The CPH 12 conference in Copenhagen, Denmark

Thank you very, very much. Good evening. So on Tuesday, when I finally go back to work, they will ask me, what did you do this weekend?

I won't be able to tell them how wonderful this was, and even if I'd spent all of the week trying to tell them, they wouldn't understand. Tina told me that someone came in and did their first three steps since the convention started, and the two other people did fifth steps while they were here. This is a place of miracles.

Do we realize that

the problem is Monday morning or Wednesday night is just as much a place of miracles? So we have to work very hard that we don't confuse this moment as the only moment. It's all for us. My name is Kevin Heaney. I am an alcoholic of the doomed and hopeless variety. Thank you for having me here.

My secretary, Bettina, is from from Denmark. It was my intention to have her teach me to say what Bill Wilson said to Doctor Bob 37 years ago last week, that my name is Bill Wilson and I'm a Rumhound from New York. But I couldn't get it together, so I'm Kevin Heaney. I'm a Rumhound from New York. And I'm here to tell you Alcoholics Anonymous absolutely works. I'm so thrilled to see so many people who are new and so many people who are

Alcoholics but wish to understand this way of life. It's tremendous that you're here.

I come from New York, which is known to be a very liberal, very dangerous, very wild city. But the only way we could have this many people doing this and sleeping overnight in a church would have to call it Woodstock. And we need a whole lot of drugs, a whole lot of rock'n'roll and a whole lot of alcohol. So I salute Denmark for what you do. I've had my first drink when I was

12 years old. The boy who got it for me, he he in fact, his mother was Danish, his father was British.

So Denmark got me my first drink of alcohol

and I can sum up what I was like

as an alcoholic with the phrase not enough. I was not enough. I was not handsome enough, not smart enough, not strong enough, not well hung enough, not cute enough, you name it, I was not enough. And when I drank that alcohol, I became enough instantly. Alcohol opened doors. Alcohol made all things possible. My first sponsor, Spark used to say look back but don't stare.

Alcohol worked and it worked beautifully.

My father was a violent man. My mother died of cancer when I was a little boy. It was. I could give you a very strong ACO a qualification, but this is Alcoholics Anonymous. And the problem was not them. The problem was me. But when I drank, all was well and I thought all of you had something that I didn't have. There's a man a a He's dead now. Chuck Chamberlain, a man who I think is a St. If you do not know Chuck, learn about Chuck. He has a book and

new pair of glasses. He is just incredible man. He's Clancy's sponsor, but don't hold that against him.

And Chuck says it's like the insulation on the Alcoholics wiring is too thin. I feel things too much, I think too long. I worry too much. I can't help it. I was born that way. But when I drank alcohol, it all went away. Alcohol it was. It was a power greater than me

and I happily turned my will and my life over to it. And for a very long time it worked. If I had not found alcohol, I am sure that I would have committed suicide or had to kill my father. But by the time I was 19, I'm not being dramatic. That's the truth. Life on life's terms was unimaginable, but booze made it possible for me to keep going. So I had my first drinks and it wasn't something dramatic, it was two, you know, 12 year old boys. We drank a little bottle of something called

Comfort. It's a kind of, it's a, it's an American alcohol. And it was great. And the next morning I went home and I had found heaven on earth and I would work very hard to go back to heaven as often as I could. When I grew up this in the state of Connecticut, they did not allow alcohol unless you were 21 years old. So it was very hard to get a hold of alcohol. So I was always thinking about it, planning it, scheming it, who was old enough and had false identification to buy it. For me. When I switched to

drugs, it was much easier because drugs were illegal. Any, you know, no one could buy them. So everyone could buy them. But alcohol was hard to get. But it was worth the effort. And, and I learned to drink and I learned to drink. And I was raised in very strict American, Irish Catholics. So that meant dark winters in dark liquor, in the winter, in the summer, light liquors. You did not drink gin and vodka except during the summer months. And this was the rules that we were dignified people and and you drank,

you know,

red wine and fish. No, you know, all of these rules so that I could be sophisticated. I could be debonair. These are names. Maybe some of you don't know. So I could be like Rock Hudson and Cary Grant. So I could be something I dreamed of being because I was not enough. But alcohol let me be enough. I would was afraid of girls. Alcohol let me hold a girl's hand and go further and go further and, and and alcohol did that for me.

Every door that alcohol opened, it would later slam closed.

