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Davi W-D

I got sober.

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Davi W-D
Posted (edited)

Very first ever A.A. meeting was 23 Sep 1975. Back room of a seedy diner on Hampton Blvd in Norfolk VA.


Here is the "WHY".

 

I had finished a 96 hour liberty that my supervisor had given me so I could go out and celebrate my freedom because the woman that made me a man (I didn't figure this out until I had a second marriage fail about 14 years later. But, I stayed sober.) had divorced me.

 

I had gone to medical because I was passing blood from both ends and after he weighed me (126#) the Corpsman asked me how much I drank. I lied, "Just a little." He told me he thought I had 3 choices. 

1. Stop drinking and keep eating and live.

2. Keep drinking and end up squirting baby food into my intestines through a tube in my side.

OR

3.  If I was lucky, I would die quick.

 

I said, "I don't know how to live without drinking." My very first bit of self honesty..

He replied., "Then I guess you are going to die."

"I don't want to die." and he handed me a business card with a Circle and Triangle on one side and a hand written phone number on the other side and said. "Call that number and some will either tell you where to go or come get you and take you to a place where you can find out how to live One Day At A Time without drinking."  

 

I made the call and when I found out where I had to go, I asked for a ride because I had another bit of self honesty. I knew there was no way I could get past 3 miles of strip joints, peep shows, honky tonks, dance halls, show bars, and hookers. Get the movie The Last Detail to see what I am talking about.

 

Here is HOW I was convinced I was an Alcoholic.

 

It was a candle light meeting of WWII and Korean War veterans and everyone except me and another guy the driver picked up were OLD and missing body parts.

I do not remember anything that was said, but, I do remember that everyone seemed happy!!

 

Old and missing body parts and they were happy?? 

 

At the end of the meeting they read the following. 

 

FOR MOST normal folks, drinking means conviviality, companionship and colorful imagination. It means release from care, boredom and worry. It is joyous intimacy with friends and a feeling that life is good. But not so with us in those last days of heavy drinking. The old pleasures were gone. They were but memories. Never could we recapture the great moments of the past. There was an insistent yearning to enjoy life as we once did and a heartbreaking obsession that some new miracle of control would enable us to do it. There was always one more attempt -- and
one more failure.
The less people tolerated us, the more we withdrew from society, from life itself. As we became subjects of King Alcohol, shivering denizens of his mad realm, the chilling vapor that is loneliness settled down. It thickened, ever becoming blacker. Some of us sought out sordid places, hoping to find understanding companionship and approval. Momentarily we did -- then

would come oblivion and the awful awakening to face the hideous Four Horsemen --Terror, Bewilderment, Frustration, Despair. Unhappy drinkers who read this page will understand!  

 

 

I Understood!!!

Do You??

What convinced you??

To Be Continued with HOW I got sober.

Edited by Carolyn Marie
replaced all caps b/c it's the equivalent of shouting.

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Davi W-D

I WAS SHOUTING..

 

Shouting the good news that someone does NOT have to be living under a bridge to be an alcoholic. (or addict) You don't need to be a DUI felon. You can be someone in purely powerful mental and emotional turmoil and denial.

 

The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous 1st and 2nd Edition (what I started with) has places where they used all caps because they were shouting the good news or to simply get the attention of those living in denial.

 

Quote

FOREWORD TO THE FIRST EDITION (Also in the 2nd Edition)
This is the Foreword as it appeared in the first printing of the first edition in 1939
WE, OF Alcoholics Anonymous, are more than one hundred men and woman who have recovered from a seemingly hope less state of mind and body. To show other alcoholics PRECISELY HOW WE HAVE RECOVERED is the main purpose of this book. For them, we hope these pages will prove so convincing that no further authentication will be necessary. We think this account of our experience s will help everyone to better understand the alcoholic. Many do not comprehend that the alcoholic is a very sick person.
And besides, we are sure that our way of living has its advantages for all.

