Personal Narrative: My Trip To An Alcoholic

Attending an AA meeting was intimidating at first, but it was one of the most moving and enlightening experiences of my life. I attended a meeting called the “Nooners Group” at the Serenity Club in Alexandria. The group had six men and one woman in attendance. The members were mostly white and were about 40 years or older. The group seemed to be in a middle or lower socio-economic level. The meeting started with several short readings. I was invited to read the AA preamble. Then, the group leader suggested reading a story from the ‘big blue book.” The story focused on a woman’s denial of her addiction and eventual acceptance of her alcoholism. After the reading, almost every person spoke about their own addiction and how it related to the story of the woman. After the time of sharing, the group held hands, said the AA chants, and recited the Lord’s Prayer. Afterwards, some group members lingered to interact and chat. I was so moved by the power of the meeting. At times, it felt very serious and emotional, but there were moments of levity, where the group would laugh or nod in agreement. Overall, the meeting was emotional, inspirational, and healing.

Growing up, I dealt with a mother who struggled with addiction; to be unambiguous, she was an alcoholic. She drowned in her alcoholism as it pulled her down an alarming road. She was dreadfully depressed and believed that alcohol was the only way to make her feel better, addiction blinded her from what a great life she could have ahead of her. Not a single member of our family knew how to help her comprehend how much happier she would be if she could stop drinking her sorrows away. When it came to family events, my mom would try to conform to how others were acting and act “sober” even though she was already countless drinks deep in to drinking. Nevertheless, my mother just wanted others to like her which would lead her to change her outward

When I walked into the meeting, I was a little apprehensive. It was only a small group of about ten people, which was held at a local hospital. Knowing that I had to explain I was there to observe as a student studying social work, I was worried that the participants would hold back from their real behaviors in the group and that they would be cold to me. However, that assumption could not have been farther from the truth. All my apprehension flew out the window, as the members of the small group all welcomed me with open arms. Apparently, these were regulars. Most in the group attended every meeting, and continued to use the support of the group to deal with the continuous chaos and trauma of living with an addict. I was welcomed to sit and observe the behavior of the individual members of the group express their grief, fear, and

The whole experience of attending this A.A meeting was enjoyable and fun. I enjoyed every aspect of it, especially the personal stories that many of the A.A members decided to share, because I personally feel that it takes plenty of courage to be able to speak in front of people about personal problems that you had to overcome. I felt a sense of empathy towards some of the members because the personal stories that they shared were really vivid. It made think about how at times we are quick to judge an individual without even knowing how their problems came to

Several drinks later the frustrations that had been coursing throughout my veins had ceased and were replaced with a sense of tranquility. The dispute between Audrina and me had been forcefully driven to the back of my conscience mind. I could vaguely hear the low hums from the granite countertop, but I was trying with every ounce of strength to remove the agitation from my ears. Audrina was fuming at the ears; she was in no mood to talk kindly to or about me at this point. I had never fully grasped her concept or hatred towards my drinking; I just knew she incandescently angered by it. Any chance she got the chance she would ramble with no end about the ‘negative repercussions’ that I would have to face. She would always go on about how my addiction had no benefactors for my body or my mind. She would always have this small crease that

I would like to start this paper out by saying many things will be left out in order to get this paper graded in a timely manner. Everything in this paper is told to the best of my ability to remember it however, I can not remember everything due to mind and mood altering substances and simple getting older and time passing.

“Pour me another shot!” I yell across the kitchen. I was already four deep but with each one, you gain a little more tolerance so why not make it five. Plus, being sixteen and getting completely obliterated means you are fitting in. This means people like you, even if that means they only like when they are drunk. My family approved of my drinking habits since they are raging full blooded southern Italians, in fact, that next shot I’m about to take is with my mom and about five of my coworkers from our family restaurant who are all under the age of twenty-one. Drinking as a minor was seen as normal as breathing in my home. You just didn’t think twice about it. My parents view on partying and drinking was something that confused me but I was not going to question it otherwise, it would probably get revoked.

