The Brentwood Beginners Workshop in Los Angeles, CA

Help me to welcome tonight's speaker, Eileen W

Good evening. My name is Eileen and I'm an alcoholic. I want to thank Danny for asking me to come over here and share today.

I've just recently moved around the corner, which means I can never come here because it's too close.

Anyway, I I'm very happy to be here. I'm very grateful to be here.

In a little less than two months, I'm going to celebrate 40 years of sobriety. And what's astonishing to me about that is that when I got sober, a A was only 40 years old. A A is going to be 80 years old this year. And I didn't know anyone who had 40 years, not even close. I mean, all the people that I thought of as newcomers, I mean, as old timers, were people who had like maximum 2025 years. And they were really old people, you know, and

so, but now, you know, AA is filled with people of, you know, relatively young age who have been here for a really long time. We've been able to, able to spend, you know, the vast majority of their lives. And Alcoholics Anonymous, I, I, I first came to AA in the summer of 1974 when I was 23 years old. And I, I did not get sober in 1974. I came around for about 5 months and I didn't get sober

and thank God the only requirement for membership is a desire to stop drinking. I think I had the desire. I just wasn't quite there yet,

you know, because I came in at a time when there were not a lot of young people in a A and there were not a lot of attractive young people at AA like we see now. And I was one of the more unattractive of the unattractive young people. Much of it had to do with how I looked. I weighed about 230 lbs.

I had

a 599 granny dress from Zodi's

and a pair of flip flops and a rather Ruddy complexion that comes from drinking too much wine and a bad haircut that I believe I had performed on myself,

Spotty hygiene and a really bad attitude. And I think that's perfection for a newcomer personally, because I really had no life and

I didn't know for sure when I came here initially, if I was an alcoholic, I only drank and used for 12 years.

And but for me, I've come to find out that it was really enough. You know, I came in at a time when, you know, to have a good resume and Alcoholics Anonymous, you had had to go to a lot of penitentiaries and nut houses. And, you know, they like to play the game. Can you bottom this? You know, that's a game they like to play in a a, it's the one, you know, where, you know, if you've gone to 47 nut houses in 22 jails, you have a lot of prestige

and you try that material at the high school reunion and they back off. But, but here it entitles you to something. I'm not sure what. But anyway, I, I came here and I didn't think much had happened to me because I was so out of touch with what had happened to me. You know, I, I started drinking when I was about 12 years old. I learned very quickly

that if you were a reasonably attractive young girl and willing to do just about anything for even the promise of a drink,

as my friend Wanga Begay used to describe it, if you learned how to do certain favors with much older guys, you could get what you needed no matter how old you were. And I learned very quickly that I was willing to trade myself for alcohol and drugs. And I grew up during the 60s, and the 60s were a fantastic era for people like me because the 60s were the first generation before. Since it said get as blasted as you want to. It's the preferable way to live,

you know. And I had no reason to not get loaded. I barely graduated from high school. I have a genius IQ. I got into a college by one 100th of a percentage point based on my SAT scores, which I somehow managed. Today I got into college and I majored in getting loaded, rioting, and hanging out. The only problem was when I got into college, I was pregnant. And I was pregnant not by my high school boyfriend, but by some drug dealer that I slept with one time and never

again. And by the time that I went to the doctor to find out if I was pregnant, I was 4 1/2 months pregnant. And at that point, there was nothing that I could have had done about it anywhere in the world.

And so in March of 1969, I had a child, a son. I gave him up for adoption. And 10 days later I was back to partying exactly the same way I was before I got pregnant.

And I went back to school and I managed somehow in four years to accumulate 31 units in

some subjects,

which were like Buddhism, Marxism. I took a class in Chaucer. I like Chaucer a lot. We sat in the back of the room and drank Old English 800 while we studied Middle English. And anyway, I got into a lot of trouble. Around 1970, we had a student strike at Valley State, which is now Cal State Northridge. It was actually the most radical campus in Southern California. I got into trouble

and they told me if I did it again I'd get kicked out. So I came back the following year and did it again

and I got kicked out and I lived a very marginal existence. You know, I sort of pretended to go to school. I had some half ass jobs. Nothing really got in the way of my vocation, which was getting loaded. And I'm no stranger to what the big book of Alcoholics Anonymous refers to as pitiful and incomprehensible demoralization. I've had some brushes with some extremely shifty and seedy and dangerous characters. I used to hang out at a place up in Box Canyon, which

one of the two canyons. It runs between Simi and San Fernando valleys. It runs parallel to the Santa Susana Pass, which is where Spawn Ranch was, which is where the Manson family lived. And I never met Charlie, but I met a bunch of his followers. And years later I went on a panel to the California Institute for Women, which is where all the remaining Manson girls are housed. Susan Atkins is dead. But the night that I went there, she was the secretary of the inside meeting.