Everything alcohol gave me, it would take back and take back more. I didn't know that while it worked, it worked wonderfully. I got the, you know, the Knights by the sea where the sea is shimmering with the stars and the moon overhead and, and, and the Knights in the discos that were just incredible. And and we're just things were couldn't have been better. And then and then the horrible part of the disease, it stopped working so well.

And then there were times when I would only want to drink a little and I would drink a great deal.

And then the worst, there were times when I would drink a great deal and feel nothing. I would drink a quart of whiskey and feel nothing. And, and it wasn't that I thought I was not drunk. My tolerance got so high that I could drink and drink and drink. But then it was also unpredictable. I wasn't sure what would happen. And the years went on. I went to, I am trained as a social worker

and the first internship I had was at a drug and alcohol treatment facility

and they sent me there. And this was God's joke. He was sending me for treatment, but I wasn't ready and I didn't pay attention. And but I was exposed to many things that year. But one thing was they asked me each Monday morning they had an AA meeting in the hospital basement and I would sit through rounds with the doctors and the psychiatrists and the nurses and the PhDs. And it was very scary and very impressed. And they knew everything and I knew nothing. And then Monday morning they would send me

and I would sit in on the, a, a room with the and they had a little woman, her name was Honey Bunch. That was her nickname. And she was just so sweet. And the men and women would sit in a circle. I sat outside the circle, you know, I was an observer and they would have their AA meeting and it was like nothing I had ever seen or dreamed of. People would sit

and tell the truth and they would. They would say things no one should ever say in confession or to their therapists. They would tell the truth and then this is the amazing thing. They would get up, go back upstairs and lie through their teeth for the rest of the day. The same woman who said that she was a heroin addict would say I'm not a heroin addict. I ever did anything like that in my life. The man who admitted he was drinking day and night for 25 years said my wife's a bitch, that's why I'm here. She just set me up. I mean, how could they tell the truth in the basement

and come upstairs to where the treatment was and lie? Alcoholism is the answer. I didn't understand it, but what was even more touching was when the meeting would go on. It was like a purple light filled the room. I wanted to be part of that and I knew I had a problem with alcohol. I didn't know how much of a problem, but I knew I had a problem and I knew I shouldn't do it there. But I knew I could go to any a a meeting and I could raise my hand and say I am.

I'm an alcoholic and I could enter that circle.

I could not. No, no, no, no, no. The disease would not let me do that there. There is a phrase that is not used much in Alcoholics Anonymous in the United States. Maybe you use it here. It's called drinking against the will.

That is alcoholism. When you swear on your mother's grave, on your children's eyes, I will not drink today and you're drunk, that is alcoholism. When you drive a nail into your hand, don't let my pick up the glass and the hand picks up the glass, that is alcoholism. Somebody who drinks too much is a little sloppy. You know, a few car accidents

that could be a problem drinking, but that's not alcoholism.

The Big Book has two questions to determine if I am an alcoholic. One is that when I start to drink, can I control it? There was a time I could, but that time went away and it never came back. And I was always trying to bring it back. When I realized that I had this problem, I would try to control my drinking by I would. I never change brands. I always thought that was a stupidest thing in the world, you know, to go from beer to wine or wine,

whiskey. I mean, what's the point? It's all the same thing. But what I would do would be I would try to stop. I once stopped for nine whole months, and the people who worked under me sent a delegation to me to beg me to go back to drinking. I was ruining their lives. I was so pissed off at everything. But mostly I was pissed off that people were drinking and I couldn't drink. And then it got shorter and shorter and shorter and in the end I could only not drink Monday night and Tuesday night.

I would drink Wednesday and then I would drink Friday and Saturday. The woman I was living with at the time, and this was a terrible thing, when I fell in love with her or fell into bed with her, whichever happened first,

she drank Scotch and sodas, she smoked cigarettes, and within six months of moving in with her, she got al Anon disease.

And it hurts. It hurt me. She became a pain in the ass.

And the worst thing she did was she, she actually was a wonderful woman.

But she said to me, there was much pain in my heart. And at night, late at night, I could finally talk about the pain, about my mother's dying, about not getting to go to the grave, about not knowing until it was too late, about my father and his violence, about all the things that hurt. And when I would talk about this finally, she said you cannot talk to me about this at night.