Life seemed normal at first, I was a normal 14 year old boy in High School, but when I had my first sip of what seemed like the best thing in the world it was soon to be found out that i had an alcohol addiction that would then last for the rest of my schooling life. When me and my mates went to my brother's 18th birthday party everything went downhill we were slowly pushed into a circle and told to chug a fool 325mL of full strength beer from then on i was unstoppable i would then have another 5, 6 and lastly an eighth. When i leave the party someone shouts “have another one” but my mates held me back they knew something was wrong, my forehead was throbbing and an excruciating noise of a million drums rang in my head.Subsequently I hit the

“Where is your money for this month’s bills?”, my mother asks as she stumbles out of her room and into the kitchen. It was nine in the morning and judging by the look on her face, I could tell she had slept off the drunken beast from the night before. “It’s bill time, baby. You know the drill...”, she murmured. Waking up to mother’s financial concerns and the lurking smell of alcohol masking her body scent, I realize it is a new month but the same old thing. I was seventeen years old, working to help pay the bills; it was just my mother and myself. My family split apart in a span of about six months due to my mother’s history with alcohol. All that was visible to me was the pain and agony left behind for my mother and me to soak in. I dedicated myself to helping my mom in every way possible. While working a 35-hour work

I sit across from her, admiring her golden waves bouncing off her shoulders and her brown eyes eagerly telling the same story over.We share like best friends and laugh about the events from my day. I remember, my mom isn’t always this person with a contagious smile and witty come backs. I look at her and remember how disoriented, and sick she is. I see the best and worst of my mom, and the first in my family to understand. I remember the day I recognized  the horrifying disease she had. Alcoholism.

Hello beautiful person, my name’s Kylie, and I just can’t wait to meet you! I came into Caring Hands as stray that was extremely underweight. However since being here, I’ve started to gain weight. I’m a very friendly dog that gets really excited when I see people. Though sometimes I get to excited especially when I’m on a leash, and tend to choke myself, however a harness really helps prevent that. The harness also helps me walk without pulling so much. I was recently adopted but was returned because I could easily jump their four foot fence. So as a result I need a yard that has a taller fence, or someone who would willing to outside with me. For the few days that I was in my last home, I was crated when I was home alone, and did great, and

Immediately after the music interval, she conveyed her wishes to acquaint me with a true friend - the business owner - and guided me by the hand to the club’s rear, where an affable middle-aged man sat, seemingly entertained by the crowd. Then after the introduction, she leaned forward for an extended whisper in his ear, which in spite of the noisy crowd made me uncomfortable. To add into the unlikely behavioral habit, she consequently sat beside him, almost ignoring my presence. Now, though I was aware by own experience of the suspicion craft alcohol can sometimes play in our minds, whereas this was or not one of those occasions, due to my own past recollections, I couldn’t deem myself utterly drunk at the moment. So I decided to add some

t Alcohol is an addiction In which many take part in I when remember I started I was just 18 Party after party Drink after drink That's how I begun Slowly it turned into a habit

The summer before sixth grade, my mom became an alcoholic. At first, I began to feel as if I was drowning in the turmoil and alcohol of my house. The priority of my house was alcohol. Just when I lost my faith in adults, school began again. The structure that it provided, with clear rules, punishments, and meals saved me. Every morning, I was elated to spend hours in a building where I knew the adults were sober, the punishments only came when rules were broken, and my safety was a priority. As my mother's alcohol abuse escalated, and her boyfriend moved in with us, I began to devote all my time and energy to school and homework. When I heard a fight start between them, I opened a novel and blocked my entire house out. My adversity has driven

My ass should have been comatose... lol. The Next drunk episode was the Cali trip, the details are not important. What is important was the self-declaration that I had imposed upon myself. I made a promise to myself that this would be the last time I would allow myself to be shitfaced (extremely drunk) Trust me guys, I got seriously fucked up during my road trip and when I returned back home and I said that's it. In addition, I forgot to mention that I took the fucking Greyhound bus out there from NYC to Florida, then to Cali, then back to NYC. Never again, folks, I was like a fucking zombie after that trip...lol. Nevertheless, I was 33 years old, and to be honest with you guys I thought I would never make it past the age of 33 real talk.