And they're never getting out. They are never getting out. And they were young girls. They were Alcoholics and drug addicts. And there used to be a guy named Normality around who talked really, really fast. And he used to talk about seconds and inches. And sometimes it's just seconds and inches, 'cause I remember my friend Chris taking a hike up the hill and coming back down and saying there's a guy up there

and he's got all these women around him and they do whatever he tells them to do,

you know? And he also used to recruit down on Venice Beach. And I used to go to Venice Beach because quite frankly, the companions in the valley just weren't low enough for me. And I had to go to Venice to find my people,

my people who were, you know, drinking wine and smoking dope and hanging out in the pagodas and singing the House of the Rising Sun. And I'm here to tell you they're still doing that now.

And they have an additional thing going on down in Venice now. It's called the drum circle. It's a bunch of people sitting in a circle playing drums and,

and I don't really notice the drummers. I noticed things. I sort of noticed things in visuals. And there's always couple of women, two or three women who look like they've been transported by this from the 60s, but not in very good shape. And they're always dancing, you know, at the edge of the drum circle, you know, like we used to dance at the Beans, you know,

and Griffith Park. And they're always dancing. And they've had

too much sun.

They've had way too much to drink. And their hair is a funny color. And they're a little too hefty to be wearing that halter top and that Indian bedspread skirt. And they're dancing. And to most people, I guess they would look like they're having fun. But I look at those women and I just think they don't know where they're going to sleep tonight.

But I'm willing to bet they're going to do anything they have to to get a place to sleep. And they don't really know where their next drink is coming from necessarily,

but I'm willing to bet they're going to do whatever they have to to get their next drink. Because those women are just like I was when I was 141516 years old. You know, I went to live on a commune in Washington with a guy and who hated me in Los Angeles. And I knew it would be different in Washington. I don't know what the fuck I was doing going to a commune. I'm Jewish. We don't camp, you know, and

honest to God, if a hotel doesn't have room service, it's camping to me. And

you know, but I thought that's what I was supposed to do. I lasted 2 weeks and then I ended up living with some drug dealers in Eugene, OR that I didn't know of drug dealers because I was stupid and, and,

and then I got some nice guy. I talked some nice guy into buying me a plane ticket to come back to LA. And anyway, I found out about Alcoholics Anonymous. I guess maybe I'd heard of it. I'm not really sure. I don't think I knew anybody in a, A cause a, a was a much more anonymous organization back in 1974. And I was watching television one night. Well, actually, I was passed out in front of the television one night and I sort of came to at 3:00 in the morning.

And I don't know if Central Office still does this, but they did it back then and they put a single card up on the local TV stations in Los Angeles. And it was just a single card. It wasn't a commercial. It would just come up like in the middle of the night when people would come to in front of their CVS. And it said, do you have a drinking problem?

And it gave the number of central office. And for some unknown reason, I called the number. See, I knew I drank too much, but So what? Everybody I knew drank too much. And what the hell was I going to do about it anyway, if, in fact, I even wanted to do anything about it? But I called the number and a man answered the phone and he said, Alcoholics Anonymous, may we help you? And I said, I think I drink too much. And he said, would you like me to have somebody call you? And I said OK,

And he woke some total stranger, some woman up in the middle of the night and she called me and she said, can I help you? And I said, I think I drink too much.

And she said, would you like me to take you to a meeting? And I said, Oh, no, thank you,

I'll get there myself. I came to Alcoholics Anonymous like this. Help me stay as far away from me as possible. But please help me.

I was not a cuddly newcomer. I was not a vision for you. I was not the one that everybody raced across the room to talk to. There was just something about me that said please just go away. It may have to do with the fact that I used to lean against walls with my arms folded and glared at people. And because I was terrified. I was terrified and

came around for about 5 months in 1974 and I did not get sober.

