The Things I Do
By Linda L.
I used to be a religious person, believed in god and everything. Thought about becoming a rabbi (probably mostly because I like to argue). Then I learned to drink, did it too much, and found AA.
That cured me. First of all, AA is so darn Christian, that I had to question what I heard. I had to learn to filter out Moonies and Jesus freaks in college, and then AA came along and really put me to the test; after all, this was a life-or-death thing.
So, I gotta find Jesus or I'll die? Fat chance, buddy. So I objected, and got the "ketchup bottle" lines in all their myriad variations. Pray to a ketchup bottle? Not likely. After all, what interest does a ketchup bottle have in my sobriety? For that matter, what interest does a god have in my sobriety?
Doubts, doubts, doubts. Read "Came To Believe" and that pretty well trashed my "spiritual journey". Hang in long enough, listen to enough sermons, actively participate in your own recruitment, and eventually you'll agree with us.
But I'd already had a perfectly good religion, and it wasn't theirs, so why was I going along with this? For that matter, if god was so darn concerned about my drinking or not drinking, why did I develop a problem with the stuff in the first place? Maybe, I figured, the whole thing has nothing to do with god, and everything to do with the things I do. Just lil' old me.
So, while I'm still looking for evidence that a god somewhere gives a **** about anything we bizarre organisms do, I have left the search on the back burner, behind the really important stuff, like laundry.