 

Quote

From the 2nd Edition

AFTER ALL, OUR PROBLEMS WERE OF OUR OWN MAKING. (Through my denial.) BOTTLES WERE ONLY A SYMBOL. BESIDES, WE HAVE STOPPED FIGHTING ANYBODY (especially myself) OR ANYTHING (my desire to be who I am). WE HAVE TO! (I was killing myself and I didn't even know it. I went on, even in sobriety, even after I had transitioned,  to unknowingly try to kill myself 2 more times until people that cared about me yelled at me to get my attention and break my denial.)

 

Denial is after all the the root cause of "gender dysphoria".  So I shouted that I understood and shouted asking if someone else understood in the hope of breaking their denial.

 

Dysphoria (from Greek: δύσφορος (dysphoros), δυσ-, difficult, and φέρειν, to bear) is a profound state of unease or dissatisfaction. In a psychiatric context, dysphoria may accompany *depression, anxiety, or *agitation. 

How are those words different from these??

Terror, Bewilderment, Frustration, Despair

 

My protégés.

I have the honor of having 3 "MTF transexuals" (One with grave emotional and mental disorders like me) that are staying sober. Two for over 10 years (One of those was sent to me by the people at her first meeting who had a total of nearly 200 years of sobriety who decided that I was the perfect person to be her role model for recovery. I could not refuse to work with her.)  and one coming up on five (She lived in her using as a woman. She still has unrealistic beliefs (denial) about what it means to be a woman so she currently lives as a "gay male" killing herself with food. Another of my attempts at death.)

I also have a recovering "white supremacist, gay basher" as a protégé coming up on 11 years and he attends the local once a week "gay AA meeting" with the others. He also has early onset dementia and diabetes related hearing loss so he tends to forget that the rest of us don't need for him to talk very loud to hear him. We understand though that the he talks loud so he can hear himself and maybe not forget how to stay sober.

I have 2 protégés with HIV.

All of them have screamed at me and I have screamed at them and we are all staying sober with the help our individual HP's. Recovery isn't a calm, gentile, quiet process.

I have an FTM, that has unrealistic beliefs (denial) about what it means to be a "male"  that isn't staying sober. She refuses to scream about anything. Thinks that is the sign of being a "bad male".

I have an in the closet either lesbian or bisexual women with grave emotional and mental disorders (like me) that is not staying sober because of her religion induced, (like some of mine) denial. I didn't get past my denial until I was willing to scream at "god". I have hope for her since she has started to scream at me asking me if I think I am "GOD" and when I loudly and firmly say "NO! I am just an alcoholic that is willing to scream at the "god" that was forced on me as a child and it is ok for you to do that too.". She says I am screaming. 

 

I have read several threads in this section that break my heart because the denial is being justified and reinforced by the other posters rather than pointed out.

 

When a child is darting into the street, do you whisper, "stop" to get their attention?

 

Sorry. I am old school AA. The book is my guide.

 

In the next section of my experience on getting sober, probably next week so people have time to digest this thread and maybe read the book,  I will tell the story of the old Marine Gunny Sargent that was missing a leg and how he gave me the instructions for how to get sober.

 

 

* Also words, in the BB. 

Respectfully Davi W-D

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VickySGV

Davi -- I need to refer you to our Site and Forum Rules http://www.transgenderpulse.com/community-rules/

as far as post composition and actions by Admins or Moderators that even us other recovering Alcoholic / Addict members follow.  Your enthusiasm and obvious love of the program is showing for sure.  One of our Moderators runs several on-line recovery meetings, including one in our own Chat area.  I will let them introduce themselves in the interests of Anonymity if they wish to.  I have stated that I am an Alcoholic above and I hope you will look back and see some of my posts over the years.  Our rules here are very much like the Traditions of AA in that they give us a ground plan that all can communicate and enjoy under.

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Charlize

    Welcome Davi.  My name is Charlize and i am an alcoholic.  I remember joining this forum some time ago.  I was fairly new in sobriety with 5 years but with the memory of seeing the "suggested steps" as being critical to living.  When i came here i felt the same way.  I tried to see the wisdom in the rules and eventually appreciated the environment where despite of differences between all the members there was a safety and chance to express oneself about issues long held in the closet.