I had periods where I didn't drink maybe for a day, maybe for two days, but I wouldn't call what I did slipping. I just simply didn't get sober. I wasn't ready. And there were very nice people, couple of them in Hollywood. AAI got sober in Hollywood in a bunch of basements, and

there were a couple of guys there, Lee Larson and and Irving Neme, and they were mean, actually, but they were really nice to me and because they saw right through me. But

it wasn't enough. And when the holidays rolled around, I just celebrated my 40th sober holiday season. But that year was the last year that I got loaded.

And when the holidays rolled around, I thought to myself, I can't think of anything more depressing than being an AAA at the holidays, not sober. And so I left. And I had some vague plan to come back after the first of the year, but my birthday is March 3rd. So it took a little longer than I thought it would because my plans rarely ever worked out. You know, I tell my mother, I come to dinner, she was still talking to me. And then I'd run into somebody and they would say, would you like to go to Mexico? And I'd get in the car. And

anyway,

I had a therapist. I'm not here to knock therapy. I found therapy to be extremely helpful since I've learned how to tell the truth. And you know, talking to a sponsor is very helpful if you tell them the truth Also, by the way. And but I had this, I had a series of therapists before I got sober who were just really

sketchy. And this guy was the weirdest of all. His name was Sid and he was blind. And we used to smoke dope and neck during my sessions. So you know that I was getting an enormous amount of help from Sid, and

Sid persuaded me to go to this place called the Benevolent Pines for New Year's weekend. It's a church camp in the San Bernardino Mountains, but it's not what you think. It's run by the Unitarians, and they're loose. And anyway, I only agreed to go after Sid assured me there'd be liquor there because I wasn't there in therapy, by the way, to discuss my drinking. I was in therapy to unravel as my sponsor, Julie, see, the great white Goddess, She Who Must be Obeyed

'cause I was there to unravel the fascinating mystery of me. And believe me, it was fascinating. But anyway, we go up to this place and sure enough, they were unloading gallon jugs of some unknown vintage out of the back of a station wagon. Unknown vintage is my drug of choice. And, you know, just the cheapest wine. The time that my friend Don Norman describes is coming in and hovering over a grape and never quite coming in for a landing. That kind of stuff. You know, alcoholic wine Thunder

Mad Dog 2020 Ripple. You haven't lived till you've puked Ripple Pagan Ping through your nose. Anyway,

I spent the entire weekend completely inebriated, having a three-way with a couple of sex therapists from Carpinteria, California whose names were Bert and Sally. I don't know why I remembered their names. I guess I thought I would look them up,

which I never did. Not because I think there's anything wrong with a three-way, but because they're creepy. Anyway, I

I came back from that adventure or that misadventure and didn't get sober for another couple of months, and then on March 3rd of 1975, for no apparent reason, I came back to Alcoholics Anonymous. There actually was a reason, but I didn't know it. I was tired

and also I had gotten a perception of a A which I hold to this day. I thought A A is good, it's decent, it's wholesome, it's unhit. People seem to be nice to one another here, which I didn't understand.

And it was the 1st place that I had been in years where I felt like nobody, nobody would laugh at me if I said I wanted something other than what I had.

And so I came back and on March 4th of 1975, I went to the old Radford Clubhouse when it was still on Radford in North Hollywood. Believe me, I'm not sentimental about the meetings that have died or moved. You know, AA has just grown and thrived. And but I used to go to meetings, you know, most of which are no longer here. And anyway, I went to this meeting in Bradford and the man who became my first sponsor, a man named Bob Earl, backed me up against the wall in that meeting. He had met me the year before

and he said to me, look, punk,

He said, you have a serious problem with alcohol and drugs and you better damn well get sober. You're going to die. And then he said, if you don't get sober, I'm going to break your jaw.

Now I don't know what you would have thought. I thought he cares. You know, I heard he cares,

and then I spent the next month calling him up screaming at him. Why do you care about me? Why do you care about me?

I remember he screamed back at me. Because you're psycho.

When I got to a a, A,

I just saw I was the biggest piece of crap that had ever crawled out from under a rock. I remember one night Bobby was going to the liquor store to get cigarettes and I still spoke in those days and I say, could you get me some cigarettes? And I held out some money and he didn't take my money.

And then he came back with two packs of cigarettes and he didn't expect me to give him anything. And where I was coming from, if you wanted, if you, you know, if you were nice to somebody, it's because you wanted something. And if somebody was nice to you, it's 'cause they wanted something.