You cannot come home drunk and tell me because you don't remember in the morning and it changes nothing. She said I will not allow it. She said you wake me up in the middle of the night, if you're sober, I'll talk, I'll talk till dawn. But you're not allowed to talk when you're drunk because it doesn't do anything. It doesn't change anything. It doesn't help you. And it started to make me explode

to I'm going to I'm getting comfortable

in order to hide from her. We lived in what is called a studio apartment. That means one room

with the kitchen in the same room and the bathroom is separate. So it's this one tiny room. You had the bed, a little space, a table with the TV and then the wall. I mean, it was that tiny. So I would, I worked at night, she worked during the day. So I would come home at night and I would buy the beer. I would buy 3-6 packs of beer and I would pop every bottle, every can before I got in the apartment. Because to an Al Anon's ears, there was no louder sound than the pop.

And I did not want to disturb her sleep. I wanted her to be at peace. So I would sit in this bathroom with no window and drink the beer and smoke Camel cigarettes. I was like Hitler in the bunker waiting for the Russians to come.

And, and this was the glory of alcohol. I mean, I had lived in England and gotten drunk all over England and all over the continent. And now I'm in this bomb shelter drinking at night, hiding from her. And, and Wednesday night she worked out of the city. So I got to actually sit in the living room and have the TV on and the window open for air. I mean, this was the glory of alcoholism. And I lied and, and I only had two people ever tell me

that I had a problem with alcohol. One is the American writer Norman Mailer. And he said, you're a sloppy drunk. And I was so embarrassed.

I unless you drank exactly like I drank, I would not drink with you because I didn't want you to say something to me. I had a friend who later came into this fellowship and he and I would, I knew he was safe to drink with because we would go to the liquor store and, and we would say, what are we going to drink tonight? And he'd say gin and we'd each get our own court. I knew he was safe. He wouldn't try to drink my drink and he wouldn't look at me. And

so this is going on and, and I've got this experience at the hospital where I know what an alcoholic is, I know what a A is, but I can't stop. I don't want to stop. So I'm doing all of these things to control my drinking.

You know, I don't drink in front of her and I and I hide it and I only drink with real Alcoholics who were just like me. And, and every so often the guilt and the shame and the embarrassment and the disgust become so unbearable. I stopped for a little while. And I don't know if any of you know the experience where you look at yourself in the mirror

and what I would see was not what I looked like, but what I was a slave to alcohol, a disgusting, pitiful slave. But I was 27 years old. I mean, I, I was, I was young. I, you know, I was strong. It didn't matter. And to prove I was not an alcoholic, I became very physical.

I would swim a mile a day, every day of the week. I would play squash 5 to 15 times a week. I ran 2 miles a day to get my body in shape. I ate health food, brown rice, raw vegetables, tofu. When no one else but the Chinese in New York knew what tofu was. I I went to therapy two times a week. I laid on the couch. I was making the body strong, the heart strong, the mind strong. I used three different forms of meditation and prayed the Catholic rosary beads,

but I kept drinking.

Except for these little periods where I would try to stop. I had lost control and when I would try to stop, I couldn't stay stopped. And the rest of the time I didn't care

and and I hated myself more and more and more

and

the world was ugly. And at 28 years old I was older than I think I will ever be in my life. I was an old, crushed, defeated, burnt out young man who had no future. And finally one day Linda said to me, we had a dinner party. And it was

a weekend I had been looking forward to. Friday night was the dinner party on Monday. It was an American holiday

is coming up in May. There was to be an outdoor barbecue and beer would be drinking out of doors in the summer, gentle air all day. And I just for weeks had been looking forward to just drinking and drinking and drinking and drinking. And Friday night we have this dinner party and I get drunk and, and the way I drank now was if you had me to your home, I was the most wonderful guest. As soon as I came, I took my jacket off and I was in the kitchen. I was cutting things, I was washing things.

I was putting things in the oven. I was grating cheese, I was cleaning the wine glasses. It was like paid help. Why? Because every time you walked out of the kitchen, I made another drink and I hid the drinks all over by the cornflakes, you know, by the flour, you know, in the dishwasher. I had five drinks going and one drink that I was slowly sipping.

So and I would be very visible with my one drink that I was slowly slipping, you know, meanwhile, and I'm now 10 drinks into the evening. But you didn't see that. That was my clever game. And in the middle of dinner, and the dinner is with my colleagues, psychiatrists, psychologist Linda looks across the table at me and says

you're a shit faced. How did you do it? I've only seen you have one drink.

