Category: Recovery From Addictions

The Saturday night of the International AA Convention that happens once every five years is always reserved for an old-timers meeting. If you happened to not know what qualifies someone as an old-timer in AA, currently it’s 50 years or greater of continuous sobriety. And the way the Saturday evening meeting works is that anyone with this amount of clean time or more places their name in a basket, of which 12 are randomly chosen to speak in front of the 50,000+ people in attendance. The kicker is that they then only get 5 minutes to share their experience, strength, and hope with everyone.

Many of the people I spoke with at the conference told me they felt that the five minutes was too little of time to really say anything of importance. I frankly have to disagree, solely because of what my first sponsor taught me. She showed me how a very strong recovery message could easily be relayed in five minutes or less and that anyone who spoke for longer than that was most likely only speaking from ego.

So as I watched each of the old-timers be called to the podium one by one on Saturday night at the very large Georgia Dome meeting, I saw how most did just that and completely struggled to keep their message under the five minute limit. For some it was due to them trying to tell their entire journey to sobriety, while for others, it was due to them telling jokes and stories. One or two though did keep to the time limit and in all honesty, it was their shares that are the ones I remember the most.

When the meeting was over, I spent some time pondering what I might say if I were an old-timer myself and was called up to the podium to speak in front of 50,000+ individuals for 300 seconds. After much deliberation, this is what I came up with:

“Hello family, my name is Andrew and I’m a grateful recovering alcoholic. I truly believe there’s only one reason why I’m standing here before all of you and why I’ve been able to remain clean and sober for all these years. It’s what’s the 12 Steps guided me to and that’s an unconditionally loving God. Today I can see that it’s God who helped me make it through all those years I grew up in an alcoholic family. It’s God who helped me make it through all the times I was bullied at school. It’s God who helped me make it through being molested as a young boy by a 45-year-old man. It’s God who helped me make it through each of the years I drank and drugged so excessively. It’s God who helped me come to terms with my sexuality. It’s God who helped me make it through my father’s suicide and my mother’s drunken and deadly fall down the stairs. It’s God who helped me make it through more than a decade of being a dry drunk and falling prey to countless other addictions. It’s God who helped me get through the loss of my business and financial collapse. It’s God who helped me endure all the years I battled very serious health issues. And it’s most definitely God who eventually led me into the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous. I’m so grateful to AA because it’s the 12 Steps that helped me cultivate a much deeper relationship to my Higher Power and heal from all of these things that created so much misery for much of my life. And it’s because of God and the 12 Steps that I know today there is not a single person, place, or thing out there in the world that will ever bring me true happiness. That has only ever come to me through three things: Serving my Higher Power, Living the 12 Steps, and Doing my best to love each and every one of you unconditionally. If it weren’t for those three things, I’m quite positive I wouldn’t be standing here right now doing my best to pass on a little of my own experience, strength, and hope to all of you. Thank you everyone for listening, I love you all…” 

So while it remains to be seen whether I’ll ever be given a chance one day to speak for five minutes to 50,000+ people, I can say that if I am, as an old-timer or something else altogether, that my message will be one that gives total credit to the only thing that saved me from a total life of despair and loneliness and that’s God…

Peace, love, light, and joy,

Andrew Arthur Dawson

I always find it interesting how God works in so many mysterious ways. Being at a 65,000+ attended AA convention, I’m sure you’d probably agree that it would be next to impossible to run into the one person I was most afraid to see. But God saw fit to do just that on the second day I was there in downtown Atlanta, amongst thousands of other people.

If you read the entry I wrote a few weeks ago about the two fears (https://thetwelfthstep.com/2015/06/23/two-fears-about-the-upcoming-2015-aa-international-convention/) I had in going to this convention, then you already know whom I’m talking about. But for those who didn’t, I speaking of the closest friend I’ve ever had in life, the same one who was originally meant to attend this convention with me.

When I moved away from Massachusetts, he didn’t handle it so well, and within a few months began to pull away and distance himself from our long-standing friendship. Eventually, he stopped staying in touch altogether and opted to attend the convention with some other friends instead. At first I became angry, but eventually was able to let it go when I realized it wasn’t because of anything I did, as it was something he had to resolve within himself. Little did I know that God was going to have all that take place during a very heavily attended AA convention in downtown Atlanta, Georgia?

On the day this actually happened, I was with my traveling companion, a woman from my recovery life back in the Boston area. We had planned on attending an afternoon meeting together, but were unable to do so when we discovered each of the ones we tried to get into were completely full. As an alternative, we ended up walking around Centennial Park for a short bit of time, and then decided to find a place to get a coffee. After taking a few random lefts and rights through the park, we went up the street a few blocks and were about to cross a very busy intersection when lo and behold, the one person I was so afraid to see, was on the other side waiting to cross himself. I immediately pulled out my phone, pretending I was doing something really important on it, deeply hoping he didn’t see me. But he did, and he waited patiently for us to cross and then hugged my recovery friend from Boston and then me.

