It only seems like smoke and mirrors when smoke and mirrors are all you’re expecting. I’m afraid this program might be a trick; one that only works if I choose to believe. Like conjuring Tinkerbell. Does the light go out when I stop clapping?

A Month of Promises (pages 83-84), the coda: Are these extravagant promises? We think not. They are being fulfilled among us – sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. They will always materialize if we work for them.

What I was like, and what it used to be like: Once alcoholism became understood as a fact in my life, years before I seriously got into the program, I began working one endless con. I was also being worked by an endless con, but that only seemed fair. I played 3-card Monty to an empty apartment. I’d say I had spaghetti for lunch when it was chicken. I created elaborate tales of rationalizations and justifications that were completely unnecessary, all for the sake of somehow leveling things in my own mind. No one else cared, because there was nothing to care about. My disease was pithing my reality.

What it’s like now: I still have the occasional night terrors. Every now and again that old alcoholic magic still catches me late at night reaching for my hat and cane. And I still get caught up in the r&j’s.

Today: I understand that yes, this program is all about faith. But it’s also all about work. And whenever I remember that, and put it into practice, it transforms into hope.


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