     We do have a substance abuse meeting in the chatroom every Sunday at 9 eastern.  

There're also TGAA meetings on a list serve with audio, visual Zoom meetings run in a normal AA format 4 nights a week.  I especially enjoy that group where there is very long term sobriety as well as a few new comers who hopefully find some relief from the hell of addiction.

     I'm glad you have joined us here.  A great many trans folk have substance issues so the hand of AA reaching out is critical.

 

Hugs,

 

Charlize

 

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What piece of the crap pile do I start working on first?  I feel like "I just want to be normal", but it sometimes feels easier riding the wreck currently in progress. However, I want to be a real person again. Whatever that is. I want to have friends and do things. I want to not be in the outside watching the happy people go by. "I want to go home" so to speak. Even though, I've never really had a home or place I felt safe in. But it's a nice thought. One day.   You see I wasn't raised with any freedom to be different. On the contrary there has been a lot of work done on me to suppress and deny my identity for the ease of those around me. Not to dwell on the trauma, but for an idea of what I was put though, things like kneeling on rocks in a hidden room under the stairs with no lights to learn that "ADD is just in my head", or "Youth Groups" at church that focused on "shaming the gay" out of us were common in my life.  Honestly, I ate it up. Mostly because of the biggest catalyst to this cause, my mother and her favorite saying, "You'll never understand a mother's love. I could love you through anything... AS LONG AS YOU'RE NOT GAY." Well poop. I didn't want to lose my mother's love, so from an early age I became a master of macho and over compensation. Me gay? No. NO. I LIKE BOOBS. Ya, and trucks and guns, etc. You know the jig. Copy, paste, repeat, here I am on the edge of tomorrow and the mask doesn't fit anymore.  It's just so bloody hard to stop the knee jerk reaction of "being the man" and putting the mask back on. I've buried over my feminine instincts, beaten them down, beaten myself down and when that wasn't good enough, I've given the world at large a pliable floor mat to trod on. It's driving me bonkers. I'm sorry but I've carried a lot of pain and frustration making straight people feel comfortable. What about my comfort? When will, "You're so gay!" not sound like, "I found one, get him!" Will I ever stop feeling like God hates me because I was to weak to stay straight? If this is going to disqualify me from Heaven then why should I care about any law or rule? By my nature, beyond my control, if I'm so repulsive to everyone else, what am I supposed to do all alone? It's nice to wax poetic and romanticize about living cottage life single, but every day, for the rest of my life??? Where can I go that a six foot five, two hundred and thirty pound chunk of mountain man can go around wearing a nice sundress and do a little spin because in his heart he's just a little girl? I have no one to "just be me with". Or even find out who that is.  The last thing my mom said to me was, "Well if you're gonna be gay then just go find a man and love him." The common theme in all our confrontations is "go". No matter what the fight has been over the years, "go" has been the underlying message. I never heard it until recently. I never heard the silent, "and don't come back." Once was all it took. Now, it all makes sense. It broke my heart and stole the wind from my sails. At least "faking it for Mom" gave me a cause. Now, what can I make of what's survived. I wish it were that easy. Sounds simple, "Just go find a man and love him." LoL I wish she knew there is more than "Straight and Gay". I mean, like, what do I do on the days that I feel like a woman who likes women that have man parts too?  I'm assuming you can relate to the rabbit holes of thought that can arise here. Bottom line, I don't have to fake it for Mom anymore. She just plain don't want me in her life if I'm going to be me. I don't care what she thinks anymore, or anyone else for that matter. Or, maybe I still care but I'm ready to carry the pain and go forward. Regardless, as soon as I meet any one new, I'm well down the road of lies and cover stories, trying to present the "just a normal guy" routine before I even notice.  Sometimes it's not from lack of desire to be myself. Often it's just because it is so much work "being a normal queer". At home, I don't have to explain me to me. If I'm girly, I'm girly, if I'm macho, I'm macho. It's all a part of me.  