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Crisis changes people and turns ordinary people into wiser or more
responsible ones. Wilma
Mankiller Cherokee No words can tell
of the loneliness and despair I found in that bitter morass of self-pity.
Quicksand stretched in all directions. I had met my match. Alcohol was my
master. Trembling, I
stepped from the hospital a broken man. Fear sobered me for a bit. Then
came the insidious insanity of that first drink, and on Armistice Day
1934, I was off again. Everybody became resigned to the certainty that I
would have to be shut up somewhere, or would stumble along to a miserable
end. How dark it is before the dawn! In reality that was the beginning of
my last debauch. I was soon to be catapulted into what I like to call the
fourth dimension of existence. I was to know happiness, peace, and
usefulness, in a way of life that is incredibly more wonderful as time
passes. Big Book
pg. 8 Reprinted with
permission A.A.W.S. When we became
alcoholics, crushed by a self-imposed crisis we could not postpone or
evade, we had to fearlessly face the proposition that either God is
everything or else he is nothing. God either is, or He isn't. What was our
choice to be? Big Book
pg. 53 Reprinted with
permission A.A.W.S. Great Mystery make me strong that I may face my hardships.
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