FredG

Like most people, I started drinking for a few reasons.

I was very much a rebellious, social misfit, still am in many ways, but that didn’t stop me from trying to fit in.

I was extremely shy, to the point that I couldn’t carry on any type of conversation with any female and most males. This, of course, made these people want to talk to me even more, just to see me fall all over my tongue and make a total fool of myself.

I had an above average IQ and the school subjects that most kids struggled with, I excelled at. My mother being a school teacher in the same school didn’t help. The other kids just connected my high grades to the fact that she was a teacher and I was getting special treatment. Of course, I blamed her for all the troubles that caused at the time, even though, in retrospect, I know all she tried to do was help.

Knowing that I was thought of as a ‘nerd’, I set about proving that I wasn’t and since the goody-goodies didn’t want anything to do with me I tried to join the trouble makers to take revenge. My efforts provided them with many hours of enjoyment, throwing me in the sump hole behind our country school or tying me to the flag pole in my underwear.

Human beings are social animals, and I was no different. I tried, and failed, at everything I could think of to ‘join in’. I was desperate! And then I found what I thought was the answer.

I found that if I took a drink of my Dad’s home made wine, my self-confidence would sky rocket and my courage would be increased by magnitudes. In short, I could fit on the social ladder with anyone and even had the courage to talk to girls.

Wow, what a find! No wonder Dad drank! No wonder Dad was so powerful! When Dad got angry, people listened!

Dad had all sorts of friends, too. I’d seen them through the window of the bar when I was waiting for him out in the truck on one of the few occasions when I’d spent some time with him. His many friends would come over to his table, and he’d buy them a drink or two and then more would come. I could see from my vantage point, that he was truly loved.

Being 10, getting access to alcohol wasn’t all that easy, especially since Dad watched his stash pretty close. We lived on a farm with my Uncle and his family, making us a household of 15. This made Dad kind of watch things a little closer, but I found ways. Not often, but I found the holes and drank the equalizer, just like Dad did.

I developed a circle of friends too, just like Dad. I even thought that this would bring me closer to my Dad, which was something I longed for. In my mind, I succeeded. In my mind I was a better and certainly more accepted individual all around, and if there were some out there that didn’t accept me … tough ****. I was too good for them anyway.

In another attempt to get my dad’s approval and love, I joined the Canadian Armed Services at the tender age of 17. My parents gladly signed the consent form required, after all, it would make a man of me.

In the military, officially I was taught how to respect myself and others. Officially, I was trained as a radio operator, was whipped into top physical condition and taught how to fight. I was given a personal weapon (sub-machine gun) and trained in how to use it as well as just about every other personal weapon issued at the time, including assault weapons and hand grenades.

Un-officially, I was trained in ways to take my drinking to all new levels, use and distribute drugs, and how to con people so smoothly that they didn’t know they were conned.

I married my 1st wife in the military, when I turned 18, and was separated by the time I turned 19. Neither of us was ready

Around the time I turned 20, I sought, and received a compassionate discharge, thinking I could make a fortune outside on ‘civvy’ street with the new found skills I had received in the military. I still remember the laughter when I listed my skill-set at the Employment office. It was so out-dated that it was totally useless.

Many jobs and much drinking followed: I did road survey work on the road to Ft. McMurray, rig work around Hinton and spent some time with the Hudson Bay Northern Stores as a manager in Northern Saskatchewan and Alberta. Drove truck, stocked shelves, hauled feed, and the list goes on.

The final year was bad. To be honest, I’m not sure who, if anyone, I was working for. I know I lived in Barrhead, and I also know the local R.C.M.P. were trying to catch me for pushing.

During the last month I was staying in an old abandoned church on my parent’s property, when a friend and I started a Saturday afternoon off with a couple cases of beer and headed for a local dance.