So saying something like, "I'm gay" or "I'm transgender" feels as weird as saying I'm straight or binary. I'm just Claire (the name I chose for the "Her" in me.) If anyone took the time to get to know Claire or Claybourne (my given boy name) they'd know that my sexual identity is only a piece of me. Like how I'm a hiker, or a cook or like to knit. I don't run around saying, "I'm a hiker." I say, Hi, I'm Claybourne. If the conversation goes near the outdoors I might pop in, "I like hiking, I'm a hiker." Whether the other person likes hiking or not isn't a deal breaker to the conversation. Yet it seems like until someone knows your gender and sexual preference they reserve the right to consider your presence in their life. Why is the label such a thing? Why do people with static gender identities not understand how incredibly biased the world is for their benefit. Like, do straight people have to explain, "Well, I have a penis and only like sex in a vagina?" No. Why do I have to have a "briefing session" with everyone to explain concepts that aren't really that complex? Really, it's no one's business. But then, "Oh did you hear Claybourne came out?"  I think the whole coming out thing is a slap in the face to gender diversity. The fact that I had to declare to people, that the boy who was scared to go in to men's bathrooms, who watched more fashion television than a Trekkie binge watching Deep Space Nine on Netflix, who tucked his penis and sat to pee, who was an entirely flamboyant individual HAS GENDER IDENTITY ISSUES. Like, these people obviously knew. They saw in me things they did not like, they literally forced me to be different than my nature and now they want me to walk back in to their lives with a giant sign out for their convenience.  Argh, okay, by now if you're still reading you can see the layers and layers of stuff I have to go through. This whole new movement of freedom for people like me has me feeling I might have a chance. I see queer kids younger than me that have family and friends. I'm jealous. I was taught that we were going to burn in hell and that the mission was to exterminate the deviation known as queer. Here I am, hiding in the middle of no where, trying to limit the offence of my presence on my local world while I see so many queer people with so much in their life. I see queer people on TV crying about how hard their transition is, yet they're holding their mothers hand and their friends are saying spring things.  Did any of them have to serve their captors supper after climbing out of their shame boxes? Why did people I love do this to me? Why did they teach me I'm bad? So I'm done hiding. I came out.  Now it's just me.  Normally I have a never failing positive attitude. Since learning that my mom would rather I just stay gone, my bottom fell out. I always thought there was a reason for me hiding for her. I thought that if I made it easy on her at some point she'd get me back. Like, I could come home and have a family again.  It's not going to happen like that. She chose her man. She loves him. He hates queers. So ya.  I'm not sure what I'm really trying to say here.  Mostly it's another lonely sleepless night here in the middle of nowhere. I know things need to change because I think I'm just waiting to die now. Not that I'm suicidal. I just can't start the circle of faking it again and I have no resources to make a new start. I wanted to be a singer and a dancer. Or a fashion designer or a chef. I ended up doing hard labor jobs like working on oil rigs, digging trenches and making cellphone towers. I've lived on the streets or conditions that would be classified as homeless often. My body is beaten and my Soul is low. I used so much of my being trying to make a man my mother could accept. Between time left and body capabilities, what could I really do? Reading back I see the biggest thing I need are people and a place that I can feel safe as a gender confused person. Living in the middle of an oil patch, in the heart of Redneck Alberta, Canada is not a queer friendly place. The local counselors look at me like I'm the jackpot of cases. That say things like, "you'll be my first transgender client. I've been doing lots of reading and hope I can help." It's like some kind of badge on their resume. Five minutes in to a session I'm consulting them in the small but mysterious bits of queer culture I do have. Like, really? Is there any where I can go that has a history of working with gender issues? Yes, I have addictions issues too. I just feel I've fought the symptom long enough. I need to address the core.  Any help? Please. By the way, this was supposed to be an introduction post, so "Hi. I'm Claire" and Claybourne. I guess. This is my start.  See you soon. 😘
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