I think it’d be safe to say that my ego really didn’t want to give him that hug. But thankfully I live by a much Higher Calling these days, because after I did, it was agreed we should sit down and talk. Ironically, the first thing he told me was how he suddenly had felt the urge to break away form the conference himself and head out in the random direction he did, which is precisely what put him on the path that intersected my own. After the hour and a half discussion between us flew by, the nine months that had passed without any contact from him seemed to melt away. He made his amends and told me how hard it’s been on him not having me close by anymore. He explained that his pulling back was the only way he knew how to deal with his abandonment issues and said that’s why he choose to room with others at the convention. He even paid off an old debt he owed me that I thought he had totally forgotten about.

That night we attended the huge meeting in the Georgia Dome together and it was like no time had ever passed at all. Even better, the next day the two of us headed out of town to a meeting about 20 miles away in Sandy Springs. There, we shared a small breakfast beforehand, felt spiritually inspired at the 8111 Clubhouse during the actual meeting, and then he took me to a late lunch at a place in Little Five Points, where it was just like old times between us. Later that evening, we attended the big meeting in the Dome again and it was there he gave me a very special 20-year medallion that I know was a true unconditionally loving gesture from his heart. When the meeting was over, we shared a long hug together and he promised he’d make a much greater effort to start reconnecting with me on a regular basis.

While I honestly don’t know whether that will end up being true or not in the long run, I must say that I feel a sense of peace in my heart now, where all that fear formerly was. I understand my friend so much greater now and truly was able to see his pain and abandonment issues he still has to face in life. Whether he works through them or not is up to him and God, but I’m still extremely grateful to my Higher Power for the chance encounter that led to such a peaceful and serene resolution…

Peace, love, light, and joy,

Andrew Arthur Dawson

Well the 2015 International AA Convention in Atlanta, Georgia is now officially over and as always I’m having plenty of spiritual thoughts and reflections looking back on it. For the next couple of days I’ll be speaking about them, with today’s topic specifically dealing with disabilities.

At a convention that had over 65,000 people, it was hard not to notice the number of individuals with various handicaps and health limitations. But to be honest, I think I’m predisposed nowadays to seeing them given how I’ve been enduring my own disabilities for the past few years. And while I must say that I continue to have faith in my Higher Power that my own health issues are only temporary and will soon pass, having them present at a convention with so many people was extremely overwhelming.

That feeling immediately began on my very first day of arrival, where I had to stand for extended periods and walk long distances through one of the largest airports in the world. By the time I checked into my hotel in downtown Atlanta, I was already shut down quite a bit mentally and emotionally because of it. Shortly thereafter, I headed over to the convention center to get my registration materials and it’s there I entered a sea of individuals that were thousands strong. As I stood there waiting in the “people with disabilities” line, I met a woman named Della who saw I was in great pain.

She had a gentle smile and a reassuring warmth to her that helped me to feel slightly less overwhelmed for a moment, of which I was very grateful for. I took a moment to observe her own disability, which was a fully missing leg. After a brief conversation with her, I learned she had almost died several decades prior due to cancer, but survived with only the loss of a leg. I have to say her positivity and hope did help me cope slightly better. But the longer I stood there, the more I grew uncomfortable with my bodily pain, of which she noticed and asked if I wanted to sit down on the bench next to her. I greatly obliged at which point she then asked the woman next to her who wasn’t disabled or dealing with any heightened health issues to allow me to sit down. Sadly, that other woman’s attitude wasn’t all that understanding, as she then left looking overly angry.

Once I finally was able to register, I truly thought I was going to cry, given how my body ached and the despair I felt inside over it. All of this led me to practice some humility during my registration process when I had the wheelchair logo added to my ID, which allowed me to use the golf cart transportation around the venues. My next stop after registration was the special assistance desk to inquire on how the disabilities transportation actually worked. It was there I met a kind girl in her 20’s who said I didn’t look very happy. I agreed with her and it’s then I actually broke down and started to cry, telling her about some of what I’ve been going through. I was grateful for her reassurance, kindness, and hug, as it, just like Della’s, helped me to feel like God was watching over me somehow.

Unfortunately, due to the distances I had to walk even with the special assistance available, the size of the crowds, meeting rooms that often reached full capacity, and the pain I consistently felt the entire time I was at the convention, I only ended up attending the Friday and Saturday night Georgia Dome meetings, which was a far cry from the amount of ones I would have attended otherwise. And by Sunday morning, the overall reality I came to understand for those with disabilities, whether temporary or permanent, is this. Having them is often a very difficult thing to deal with, especially when it comes to being amongst so many people. And while I know the conference staff did their absolute best to accommodate all those who had them, it can still be disheartening, just like it was for me. Truth be told, I actually felt lonely more than not during the majority of the weekend because of my own ailments, which ironically led me to spend greater time talking to my Higher Power than to anyone else in attendance.

But maybe that’s a good thing; maybe that’s exactly what my Higher Power wanted. Maybe I was meant to only observe the convention from a distance. Because what I realized in doing so is that even though there were thousands upon thousands cheering, clapping, and feeling such incredible joy there, there most likely were many others just like me on the opposite end of the spectrum, hurting as well. And ultimately, I believe it’s them we must always be on the lookout for in this world when we aren’t hurting ourselves, offering them those reassuring smiles, warmth, and hugs just like Della and the young woman from the special needs staff gave to me. I’m sincerely grateful to my Higher Power that they noticed my sadness and frustration, because at least for those moments, I didn’t feel so disabled and alone, but even more important, I truly felt unconditionally loved by God.

Peace, love, light, and joy,

Andrew Arthur Dawson