I don’t remember getting there, I don’t remember dancing or even if I did. I do vaguely remember my friend and I deciding to head for Barrhead, about 15 miles away, for some food. I don’t remember getting there and I don’t remember eating. The next thing that I remember is arguing with an R.C.M.P. in Westlock, about 25 miles the other direction, about whether I’d rolled my truck. He said that I’d totaled it and I thought he was lying. The nice man charged me with Impaired Driving and let my parents rescue me.

Oh yeah, my truck! … I had indeed rolled it. Re-enacting the accident showed that I had been traveling back from Barrhead at over 80 MPH, went into a skid and literally flew off the highway. My front right wheel touched the back ditch embankment sending me into a twisting spiral, end for end. I then glanced off a power poll, knocking the power out for 50 miles around, and landed on my wheel at right angles to the highway. I apparently took out the windshield with my head. I DON’T REMEMBER ANY OF THIS! To this day, other than knowing that he lived, I DON’T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO MY FRIEND. This SHOULD have terrified me, This SHOULD have taught me enough of a lesson that I would have quit then and there. It DIDN’T.

One week later, my driver’s door wired shut, the roof of the truck pushed back out, the windshield taped in with duck tape, a six-pack of beer in my system, and 4 cases of beer tucked behind the seat, I was pulled over by the Barrhead Police. I proceeded to tell him, very drunkenly, how I knew my rights, and that there was no way in HELL, he could arrest me for the same charge in less than a week. Long story short, I spent the night in the cells, my parents wouldn’t rescue me and the thing that finally did it was thinking that I had been treated like an animal and VERY unfairly.

The morning I was released, I phoned a man I used to drink with, that I had been told was in A.A. He and his wife came to my place and talked to me most of the day. Frankly, I was still so hung-over, I don’t remember a lot of what was said that day, I just remember being really impressed that this man, who had been every bit as bad as me, was now sober. The fact that he and his wife seemed to totally glow with happiness, made me want what they had.

They took me to my first meeting that night. I remember it VERY well. The meeting was held downstairs in one of the professional buildings on main street in Barrhead. I remember coming up to the door and looking both ways to make sure that no one was watching me go in. I was very concerned that someone might see me go in and think that I was ‘one of them’, you know … an alcoholic.

I did eventually make it in but I don’t remember a lot about what was said at the meeting. I do remember that there was someone at the foot of the stairs that wanted to shake my hand. I wondered at the time, exactly what he wanted from me.

He also told me that I was welcome. I figured that he must be from some town far enough away that he didn’t know me, because if he did he sure wouldn’t welcome me there. It turned out that he wasn’t the only one from out of province, because there were several others that welcomed me as well.

When I asked to speak I became embarrassingly tongue-tied reminding me of my school days. Bob C. put his hand on my shoulder and said that I didn’t have to say anything if I didn’t want to. So I didn’t.

At the end, I remember wanting to bolt, but as I was headed for the door, someone came up to me with a list of phone numbers. I was told that if I wanted to talk, about anything, anytime, to call one of them. I was told that I was welcome to return to the next meeting. Some of them even said that they would like take me to other meetings and all the time that this was going on I couldn’t get a handle on what they all wanted from me. NOBODY gave ANYTHING away free. NOBODY, after being around me once, wanted me to come back, unless they wanted something FROM me.

Bob C., the one that came to see me that first day, appointed himself as what he termed, my sponsor. He pretty much babysat me in those first days and told me many things.

One of the things that he told me was one of the little sayings that A.A. has all over the place, and that was destined to take on deeper meaning for me was: “If you don’t want to slip, stay out of slippery places”.

I had been reading the Big Book, and going to meetings for about 2 weeks when I ran into a ‘friend’ that said he needed to talk to me. He was headed to the bar and asked me to join him just for a little while. So, wanting to help him, I did.

We went to the bar at about 11:30 AM, and we talked. At around 5 PM I was still drinking Pepsi’s and we were still talking, except by then a lot more people had joined us. Jugs of draft, lined the tables.

I was heavy into conversation with someone and without thinking I downed my Pepsi, poured myself a glass of draft and sank that too. I had had no intention of doing so, but …..