And the people of Alcoholics Anonymous didn't seem to want anything from me. And I just didn't understand that for quite some time. This was completely different than anything I had ever encountered. I mean, and I grew up in a nice home, really nice home with two intact parents. Their names were Harry and Harriet. They were upset. They were meant to stay together. And, you know, and they made it almost 63 years. And about 7 1/2 years ago, my mother died very suddenly. She was fine one day, and dead.

And many of you in here know my father, the Prince of Men,

and he's 93 years old, and I am completely devoted to my father.

And

because he had never lived alone, he'd gone from his family to the Marine Corps to marriage with my mother. And he lived alone here on Montana for about 7 years. And then about six months ago, he finally moved to Ocean House down on Ocean Ave., which is comforting to me, but he doesn't like it because there's too many old people

and,

you know, because he's got all his marbles and walks without orthopedic appliances. I mean, I'm in much worse shape than my father. You know, I, I've had, unfortunately, the warranty has run out on a lot of my parts since 1992. I've had six major orthopedic surgeries since 1992. I just had a hip replacement on October 9th. It's my second one. I'm completely bionic now

and sometimes I get down about that. I guess I'm going to spend a few minutes talking. I did get sober off,

still sober almost 40 years. Lot has happened. But I want to talk about how I feel about Alcoholics Anonymous in my place in it for a few minutes.

I don't think that when we get sober, we're exempt from life. You know, life happens. Life happens to all of us. And sometimes I don't like it. You know, there's a big difference between not liking things that go on in my life and not being grateful for Alcoholics Anonymous. There's never been a time that I can honestly tell you in almost 40 years that I have not been grateful for Alcoholics Anonymous. And truly, the longer I'm sober, the more grateful I am because

I'm sober, the more I need this program. I have never felt that the point of AAA is to get yours and split. The point of AAA is to get yours and then give it back to somebody else. I like the fact that people say to me, I love still seeing you in the rooms. And I want to say to them, I love still seeing me in the rooms too, because I don't know what would happen to me if I didn't come to meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous. I still work full time. I spend a lot of time with my dad, but I still manage to get to 2/3

meetings a week. And I love meetings. I love meetings. I go to meetings for four different reasons. I go to meetings because I need them. I'm one of the lucky people who has never, ever been able to labor under the illusion that I do not need this program. I was at Bed Bath and Beyond the other night. Well, that'll drive you to drink. Just going to Bed Bath and Beyond,

beyond the limits of my tolerance. And anyway, I was on the escalator, which I shouldn't have been on. I should really take the elevator. And there were some kids, you know, roughhousing up near the top. And I got frightened because, you know, I just had a hip replacement and I was afraid I wasn't going to be able to make it off at the end.

So I yelled at them. I said get out of the way, I'm disabled. And a man who I guess was her grandfather said you may be disabled lady, but you ugly. And

so I just turned out the round to him and I said why don't you just go fuck yourself?

And then the woman was with him, said he's my dad. I said I could give a shit.

I said I'm

probably as old as he is. I'm not insulting the old person.

I didn't feel good about it, but you know, shit happens and

you know, we are not sage people.

You know, I love what comes after the reading of the 12 step. You know, people always say, why don't we have to keep reading the same stuff over and over and over again? Well, because sometimes you just may hear it. And after the reading of the 12 step, it says many of us explained what an order. I can't go through it that do not be discouraged. And then the best line in the big book. No one among us has been able to maintain anything

by perfect adherence to these principles. Do you know what that means? Nobody's even come close. And then it goes on to say, you know, we are not Saints. The point is that we are willing to grow along spiritual lines.

I wish that the Fanatical Big Book Gumpers would read their big books as thoroughly as the Fanatical Bible Thumpers. I really do. Because, you know, there's lots of stuff in there that's about our humanity and our love and tolerance and not beating each other up over a word or a phrase. Just my opinion. And I mean that. Just my opinion, but that's how I feel about it,

you know? I'm here to be of love and service.