I was so embarrassed with her lack of finesse and class She's

this.

I what can I do with this woman? I mean, you know, in front of these people and and then I did the great alcoholic thing. Maybe some of you have done this on the way home. I was pitiful and quiet, you know. Oh, poor me. Aren't I sad, you know, feel sorry for me.

The next morning I got up and I did what a man who is an alcoholic is courageous does. I fled the house before she woke up, went to the boatyard. I I did a lot of sailing

and spent the day drinking with my friends. And she came out that evening for a cocktail party and I was there in my blue blazer and the shirt and and looking like everyone else at the Yacht Club. And she got out of the car and looked at me and I knew she was not happy, nor should she be happy. A quart and a half of Monkey Rum, later, at 10:00 at night in my sister's living room, in front of sixty of our closest friends,

she asks the same question.

You're drunk. How did you do it and why did you do it? And there's silence in the room. Now I, being a clever alcoholic, knew that the only way to handle this was confront her. And I thought, if I can say as many big, long, multi syllable words as possible, I will prove that I'm not drunk. Because drunk slur their words and they don't use long sentences and they don't talk about Shakespeare and quote Schopenhauer. I would

dissolve her argument.

And she just looked at me and said, I'm not buying it and went to bed. And I got up the next morning, the day of this big party, and I knew I was screwed. We were not going to the party. And I got in the car with her and I turned to her to say something and I inhaled and I had a moment of grace. I inhaled and before I could speak,

I knew anything I say will be a lie.

It will be a lie because I can't do it. If I promised her I would stop, I couldn't stop. If I promised her I could cut down, I couldn't cut down. I knew anything I could say to make this go away. I had a moment where I couldn't lie, not that I didn't want to. No, no, no. I guess up until that moment I thought I could change, and now I saw myself. I couldn't change and so I was silent

for several days. I didn't drink. And then I drank again and there was another scene with her.

And the next morning I went to my office and I sat in my office and I looked down at what is called 1st Ave. in New York, a very big St. And I looked down at the street from my office window and and I thought, I'm going to lose Linda. She was leaving.

I will lose my family, I will lose my job, I will live on the street, I will drink non-stop and maybe one or two drunks a year I will enjoy. But I will drink and drink and this will go on for years and I know I can be a drama queen. I was not being a drama queen. This was the truth. I was looking out. This was what my life would be. And there was no hope.

This was what would happen. I would die ugly and I would die slow and it would take a long time. And I went in my office and I sat down and I looked at the ceiling and I and I started to say God help me, but I didn't believe in God for years. You know, idiots believe in God. The weak or the poor who can't afford therapy believe in God.

And I started to say that and I said nothing. And I sat back in the chair and I lit a camel and I said, so let it be

the ending of my life starts now. An in walked my secretary and I had misused this woman every way possible. I had made her do my job when I was drinking. I had, I just, I was a bad boss

and she looked at me and she said what's wrong with you? And I told her I'm being promoted in a job at a social work agency and I don't want to be promoted. I've been trying to get onto Wall Street to make a lot of money and I cannot get a job on Wall Street.

My stepmother, the wonderful woman who raised me, is dying of cancer. My sexual identity crisis is up again. And I listed 15 things, all real issues. And the last thing I said is, and I think I'm drinking a little too much.

And Rachel looked at me and she's a, a beautiful young woman, two years out of college. And she looked at me and she said, you remember when I went to Barbados in February and I said, yes, you were on a schooner, you were sailing the Caribbean. You said it was incredible, she said.

I didn't go to Barbados, said I went to Metropolitan Hospital. Metropolitan Hospital in New York City is a City Hospital, in other words, a hospital for the poor. People like me don't go there, even if they're run over by a truck. We go somewhere else. It's a bad hospital, bad service. And she said I went to Metropolitan Hospital, and she pulled her sleeves back

and all the way up the arm to the elbow were deep gouges in Frankenstein stitches. And she held her arms out to me. And she said I tried to kill myself. I was drunk. I'm an alcoholic. Would you come to an AA meeting with me?

I

Another part of my denial, besides the Whole Foods, the tofu, the therapy, the meditation, the levitation, the psychotherapy was I had a very busy social schedule, an extremely busy social schedule. It took you three weeks for me to fit you in with everything I was doing. Because drunks don't race yachts.

