Early on in my relationship with a very charming man who did not wind up being my husband, we visited the quaint town of Galveston, Texas.


In his desire to treat me to the best, he took me to a lovely French restaurant. The atmosphere was so thick you could cut it with a knife. The table cloths were long, and we’d had a long day, so I slipped my shoes off under the table assuming no one would notice.


My date was amused and somewhat dismayed watching the waiter bend to whisper something in my ear.


I blushed!


The waiter knelt to the floor beside me and then left.


My date was very interested in what had just happened. With an ear-to-ear grin, I told him, “The waiter asked if I wanted a pillow for my feet.” He looked under the table and … sure enough … a lovely little pillow with tassels and trim cradled my tired tootsies.


Needless to say, that waiter got a wonderful tip that night. My date didn’t do so badly either.



  • Judy Lee Thurber

Step 4 was an interesting journey for me. The first time I did it, I really didn’t have a concept of self honesty. The line … some of us are constitutionally incapable of being honest with ourselves … burned in my brain and in my heart. In my first attempt at the 4th step, I saw myself as the little white dove always being victimized. I took no responsibility for anything. I stayed sober, but I was not at peace.


On my second go at the 4th step, I was at the other end of the pendulum swing. I took responsibility for plenty of crap that wasn’t mine … the abusive parents, the violent ex, even the mean girls in high school. I thought of myself as the scum of the Earth. When I shared this with a sympathetic sponsor, she just looked at me and asked “really?” She was right, of course. I was not the devil incarnate.


Some time later, I decided that I really needed to do a fearless and searching moral inventory.


I accepted that there was a lot I couldn’t remember. I accepted that there were times when I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time … a side effect of my drinking. As the books suggest, I did an honest balance sheet looking at the good and the bad. With that sponsor’s help, I came to see that whether the times were good or bad, I always did the best I could. Sometimes that seemed woefully lacking, but the reality was that if I could have done better, then I would have done better.


I decided to resign from the “Miserable Society” and committed myself, as much as possible, to being happy. As the Promises say, “we came to see that no matter how far down the scale we had gone, our experience could benefit others.” That promise has saved my life and made all the difference in the world to me.


By the way, I pick up my 38 year medallion in 2 weeks :)




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Under those circumstances, you may not be able to, but consider the possibility of a life where alcohol is not the beginning and the end. If you can imagine it, then you can create it.


A successfully recovering alcoholic doesn’t try to avoid the substance or break a bad habit or create new habits. The success comes in creating a life where there is no need for escape. The addictive substance or behavior holds no allure because there is no need to be someone other than who you are.


If you address the possibility of recovery from that standpoint, then your question above becomes irrelevant.


Creating a new life around a person whom you love - that being yourself - is not easy, and it may require a good amount of therapy, meetings, support groups, journaling, gnashing of teeth, tears, and sincere changes of heart and mind … but it can be done.


My heart is with you.





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