It is often on these long and quiet nights, when the temp outside is cold and the wind howls that I find great comfort in the solitude of my home. Enclosed safely in it's walls I feel secure and at peace. I am free to roam about in silence. Not having to talk to anyone and see anyone I have to acknowledge. Here I am safe. It's quiet here tonight. The phone does not ring for me and there is no knock on the door or noise from the folks next door. It is all still.

It used to be when alone like this my mind would race into unknown and bewildering worlds. Wild imaginary places driven by all forms of insanity and insecurity. Noises could be heard that were not there. Things seen that in reality were not as they appeared. Tears would fall as the emotional pain would yeild to physical pain. The only way to find peace then was to gaze into the bottles bottom one more time and drink until it vanished. The edges of the bottle broken now cutting into the flesh of my arm as blood streamed down to the wrist and dripped of the fingers. In the car screaming down the parkway speedometer long since buried the engine devouring gas as I drank myself again into oblivion. Damn it man! why me? As if driving in a tunnel, the darkness sorrounds me and all that can be viewed is the headlights trying to keep up with the speed, nothing else mattered. Certainly death would be quick at hand if so much as a deer ran out in the road. The black out returns and the night is lost again and so with it the pain.

With the morning comes the headache, the pasted feeling in my mouth and my forearm stuck to my face. There is blood on the pillow and the sheets and in that moment a dash from the couch to look out the window at the car. Relief comes when all is undamaged. Pop the top on another beer and stagger to the shower washing off dried blood to reveal the gash on my arm. The memories return and the feelings there when that glass cut deeply into the flesh again are exposed.

It would get worse, much worse as time passed. For now it took more to dull the pain and sometimes less even as with each passing moment one never knew which drink would be the one that blacked me out. Sometimes as if in some kind of horor show bottle upon bottle would be emptied and the blackout would not come and the pain would remain. And the cry would come out, Why! Why are you doing this to me God! Why did you let that man molest me? Why did you let my father abandon me? Why did you let my wife have that affair? Why! oh why God did you take from me my best friend? Why did you have my son wish me dead? Why did you have all my friends and family turn their backs on me when I needed them most? Why did you let my girlfriend rip out my heart and stump on it? Why is it God that I am always messing up at work? Why God? Why did you not let that gun go off while I sat by the lake and begged you to take me? Why God will this alcohol not take away the pain anymore? What else is there God? WHAT!

God? please help me!

As if in a moment the answer came. That a light shown on the path I was to take. I stood at the edge of that path quite fearful yet certain that there was no other path. Had there been I might have taken it, but there wasn't. This was it. It seemed as though all that had prevented me from seeing this path had been pulled aside, beckoning me to move forward. Small steps taken at first. One step began and another followed by yet another. Looking back to see the past following me still I kept moving forward. That past once a dark and evil spirit lurking in my mind, the demons I called them fell to the wayside and as I welcomed each memory with my newfound peace and faith began to smile at them. They like the monsters under the bed could no longer hurt me, I was free. I no longer had to search into the bottomless pit of a bottle to find the answers but instead into the words and stories of my fellows that had gone before me so diligently. There I found again a God I could understand and in that a new strength flowed from within me. I look at the scar on my arm and remember and realize that too was a part of my journey here.

So this night I sit here in reflection of my former self. Thank you God for standing by me when I failed to see you or feel you. Thank you for protecting me from myself and allowing me the chance to see what it is that you wished for me to see. I walk outside and look up into the star covered sky and know that surely only God could create such a magificant sight. No man could recreate what He has created. I am humbled and powerless in such glory. In the womb of my mother God created a gift. Given his free will he travelled throughout this land and became a lost and drunken soul. Reborn in the womb of Alcoholics Anonymous this same lost and tortured soul has been given life. A life far beyond his dreams, blessed with spiritual wealth and emotional strength and enduring faith he walks this earth now a free man, happy and joyous and yes sober. Physically and emotionally.

Thank you God and thank you all in AA that have continued to walk the walk and not just talk the talk.