Drunks don't have three squash memberships. Drunks don't swim everyday. Drunks don't. Drunks don't.

I had nothing to do that night. There's a line from the American writer Kurt Vonnegut.

The book is called Cat's Cradle and the line is unusual. Travel plans are dancing lessons from God. My God was inviting me to dance that night and I tried to think of every excuse why I could not go to the AA meeting with Rachel. I had none for that night. Only that night I went with her to an AA meeting. And now I had been to a A before I knew a A A was great. I wanted to join AAI, just didn't want to be an alcoholic who had to go to a A. But now I'm on my way to

a with Rachel and we sit in the meeting and I listen very closely because the speaker is an investment banker and I want to figure out how did he get the job?

And,

you know, they're they after this speaker before they go to raising hands, they say, is there anyone new who would like to identify themselves? Now, for years, one of my wonderful defenses to protect me from being what I was an alcoholic was I would tell you I was an alcoholic.

You know, I'm Kevin. I'm an alcoholic because see, I ordered 2 drinks at a time in a bar because I couldn't wait for the waitress to get back to me after I finished the first drink. So I would order two drinks. By the time I was ready for the second drink, I'd order the next two drinks. Because they go away and they, they smoke cigarettes and they flirt with people and the bartenders all the way over there. And he won't look at you. And I'm, I'm going out of my mind.

So I ordered 2 drinks at a time. And if you looked at me and said why do you order two drinks at a time, I'd say because I'm an effing alcoholic. What do you think?

Because if I told you I was an alcoholic, you couldn't tell me I was an alcoholic because I had already told you I was an alcoholic. So it doesn't count. I'd out myself. So at the meeting when they said, is there anyone here who's new? I was very comfortable saying I was an alcoholic. So I shot my hand up and I said, I'm Kevin, I'm an alcoholic. After the meeting, a number of people came over to me because I said it was my first time. And I hope, ladies and gentlemen, in recovery from Denmark,

you aren't so busy making coffee plans and flirting with each other that when there's someone new in the room, you don't go over and give them your phone number and try to help them. Because you may.

It's not that I have strong opinions. It's a language difficulty

because we're here to be helped and to help and the best way. And but that night people came over and they said they were very kind to me and and one man said the misery is refunding at your at the door and and another man asked me to go to coffee. What I thought he said was do you want to go get a drink? And I put my hands in my pocket and I pulled out a few dollar bills and I said, and I'm surrounded by these people who are so excited. They've got a live one, you know, a new

A and and I pulled out these dollar bills and I look at them and I him and I say, I don't have that much money. Going to a bar is probably going to cost a lot. Why don't we got buy a bottle and go to Central Park and we can drink on a bench?

If I had soiled myself, the looks on people's faces would have been no more horrified. My first smart thing in a A was I shut up. Some of you are probably thinking I wish you stayed shut up, but you have me for another few minutes.

That was the 13th day of June in 1982. I have since that day never had a drink of alcohol. We we walked up a street in New York called Madison Ave. It's a very posh,

expensive St. and we passed they, you know, they have those little fruit stands where they sell you an apple for, you know, 50 krona type of prices. And they had a big sign in the window, limes and lemons on sale. And I turned to Rachel and said, well, there's some goddamn fruit I'll never be needing again. Now, you know, I was a real grateful newcomer, is what I'm trying to say.

But when an Irish Catholic kid stops drinking, I figure a hey gets another check on the board, you know, another victory. So let me tell you the bad part. I

I continue to smoke marijuana periodically and cocaine from time to time.

Listen closely, because I know I'm speaking in New York English, which you don't want to hear and probably can't translate so well. If you can sniff it, snort it, shoot it up, shove it up and swallow it without a bona fide doctor's prescription, your day count is 0.

I will explain why with my story in a moment. But I didn't hear that for a long time. And then when I did hear it, I didn't want to hear it because I wasn't using that much marijuana, but it was helping me get it together.

I say it because maybe you don't. It's not said because it will lead me back to what I really wanted to do, which is drink.

So I ignored that.

I came to a a Monday through Friday because Saturday and Sunday I sailed and I really didn't have time to be with you poor sick people. Go to coffee with you. Excuse me? I have real friends and I have a real therapist. I don't need your help. I'm very happy you're helping me with the drinking, but stay out of my life, you wretches. I'm happy to, you know, give you my dollar. Drink your cup of lousy coffee and throw empty my ashtray when I'm done.

