Any drunk will do. I don’t have to sit at the feet of a wizened old timer. I don’t need to be directed to the exact page in the Big Book that addresses my particular problem. Hell, I don’t even need sage advice. Nope. All I need is an alcoholic, any alcoholic, who is willing to sit and listen and share his own experience. Somehow by telling another alcoholic exactly what’s going on with me, the problem begins to melt away.
Pride keeps me stuck in the problem. Pride keeps me from picking up the 500 pound phone and asking for help. Pride wants you to believe I am special, unique and different. Pride has me pretending I have it all together—that I can solve any problem. Even though I find it hard to ask for help, I force myself to do it anyways. I’ve learned the hard way that if something is bothering me and I don’t talk to someone about it, then ego wins. And every time ego wins, ego gets stronger. Talking to another alcoholic about what’s going on right-sizes me and invites God back into the center of my life.