My Trust is in God
If a vote were taken, I think that the most beloved character in the Big Book might be the Jaywalker. That hunch is based on the grins, laughter, and head-nodding I see in my meetings whenever that character is mentioned.
The man I used to be died on May 7, 2009. As I was speeding down the passing lane of a St. Louis Interstate, my eyes were filled with tears and my hands were clenched in fists of rage as my choked up voice screamed in agony and disbelief. I was only seconds away from yanking the steering wheel hard to the left to send my car into the cement wall median in an effort to end my life.
Yes, my mother once stabbed me. I was probably 15 years old when it happened. I am now 72. I could never use the word “stab” until I had been sexually sober for many years in SA.
As a loner in the southwest of the UK, I had been accustomed to keeping in close touch with other members of the fellowship in the British Isles by phone. However, in the Summer of 2011, I became even more of a loner. I moved to China to work for some months.
I first came to SA on November 27, 1992, and I’ve been sober ever since. When someone asks me what I’ve done to stay sober, my answer is always the same: “I don’t know. I did not do it; I have a Higher Power who shows me that He can do it.” I thank God every day for my sobriety—but I’m in a very hard place today.