And that's as much of you as I need. What was I really saying? I'm terrified of you. I'm terrified that you'll ask me to change. I'm terrified that you won't like me. I'm terrified that you won't ask me to go with you. I'm terrified that I won't fit in. I'm terrified that it's just like high school again and I'm not secure and you're all much better than me. That's what I was really saying. I'm afraid, I'm afraid, I'm afraid.

I don't care if it's newcomers or old timers. I think all alcoholic

are afraid. We inhale fear and we exhale anger. We need to be very gentle with each other. That doesn't mean we need to bend the rules too much, but I think we need to be gentle. So I smoke marijuana and then one about in June, I came in. In November I was at a magnificent wedding at a very, very exquisite

penthouse dining room. And the interesting thing is the entire wedding party, the bride, the groom, the bridesmaid's, the groomsmen, all would go into the men's room and sniff cocaine off toilets seats

and smoke marijuana. And the little Jewish grandmother was saying, that is my granddaughter doing going in the bathroom with the men's. And I mean, you know, here's her exquisite daughter kneeling down sniffing coke at her own wedding. And we thought it was great. And when we sat down to dinner, they had, you know, those wonderful, wonderful dinners where they're the six wine glasses, the three wedge, the three whites and the cognac glass is already laid out. And I gestured to the waiter. Remove the glasses. I don't drink. I'm in a A, you know, I've got cocaine

falling out of my nose, my fingers are burned from the joint. I'm smoking, but I don't drink. I'm in a A and I'm having a wonderful time. 15 more trips to the men's room with the bridal party and it's great. And the evening is ending and I'm watching the flickering lights of Manhattan and I think the only thing necessary to make this night perfect

is a double Glenfiddich or a Courvoisier, just to kind of roll in my hand and end the night perfectly.

And what you people had been trying to tell me suddenly clicked and I realized I want a drink. And I so I had my last drink in June, but my sobriety date is November 7th. It took me two years to realize that I wasn't lying, I just couldn't get it together in my head to understand. I started my trip but my sobriety date. Let me tell you what

the old timers used to say. Anything that I put between me and my sobriety. I may get the thing but I risk losing my sobriety.

I will tell you this slogan that I have. A day count will help you get a year, but a year count will help you count days. I needed to change my time. It hurt me to give up two years, but I would rather have two good days than two bad years. Please don't let pride take you out of here. Honesty is what is required, though sometimes we, I can't get honest as fast as I want or stay as honest as I want. But I, I did finally get it.

And then I, I was, there was a man, Sparky, who became my first sponsor. No, actually, I had been sponsored by someone briefly. I picked the meanest, toughest man in the room. I thought that's what I need. I had a father who beat me mercilessly. So I need a new father to beat me mercilessly. If any of you have this insane notion, lose it. Tonight. We needed a gentle God and a gentle sponsor. Clear, specific, firm

directions, but gentle and loving. This man, the tough one, dropped me and it hurt me so much. I was so embarrassed that I didn't ask anyone else again. So let me be frank on this point. I suspect some of you in this room have had several sexual partners, so if it didn't work out with one, you were ready to try another. Same thing with sponsors. If it doesn't work with one, get another one.

Don't be cute.

The man who I got Sparky was very gentle. He listened and listened and listened and I swore

if I live to be 100, I could not pay back what this man did for me. And I have sponsored since I went through the steps. I have never had less than five sponsees, sometimes 15. I would have had a much bigger life. I would have been much more successful, worldly successful. But this is my job. There's a line in the big book that says to fit myself, to be of maximum service to God, my fellows, that

my purpose. I have had existential doubt. Who am I? What is the world about? What am I doing here? I'll tell you what it is for me to help another drunk or another human being. That's what it is for me. And if we just make it, helping another drunk, that's not good enough. I need to be a good brother, a good son perhaps, and a good father, a good worker, a good boss, a good citizen. It's to be good in all these areas, not just with

if I show this mankindness and I snap it at the office,

I'm full of shit. My sponsor, Bill Baldwin said sounding good in an AAA meeting is the easiest thing in the world to do and the most unimportant.

So Sparky gave me Mountains of Time and and it was higher powers way of making up for the dad who couldn't give me anything but his fists.

