Restored to reality—rather than sanity—he finds his true path
When I arrived at the rooms, I was broken in innumerable ways in every aspect of my life. I just wanted to learn how to control my drinking and be normal.
But as I went to more meetings I soon began to see that everything would have to change and drinking was something I’d have to totally give up on a daily basis.
I asked a fellow AA, Jerry, to be my sponsor as was suggested and he started to lead me through the Steps. Going through the First Step was fairly easy for me. Honestly it took a little time, but soon I saw the light as to how my life had become unmanageable.
Then came Step Two.
I balked and dug my heels in. Why? Because of one simple word: sanity. I knew in every particle of my being that I was not insane. I had lived with insane, breathed it and experienced it firsthand. I wasn’t sharing why I felt his way with Jerry; I simply was outwardly showing stubbornness that began to cause an issue between us.
Finally after a period of time, Jerry’s comment was that I’d have to tell him what was going on or our sponsor/sponsee relationship would end. So I told him and now I’ll tell you.
I was born in 1954 when my parents were in their early 40’s. In 1959 my mother started to exhibit signs of mental illness. During 1960-61 my home life went downhill. I would be locked in a cedar-lined closet for up to eight hours, tied to chairs. I was also tied to the tree in the backyard so I wouldn’t go to my friend’s house to play. As time progressed so did my mother’s illness, which meant her actions got worse as well. Many of the events that occurred I simply can’t describe here. I seriously doubt if my father knew of these behaviors or maybe the inevitable could have happened sooner rather than later. But finally, at the beginning of 1962, my mom was committed to the State of Ohio’s hospital for the “Feeble Minded,” a euphemism for the state mental institution.
This was a forbidding looking building, gothic in nature. Four stories tall, heavy steel doors, substantial wrought iron bars on the windows, guys in white coats roaming the grounds with billy clubs. Something straight out of a Steven King novel or “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.”
Inside was worse. Thick doors that were locked at the end of every hallway, people strapped to chairs or beds in the corridors in straitjackets or other types of restraints, the nurses in starched white uniforms, the constant hum from the intense lights, and the smells of human waste everywhere.
My weekly Sunday afternoon visits to see my mother were intense. To see her with her hair standing on end, eyes wide open, never blinking, drooling like a rabid dog; this was my experience of insanity! All of the experimental drugs, electro shock treatments took their toll on her life as well as ours. This was true insanity. So, as I told Jerry, I didn’t have a problem with sanity.
Jerry was taken aback to say the least. Leaving that Saturday morning after sharing this, I had the sense of imploding on the inside. My world that I kept so secretive was unraveling before my eyes
Thank God for my grand sponsor! Jerry reached out to him with my dilemma and for advice. Being a licensed clinical psychologist he told Jerry to simply change the word “sanity” to “reality!”
It then made sense to me.
“Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to reality”
That was the key! Although the Higher Power concept was somewhat foreign to me, I was able to see, grasp and most importantly accept this notion. The ideas of Step Two started to fall into place and within a couple of weeks I was moving forward again with my recovery.
Unfortunately this whole thing reared its head again during the Ninth Step and making amends. I had carried so much distain, actually hatred for my parents for so many years, because of those two and a half years plus subsequent years of illness, I’ve had to make seven trips to the cemetery to talk to them.
But I’ve come to accept that they did the best they could do at the time with what they had. They didn’t do this with malice in their hearts nor clear minds. My mother’s mental state controlled everyone’s lives and we all paid a debt for it. My dad didn’t have the wife he once married, my brother and I were robbed of a woman who was at one time loving and caring plus nurturing and the world lost a wonderful elementary school teacher.
Today when working with sponsees I tell them what I went through and bring up the issue of “sanity” and “reality.” Today I feel so blessed that I can share about my life without a sense of doom or regret. I consider this real tangible growth in my program.