Bad Coffee and Good People
one alcoholic's two years sober

My name is Walt, and I'm an alcoholic. If you've ever been to a meeting you know that's how we start. I'm 44, I run a small drywall business in Oklahoma, and on August 30 of this year I picked up my two-year medallion in a church basement that smells like floor wax and about ten thousand pots of coffee.

I sign my first name and last initial because that's how we do it in the program. We keep our anonymity in public, and the Internet sure counts as public. Also, this page is not AA. It's just one drunk's page. AA doesn't endorse anything, including me.

How it was

I started drinking in high school like everybody I knew. By my thirties it was every night, and by forty it was every morning too, just to stop the shakes so I could hang a straight board. I lost my first marriage to it. I got a DUI in 1996 and told everybody it was bad luck. I was good at telling people things.

What finally cracked me open was small. In July 1997 my daughter, who was fifteen then, got out of my truck at a stoplight and said she'd walk home. It was a mile and a half and it was ninety-five degrees. She walked it. I sat in that truck and knew.

What changed

I had my last drink on August 29, 1997. The next morning my brother drove me to the hospital, and I spent four days in detox. I want to say something important here, and I'll say it plain:

The Thursday after I got out, I walked into my first meeting. I sat in the back by the door so I could leave. An old retired pipefitter named Earl, twenty years sober, sat down next to me, handed me a styrofoam cup of the worst coffee I ever tasted and didn't say a word until it was over. Then he gave me his phone number on a napkin. He's been my sponsor ever since.

How it is now

I'm not cured. There's no such thing. I still go to three meetings a week, I still call Earl, and I still have days where I drive past my old bar slower than I need to. But I have two years of mornings I remember. My business is doing better than it ever did, mostly because I show up. I've gone around and made amends to a lot of people I hurt, which was the hardest thing I've ever done and the most freeing. And my daughter, who's seventeen now, rides in my truck again. She picks the radio station. I let her.

I've got a guy I sponsor now, too. Earl says helping the next guy is how you hang on to it yourself.

I wrote down the stories that go with each of my chips and coins, from the first 24 hours to two years. You can read them here.

If you think you might have a problem

• You probably wouldn't be reading this if you didn't wonder. That's all right. Wondering is how I started too.
• AA is free. No dues, no fees, no sign-up sheet. All you need to walk in is wanting to quit.
• Look up Alcoholics Anonymous in the white pages. Most places have an office or a hotline that can tell you where and when the meetings are. Every town I've ever worked in had one.
• Meetings marked "open" are for anybody, including family and people who are just curious. "Closed" meetings are for people who want to stop drinking.
• There are even meetings online now, in chat rooms and by e-mail. They're not the same as a room full of people, but they helped me on nights I couldn't sleep.
• Talk to your doctor. Tell them the truth about how much. They've heard worse, I promise.

If you love somebody who drinks

My ex-wife went to Al-Anon, which is for families and friends of alcoholics. There's Alateen for the kids. I didn't understand it then. I understand it now. You can't make somebody quit, and it's not your fault they drink. Take care of yourself. Al-Anon is in the phone book too.

If you want to talk, drunk to drunk or just person to person, write me. I'm not a counselor, I'm just a guy who got lucky and got help. [email protected]

people have stopped by since my first year
Last updated September 1, 1999
Walt R.