That's what I'm here for, to be of love and service. Because being of love and service has saved my life. I lived my life in self obsessed,

insular fashion before I came to AAI. Always wondered how I was impacting the planet, what you thought about me, you know, all of this stuff. And Alcoholics Anonymous has freed me of this, has freed me of this. I'm an eccentric. I'm an odd nick. I cherish it and I celebrate it because Alcoholics Anonymous gives me the freedom to be exactly who I am,

to be exactly who I am. And who I am

is a really good friend, a really good daughter, a fantastic employee. I've had the same job for over 27 years. I'm a personal assistant in the entertainment industry. I work for one of the nicest men in town,

and I have that job until I'm 105 if I want it, You know, because I show up every day and because Alcoholics Anonymous and growing up during the 60s has taught me equanimity. And I don't see any difference between buying dog food or going to the Academy Awards. And I've done both in this job, you know, because I'm just there to be of service, to do whatever needs to be done to make my boss's life easier, to make his wife's life easier,

to make the entire situation easier for everybody. And most of the time, I succeed. Most of the time I succeed because of this program and Alcoholics Anonymous. I've learned how to do the inconvenient thing. Do you know what a gift that is? You know, I love my father to pieces. It's not always convenient to do everything that one needs to do for an aging father.

But you know what? I'll drop anything if you need to make it. And it's not convenient every time because I don't get to do whatever I want.

I don't get to do whatever I want. And an Alcoholic's Anonymous, I learned the spirit of cooperation. Do you know what an amazing thing that is? You know, I always wondered what it was that got me to go from the person I was when I walked through the door to somebody who actually, you know, became a viable, useful person here. And I think it's cooperation with the people in the program of Alcoholics Anonymous. I decided to try and fit myself to what you know, God or a higher power, whatever it is would have

be and to make me be right size and justice to be here as a person among persons you know and a man among men and you know, I, I love Alcoholics Anonymous during the questions I hope to tell you more about everything that's happened in my life in the last 40 years. Good, bad and different. Black, white, who cares anyway? Thank you very much for having me.

I guess there's questions now and they should be I guess in the forum of a question, as Denny said. Does anyone have a question?

Oh, Oh yes. I will repeat the questions, Nancy.

Oh, sure, Nancy, I'd be happy to.

The question is tell us about that child I put up for adoption. Well,

if you think that there will come a time when everything in your life will be wrapped up in a nice little neat package

and nothing will ever seep out your ears and down your neck anymore, and God will say leave her alone. She's had enough. Forget it,

God or the higher power or whatever it is because I'm still not sure,

has a way of throwing what I like to call the celestial monkey wrench into the mix just to make sure we're paying attention. And on July 4th of 1996, I got a whopper. I'll try to tell the short version of the story, but I was sitting on my couch and my phone rang and it was a woman. It was a It was a 4th of July weekend and I was looking forward to four days off of work. Nothing was troubling me. I was drinking a nice big cup of coffee, staring out the window and my phone rang. It was a woman that she said,

my name is Julie Jones and I'm a private search investigator from Seattle, WA. And I've been asked to locate you. And I had no idea why she was calling. And she said it's your name, Eileen Waterstone. And I said yes. And she said, does the date March 28th, 1969 mean anything to you? And then I knew and I started to cry and I said, is he in Seattle?

And she said, Oh no. She said, we do this all by computer. He lives in your area code.

My son was living about a mile and a half away from me. 27 years later

she said can I give him your phone number? I said no. I said. I said give me his, call him back, tell him I'll call him in about 1/2 an hour. I got a couple of things I need to take care of and

called a few people. I called people that I knew that had adopted kids. I call people that I knew who were adopted. I called my parents who are not home, thank God. I called my sponsor who was home, thank God. And then I took a deep breath and I picked up the phone and I called them and I said my name is Eileen Waterstone. And I understand you're looking for me.

And in our very first conversation, without knowing a thing about me, he told me that he had been in a rehab two years earlier. Now, considering the details of his conception, I was not stunned.

I could also tell by the tone of the conversation that he was not currently rehabbing, shall we say? So I thought, oh what the hell. So I said, hey, I said, what an amazing coincidence. I said I

have 21 years in Alcoholics Anonymous and he was like, oh,

anyway, I made a date with him. I went to pick him up three days later. Except for the fact that he's 6 foot four, half Mexican and a guy. We look exactly alike and

a lot of you know him. His name is AJ. Anyway,

I pick him up, we go downtown for sushi. We share a genetic liking of sushi and he orders some sake or some beer. I pay for it, you know, figure get him in a little sooner.