And I could not tell Sparky the truth. I couldn't. I did a fifth step and I was too embarrassed to admit to my homosexual activity in the past and I couldn't admit to him that I had this job as a stockbroker and I was terrified to call up strangers and ask for money. So I did nothing at the job and I ruined the relationship. I was afraid he would judge me. I was afraid he would condemn me. I strangled the relationship with my own hands. He never would have done that.

I didn't give him the chance. I think the hardest thing in the world, we'd say get a sponsor. And I'm going to talk about sponsorship. It's the hardest thing to do. Oh, I have inadequate and ineffective and dysfunctional relationships in every area of my life. But you tell me, let an absolute stranger in to start telling me how to live my life. I don't think so. But that's what you tell me to do. And the extent that I can do it, I start to get better.

So I I killed the relationship with Sparky and I had no sponsor. And then one day

I'm now, I've now got the job on Wall Street. I'm a stockbroker. You know the image. Nothing's really happening. I'm not making any money. I'm terrified. I'm hiding under my desk for weeks on end. But I've got a, you know, a business card.

And one day I wake up and I realize it's nothing. And the woman who I'm dating, she's beautiful, she's kind, but we don't care about each other. It's not going anywhere. The careers not going anywhere. I walked away from her career I loved. And I don't know how to say no. And

like a cat stuck up a tree, I don't know how to climb down.

And I wanted to kill myself. And it was a beautiful, beautiful August morning. New York has ugly summers. But this was a it was bell, clear blue sky, bright sun with a wind blowing from Canada. That was cool. And I got up and I wanted to die. And I couldn't go to work. And I went to the 79th St. workshop, this big, big meeting in the city. And I sat there and I, I didn't know what to do. I was having

an emotional and spiritual bottom, and this man Keith came into my life and he basically taught me the big book. And for a year we were inseparable. And I hope you all have heroes in AA, men or women, who you look up to. I hope you have the experience I had of someone in a A. When you just see them, it's easier and we talk to them. The tension goes away. And when they give you time, it's going to be all right. People who transmit,

all is well. You're going to be OK kid. Don't worry, it's not that bad. It'll work out and you feel it.

And I followed him like a, like a puppy,

and he taught me a A and he transmitted to me. It's a very wonderful word, transmit. It's used in our literature the the form of Buddhism I practice talks about transmission. I believe that that is what happens, the spark of divinity.

Jumps across. Actually, it doesn't jump across because the divinity in me salutes the divinity within you. But by having that salute, it helps me to awaken that I am this thing. Keith taught me the big book, taught me to go through the book and do these things. There have been other sponsors. My sponsor, Mike is sitting here. Mike has been incredibly kind. I worked with one man for 12 years. It took me 11 years to only lie to him 20% of the time.

Truth doesn't come quickly to me

because I would rather die than be embarrassed or humiliated. I would rather lie and strangle the relationship than say I screwed up again. Help me, I'll tell you what I know with the 23 years I have.

I'm a doomed and hopeless alcoholic. I am hopeless because I have a physical allergy. The first drink leads to the next and the next and the next. 5000 years ago, the Chinese said the man takes the drink,

the drink takes the drink, the drink takes the man. That's what a A understands about the craving. But then the other part, why I'm doomed? Because I am restless, irritable and discontented unless I'm working this program, unless I feel some connection and sobriety. For me, and I get this from Chuck Chamberlain, sobriety is physical abstinence plus the ability to be at peace, ease and comfort with you, with me and the God of my understanding. That is true

variety. And then I have something to give and then I want to give it.

I have been.

My life just won't stay up. There's an old American Blues song called Born Under a Bad Sign. I can't remember who wrote it, but there's a line in the song that says if it weren't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all.

That's been what's blessed me. I haven't wanted to work with Christian Mystics and then work with the Kabbalah and then go work with the Hindus. It's because I can't put the fire out in my soul except for brief periods. It's, you know, there's a slogan, maybe you know it. It wasn't the light of heaven that got me into a A. It was the burning of the fires of hell on my ass that got me here.

Every time I think it's going well, it stops going well, 'cause I stopped doing what I need to do

and I cheat myself and I slit my throat and then the pain gets unbearable and then I get busy again and and then I, I have a breakthrough. Bill once said to me, he said, Kevin, you'll look back at this time, whatever the hardship was. He said, you'll look back at this with envy because it woke you up and got you moving. See, 'cause I want to hit the snooze alarm. I don't want to grow. I don't want to get better. I don't want to be healthier. I want to get by, get over and get