm not religious, but I have come to believe in a divine power that can solve my problems. He's worked miracle after miracle in my life since I quit trying to run the show. I think it took all of what I went through to get me to the point where I was teachable. I had to learn some humility. I still have a lot more to learn, but, as they say, "progress, not perfection." The Chief and I talked for over an hour. He reminded me what I was like back then and what a change there seemed to have been. I used to think back to those days and wince when I remembered the things I did. Now I look back and smile.

Danny Strickland
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http://www.vicksburg.com/~danno

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