And during the course of the conversation, the subject of AA comes up and he says A is a really great program. I go to a meeting anytime because when he was in the rehab they had taken him. And I said, listen, I said there's something you really need to know about me. I said I'm not just some casual drop into a meeting anytime, kind of a gal. I said I'm like a rabid fanatical member of Alcoholics Anonymous. I said as a matter of fact, I said you can refer to me as the Empress of A A if you like.

Anyway, my son, after I met him

when in and out of the program for 10 years, 10 years, every guy I knew tried to help him. He had a drug induced heart attack when he was 35.

He got into a domestic thing with his girlfriend. My grandson went to foster care. He went to jail. The last two years that he was drinking and using. I couldn't talk to him anymore. He was so insane. He'd be up for him five times at, you know, four and five days at a time. I couldn't talk to him.

And then I heard that he found the guy that he would listen to, like I listened to Bob and he got sober. And he has a little over eight years now and, you know, both of my grandchildren, he has custody of both of his kids now. He has a wonderful girlfriend who's also sober in the program. And it's not

like other relationships. It's, it's odd.

It's odd, but we have a good relationship and I know that he respects me and I respect him, you know, and the other thing, you know, there were so many coincidences I didn't find out until later. I used to sponsor a girl named Jackie Owen when he was 16. He was friends with her daughter and he was in her house when I was sponsoring. But the best thing was when I first met him, his job was being the door man at Jumbo's Clown Room, the notorious strip bar in Hollywood which is owned by the grandfather of my niece's.

So Needless to say,

it was all good. Anyway, that's what happened and it's been an amazing journey. He's 45 and I'm almost 64 now. He's been in my life for 18 years. Anyone else?

Yes.

Explain some of your spiritual experience of the past 40 years? Sure. Could I explain some of my spiritual experience of the past 40 years? I'm not a deist. If anything, I'm probably kind of a Buddhist Jew

's you know, the getting down on the knees thing never worked for me. I just could never assimilate that. I believe that there is definitely some sort of power in the universe. I am not the most persistent prayer or meditator.

What I believe is this,

I believe in experience. You know, we talk about sharing experience, strength and hope. And when I have an experience, you know, and I've had a lot of experiences, some of which have felt like the worst thing that has ever happened to me in my whole entire life. And when I have an experience, I try to remove my judgment from the experiences being good or bad or positive or negative or black or white. It's merely experience.

And what I've discovered over the past 40 years is that every time I've needed some sort of change in my life, God or the higher power has moved a person or a situation into my life to propel me to the next place where I'm supposed to be.

And you never, ever know when you're in the middle of an experience, or I never, ever know when I'm in the middle of experience. I'm just going to cite one example.

I told you my mother died very suddenly 7 1/2 years ago. She was literally fine one day and dead the next.

And in January of that year she died in May. In January I had this very serious foot surgery. I had all the joints in my right heel fused and I basically had to lay in bed for six weeks with my leg on a pile of pillows for 18 hours a day. And I couldn't put any weight on my foot. I couldn't walk and I'm too clumsy to use crutches. So I stayed at my parents house for six weeks. I was 50, almost 56 years old

when I had this surgery

and I stated my parents home for six weeks and I got six weeks with my mother that I never would have gotten under any other circumstances. And four months later when she died I began to bless my wonky flat flipper of a foot because it gave me the gift of the time with her. Right before I turned 60 I got a tattoo on top of my foot, which I do not recommend.

And

and what it is, it's a memorial to my mother. Because when I get discouraged about my foot, I look down and it's a Hamza, which is a hand of protection with a Jewish star in the middle with a heart and around the top of the foot. It has her name in the year she was born, in the year she died. And it just makes me feel better about my wonky, weird foot.

And I got that time. So that's the kind of faith that I have in the universe that all will be provided

that, you know, the spiritual experience in the back of the book. Really all they're talking about in those two pages is a change of attitude. I told you what I was like when I was new. I'm a fairly positive individual. I'm not perky, but I am a fairly positive individual. I am more than willing to see the good in just about every situation. And when I got here, I always waited for the other shoe to drop. And I just don't feel that way anymore. I don't walk in fear,

I don't hate myself. So really, basically I've just had a change of attitude like they talk about in the back of the book, and I'm willing to view life in a completely different way. Does that help?

Yes.

How have I used the how have I used the program and the steps for my surgeries? I've definitely used painkillers. I'm not a masochist or an idiot.

