I was lost, adrift in a place where I was consumed by a darkness so deep, I could no longer recognise the woman in the reflection. I was drowning in depression, addiction and deep anger, weighed down by a past that seemed to have no end.

Alcohol had become my refuge, my way to numb the pain and find a fleeting moment of peace. It blurred the memories of a childhood and a past marked by disappointment and betrayal. Alcohol allowed me to forget the truth of how broken I had become.

and mental illness was a disgusting crutch people used to avoid facing their responsibilities.

I told myself I was not like them, that I had the strength to handle everything on my own. After all, people like my father had abused me, used mental illness as an excuse, and I never wanted to fall into the same trap. How could I? How could I allow myself to become the very thing I despised? So I built walls, convincing myself that I could manage on my own, that I did not need anyone. But deep down, I was struggling with loneliness and depression. Alcohol became the escape. But alcohol stopped working.

The numbness faded, and I found myself sinking deeper. The weight of my unresolved pain pressed harder; it was poison. The hurt was still there, haunting me, creeping into my thoughts like an unwelcome shadow. I had lost myself entirely. I would drink to feel high, and when I felt that high, I needed it to last just one glass more.

For years, I blamed my father, my past, and everyone who had hurt me. But in the quiet moments, when the noise of my life would fade, I knew the truth I was not able to accept: I had become a prisoner of my own emotions and addiction. I was trapped in a vicious cycle of self-destruction, and I did not know how to break free.

That fatal glass would knock me out, and for the next few days, I would slump in bed, confused, guilt-ridden and insecure after the blackout. I was insane.

I had always believed that addiction was a synonym for weakness. Fear was the inability to be accountable,

And then, in what I can only describe as a moment of grace, I found Alcoholics Anonymous. I googled online for a rehab, for a professional to help me, and I chanced upon an AA meeting online.

Logging into my first AA Zoom meeting felt like stepping into an unreal world. I was cynical about whether the meetings would be helpful. I was apprehensive about the sharing. I was not even sure what it meant to be an alcoholic. The members started sharing, and when they spoke, I heard my own pain in their words. I saw my story reflected in their eyes.

There was no judgment and no condemnation, only acceptance. They welcomed me, broken as I was, and in that moment, I felt a glimmer of hope. Within that week, I attended an onsite meeting. I broke down and cried, comforted by the realisation that I was not alone.

Not long after, God, in His quiet but profound way, placed a sponsor in my path. This person became the key to my understanding of the AA program. My sponsor was not just a guide, but a friend, a constant source of encouragement and a firm advisor when needed.

My sponsor helped me see that my addiction was not just about alcohol but about everything beneath the surface: the wounds, the insecurities, the unresolved pain. I had a bodily reaction to alcohol, one that, when triggered, would always pull me back into addiction.

The sharing from the different members helped me make sense of the condition and this propelled my understanding of the complexity of my addiction, which is rooted in my history, experiences, beliefs and maybe even inherited tendencies. But, with God’s grace and the support of AA, I found the courage to confront and work through it.

I have made peace with the fact that my addiction will always be a part of me, but it does not define me. It is hard to come to terms with the fact that the wounds I carry, the scars from my past, will no longer control me. But the program gives me the strength to continue to move forward with sobriety as my anchor and God’s guidance as my

Deep down, I had been searching for a safe place where I could feel accepted and understood. A space where I could heal and grow. AA provided that. It created a safe space within me, and through its structure and fellowship, I found direct access to God. This was my greatest gift, as I had lost that connection when I turned to alcohol. In my wildest dreams, I never expected God to be so gracious, to take me back the moment I admitted how weak I truly was.

compass. And the bonus is the new community He has already put in place for all of us, over 90 years ago. Today, as I reflect on my fourth- month anniversary in AA, I am filled with gratitude. I know I still have a long way to go, but I am no longer afraid of the journey. I am no longer ashamed of my past. I am learning to love myself again, to forgive myself, and to trust in the process.

The program has taught me that while I am powerless over alcohol, I am not powerless over my recovery. I have a choice each day, and with the tools that AA has given me, I am learning to build my life anew.

I am vigilant in my sobriety, knowing that each day is a gift, and with each step forward, I am becoming the person I was always meant to be.

AA has given me the safety and strength I’ve longed for, and through it, I am learning to embrace the freedom that comes with true healing.

The attention and sharing made me cry My name is Ari and I am 64 years and loss of respect and confidence. I was consistently taking antidepressant old. My drinking started in my early There was a no-hope attitude in my pills and it helped. But I mixed that with 20s. family – my wife and two kids. alcohol and kept relapsing. I was diagnosed with depression I managed to work for the next five After excuses, justification and and alcoholism in my 40s. I came to years, drinking on and off and relapses, I am now committed to AA be aware of AA and its 12 steps 20 controlling it somewhat, as long my and its 12 steps, especially step 1 years ago. I had several relapses wallet had money. After a romantic and step 12. I am a newcomer! and this time, with one year and six experience, I ended up drinking months, I am still a newcomer. with no control. Ar The first time I attended a full I sought refuge in a halfway house capacity meeting at Damien Hall, for the next six months because I the attention and sharing given to could go not go home and didn’t me made me cry. Six months later, I want to spoil relationships, as they relapsed. Not knowing what it were worse by then. means, I made a geographical move to do with something about my career. I felt disappointment, failure Daily Reprieve Q1 2025