Admit...ing

Step 1

ad·mit/ədˈmit/Verb
1. Confess to be true or to be the case, typically with reluctance.
2. Confess to (a crime or fault, or one's responsibility for it).

Admitted we were powerless over alcohol and that our lives had become unmanageable.

This is probably the most difficult step for all of us.

We come into the rooms broken. Battered. Half dead. Families torn apart. Lost our licenses. Lost our freedom. Lost our homes. Our jobs.

And we have lost all respect for ourselves.


Some of us come into the rooms because we just don't know what else to do. We have lost all hope. Become hopeless.
We are lost. We are nomads with no 'home'.
Not that we are homeless. Well some of us come into the rooms homeless.
But for most of us....there was no other answer than the rooms of AA.

Some of us come in because we are court ordered. I'll get to that part in another blog.

But for the most part...we enter this program looking for a way. Hoping to find a way to drink like a lady or a gentleman.

We come in and hope to sober up long enough to be able to get a handle on our drinking so that we can drink like everyone else.

Then we get to Step 1.

Admitting we are powerless over alcohol.
I gotta stop here. For me. I am a woman. A woman that has been pretty tossed about by life and by men and situations. And there isn't
a whole lot that I can say that I am powerless over. I mean I came from the "I am woman hear me roar" generation. Anything you can do I
can do better and get paid more for.

So to admit that I am powerless over anything is a real challenge and a struggle internally for me. To "ADMIT" is the operative word in this step.
At least it is for me today. THIS time around. I have to ADMIT. That means concede. Give in. Throw in the towel. Turn in my key. And that has taken
alot of work to come out of denial.

I was able really quickly to get to the point that I can ADMIT that I am powerless over the 'effects' of alcohol. Making me a victim of sorts. I mean I can't control the effect that alcohol has on my body. The truth is that I cannot control anything about alcohol. Not how it effects my body. Not how it messes with my spirituality. Not how it clouds my ability to think and use logic. I am powerless over the whole sha-bang. It was the admitting part that kicks my ass.

Look. I think for most of us...we have have this mental picture of the stereotypical drunk. Bottle of whisky in a brown paper bag. Dirty smelly clothes. Beard. Living under a bridge. No mental faculties left.

This is not me. YET. And it has taken me some time to reckon with my reality and myself and who and what I am. It isn't pretty. There isn't anything pretty about the word alcoholic. AND I told my sponsor that I would rather be known as an incest survivor (which I am) and wear that title gladly...but an alcoholic? That sucks.

To wrestle with my reality and what I walk in today. Alcoholism. It has been a slow crawl over broken glass where I WANT to go in and out of denial. I am...no I am not...I am....

It has become easier....and less traumatic for me to say....."Hi my name is____ and I am an alcoholic." I still don't like it at all. But the truth has got to seep into my bones in order for me to ever go forward in this.