I I have used them as prescribed. I have discovered, much to my amazement, that if you use painkillers for the purpose for which they're intended, you don't actually get high. Unbelievable. You know, I used to use prophylactic Percodan in case I might have a feeling at some future date.

You know what I'm saying? I enjoyed a pill or two. OK, I'm going to admit it openly and freely up here. I enjoyed a pill or two for non medical purposes anyway. I yes, I've used pain medication. I've tried to get off of it as quickly as I possibly can. The the real miracle is I don't even like it anymore.

It makes me feel icky and I don't like feeling like that anymore. The other thing that I've done is I've tried not to make everybody in my life miserable around me because I've had to have surgery,

OK? I don't take it out on the world. I've actually had a fairly good attitude and it's been a, it's been a real

process. My first surgery, I didn't even want to ask for any help. I just didn't want to ask for any help. I didn't want to bother anybody. I had a surgery, I had my leg in a cast. I put together the six foot tall bookcase from IKEA by myself because I wasn't going to ask anybody for any help.

Umm this last surgery I asked for help. It was a very stressful time. I was living in Park Labrea in a tower with very faulty elevators, which really caused me an enormous amount of stress. There were two days when there were no elevators at all and I was living on the 8th floor and I had to climb those elevators, those stairs with a hip that was completely shot. And I

sponsor of mine said I'm getting you out of there. And this girl is a real go getter and she found me this perfect little cottage over here on Sunset in Gretna Green

with no stairs, you know, and a front door and a back door. And it's absolutely perfect for me, except for the critic, the cricket infestation, which is being taken care of as we speak. But anyway,

I asked for help this time. Anybody who wanted to help me, anybody who wanted to take me to the hospital, pick me up from the hospital, bring me food, come visit me, anyone who wanted to be with me, I just let him do it. Because I have finally discovered after almost 40 years what a spiritual gift it is to allow other people to help you.

If it helps me to help other people, I have to believe that it helps other people to help me, you see. So I think it's a spiritual gift. So yes, I mean, you know, each ones gotten a little better, not necessarily in severity. I mean, you know, they have improved the surgery since 13 years ago. But the point of the matter is, is that each one I've gotten a little better with. And I'm really not afraid. That's the incredible thing. I'm not afraid. You know, I'm very practical individual, you know what I mean? If my hip is shot, I.

Want them to give me a new hip? You know, I had a friend named Riley Lunday who died on this program when he was 96 years old. He had three hip replacements. One of them failed. He didn't have three hips, but one of them failed. And and Rileys model was as long as they keep making spare parts, I'll keep on going. And that's kind of my motto.

I don't like it. I wish that there were lots of things I could do. You know, you're all going to spin class and I'm going to infant yoga. You know what I mean? But So what? So what we work with what we have and what I have is an awful lot. I'm a very lucky person. A very lucky person,

yes. How did this incident with the guy on the escalator play out?

It says in the 10 steps anytime we're upset, spiritual action if there's something wrong with that. But there are 10 steps involved in this and all. Well, sure, I went home and prayed and I felt bad about it, but what was I going to do? He stormed off. I stormed off. By the time I cooled down, he was gone, and so was I, You know, I mean,

look, and I also just forgave myself, you know, I was scared. I know what happened. You know, I reacted out of fear. He was a jerk. I was a jerk back, you know, end of story. I mean, you know, by the end of the evening, I was OK with it. What am I going to do? I'm a human being, you know, I couldn't promptly admit I was wrong because I was too mad. And by the time I was ready to admit I was wrong, he was gone. So what am I going to do?

OK, I'll tell you what. I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to tell you

I was wrong, OK? I'm sorry. I hope that I never tell you to go fuck yourself again.

I

Yes, John,

yes.

Sorry, has there ever been any depression? Yeah, there's been depression. I am prone to depression.

Not so much anymore. I mean, it's usually sort of a day thing. When I was about six years sober, I got something that I wanted really, really badly, the thing that I thought would always fix me.

OK, I, I'm not going to go into the particulars of it, but let's just say if there's something in your life that you think is going to fix you for good, you know, that woman, that motorcycle, that man, that whatever. OK. And I lost it. I lost it. And I plunged into a really deep depression. And a friend of mine, Frank Jeffrey, who's now dead, told me to go see this therapist, a guy named John Arnold, who is not in the program, who absolutely saved my life.