That was March 21, 1978. I proceeded to get drunk, but you can bet I was on Bob’s doorstep the next day. Hung-over and sheepish. Embarrassed, remorseful and guilty.

Bob didn’t say anything, even though I expected to be blasted. He and his wife both gave me a hug and told me it happens and that I should learn from it. Suffice it to say I did since that date is my sober date.

I was extremely lucky on the 2 impaired charges as far as the courts were concerned. The judge had been informed somehow on my intention to change my life and handed out a sentence of a 1 year license suspension. I had expected and was prepared for a much heavier sentence.

Now that my head was clearing, I started to be bothered by my first impaired though. The fact that I couldn’t remember driving around Barrhead was eating at me. Had I hit anyone? Was the phone suddenly going to ring to inform me that I had hurt or killed someone’s child? It took some time before I started to relax a little and realize that the supreme judge had handed out a lenient sentence as well.

My sponsor kept me busy in the program for the next bunch of days. Meetings, more meetings and in between we had mini meetings at his shop.

He had me do my step 4 within my first few weeks in the program. He said that it was necessary to know where I was starting from before I could move forward. He said that when he took over his shop, he had to count all the good stock on hand, but he also had to check for stock that was useless and also for stock that he could use but had to be cleaned up. So when I did my inventory, I needed to look at the good things about myself as well as the bad and also the things that were OK but needed to be improved upon. I’ve since learned that the best way to do this is to set myself up at a desk, with a mirror in front of me, start writing and every now an then look up at the problem.

My Higher Power was another hurdle. I had been brought up Protestant, but I was defiantly agnostic. I was told, “Use the group, a light bulb, or your Sponsor”. These worked for a while. My sponsor was first … until he wasn’t around when I needed him. Then came the light bulb …it burned out while I was talking to it. (Yup, still insane).

One day at a meeting we were talking about God and I said that I neither believed nor dis-believed. If someone could show me proof either way, that’s the way I would go. My sponsor got up without a word and placed a beautiful flowering plant in front of me and said, “Show me someone that can make something this beautiful and make it live and I’ll call them God”. There was my proof – man can duplicate life but he can’t initiate it. I came to believe that He’d been there all along.

I did a lot of my step 9 during my first year in the program. I made peace with my parents and some of my family although I have one sister that still, to this day, can’t forgive me. I tried to contact everyone that I could think of that I could make amends to without hurting them or their families, but Step 9, is a long term step. It can take years. I just had to be willing to take advantage of opportunities when they presented themselves.

Well it’s been 12,501 one day at a times, or 1,080,136,784 sober heartbeats, and by working the steps as they’re laid out I have a relatively happy life. The statement, “My worst day sober today, is by far, better than my best day drunk back then”, is very true.

God (as I choose to understand Him) has been very generous to me. He kept me close when I was drinking. Prevented me from dying in suicide attempts, both intentional and drink induced. Kept me alive in freezing temperatures when I hit the ditch drunk and passed out.

He then went on to show me how to get better so that I could help Him in His future endeavors. He gave me Bob C.

When I had given up any hope of finding the right woman, He directed me to one that I’m married to now. A woman in the program, with both inner and outer beauty.

He gave me a good paying job. One that has taught me a lot of things. Tolerance being one of the biggest lessons.

He gave me real friends that I don’t have to buy things for in order to keep them around. Ones that I can talk to without fear of being ‘stabbed in the back’ when I’m not looking.

He gave me this site, just recently, to get me off my complacent butt, learn more about myself, and reach out to others where I can.

My first sponsor, Bob C. pointed out the promises in the Big Book early on in the program and told me that they would come true, if, and only if, I worked my program. The harder you work it the more they will come true. God will help.

I’m sorry to say, that I lost track of Bourbon Bob C. from Barrhead, over the years, but if this story makes its way to you Bob - You were right - It works if you work it. I’m alive, I have serenity (most days) and I have a little of what you had all those days ago. Thanks for the Program –

Hope this helps someone see that it's really worth it

Fred