A different kind of sobriety

Emotional sobriety. What was that? I was hearing a lot about spirituality in AA and now emotional sobriety? I figured it meant more work on myself. More honesty in looking at my behavior. I needed an explanation. The essay, "Emotional Sobriety" by Bill Wilson, one of the founders of Alcoholics Anonymous, explained it. I have read that essay probably twenty times since I discovered it. Several times to myself and once to each sponsee I have had. Yep. Just as I figured, I needed more work on me to be emotionally sober.

Members of AA who haven't worked the steps are usually not emotionally sober. They are what is referred to in AA as "white knuckling" it. People, like my dad, who stopped drinking but didn't work the steps so he harbored resentments, anger, self-pity and all the rest of those mind states that keep us in an emotional prison. I wanted out.

Bill Wilson writes "Those adolescent urges that so many of us have for top approval, perfect security and perfect romance - urges quite appropriate to age seventeen - prove to be an impossible way of life when we are at age forty-seven or fifty-seven." The good news for me reading this essay was that I wasn't the only one with inappropriate urges or Bill Wilson would not have addressed this issue. Hallelujah. I am reminded of a member who on taking his four year sobriety chip said to all of us at that meeting, "You guys get me." Bill Wilson "gets me."

Several years ago I ran into a woman from the church I was attending at that time. I admired her. I wanted to be like her: gracious, generous with her time and her money (she was rich), loving to all, open minded and happy. When she saw me, she said, "Patricia, I really like you." I said to her, "But I want you to like me better than anyone else." She smiled her sweet smile. A smile of compassion and understanding, patted my arm and walked on. I was so disappointed.

One of my therapists told me, "No man will ever love you the way you want to be loved." I wanted a knight in shining armor. A man who would pledge his life to providing me perfect security, perfect romance, and top approval. A man who would die for me if necessary. My therapist was right. I remind myself of that truth frequently. Especially when my husband disappoints me. Like the time we picked up his son from the Buffalo airport. I asked Ron if I could drive the truck to our hotel. He said, "Sure." But when his son got off the plan and asked if he could drive the truck, my husband said, "Sure." I was seething. I was ready for divorce and would certainly notify him of our impending parting of ways the next morning. There was something special about that truck.

Yes, I had those adolescent urges. My biggest fear for years was that I would wind up a bag lady. A woman slowly pushing an old shopping cart filled with all her belongings down the street incurring the disdain of others. I even had nightmares of me and that shopping cart. One of the reasons a teaching career appealed to me was it offered a pension for life: translated near-perfect security.

My first husband married a woman who lived with her interesting, flamboyant mother. My sister, Sondra, liked to talk with this woman whom I despised for no other reason than she was the mother of my ex-husband's new wife. How adult is that? One night my ex called to tell me something which I don't remember. I do remember he mentioned my sister was visiting his mother in law at the time we were talking. I flipped. I had a temper tantrum. I will never forget the agony, the hate that surged through my body. My sister betrayed me. I was so miserable and angry that I wouldn't talk to my sister for three days. How dare she go visit the mother of my ex-husband's wife. She was supposed to be on my side and have nothing to do with my former husband or his family. I hated her.

Bill Wilson writes that emotional sobriety is "real maturity and balance." When I read this essay several years ago I had on the bookshelf in the den David Richo's book, How to be an Adult. I bought it long before I had even heard of Bill Wilson or alcoholics anonymous. I knew way back then I needed help on being an adult. I didn't know at the time why I had difficulty being happy. Maybe a book would tell me. Maybe many books. When I packed up boxes of books I wanted to give away, that was one book I would not give away. I have read it more than once. I still need reminders every day on how an adult would act in certain situations. Attendance at my meetings has also helped me grow up.

Bill Wilson realized his "basic flaw had always been dependence" to give him the prestige and security that he demanded. I used to introduce my husband as, "This is Ron, my self esteem." Really. He was loving and supportive which helped me develop self esteem as did the meetings of AA. It is often said to newcomers to AA, let us love you until you can love yourself I have learned to love myself.

Mr. Wilson concludes his essay by sharing that we must break free of "paralyzing dependences" in order to know what loving as an adult really is. He compares it to living the St Francis prayer. Giving love, not demanding it. That's how I want to live. It just feels so darn good.