Something I heard today really got me thinking about a feeling I hadn’t given much thought to in a long time. It was a feeling that used to hit me every time my life had fallen apart—yet again—because of my drinking. Back then, I never connected the chaos to alcohol. In my mind, it was always something else, someone else, the circumstances, or just life being unfair. But now, with clarity, I see it for what it was. Alcohol had complete control over me, and I had none.
That feeling always surfaced after I had run back to my mum’s home—her sanctuary of love and unconditional acceptance. No matter what I had done, how bad things had become, or how lost I was, my mum and her God would always forgive me. After each downfall, I would spend a short time going with her to church, hoping for some miracle that would wash away my sins, lift the crushing weight of guilt, and finally make me whole. I longed for something to fill the void I felt deep inside. But instead of finding peace, I found only more emptiness, more frustration. My mind simply couldn’t accept the God my mum understood so effortlessly.
The feeling I recalled today was the one that would overwhelm me while sitting in my mum’s church. It wasn’t just her faith, happiness, or the deep, loving relationships she had that I envied. It was something more, something intangible. The people in that congregation seemed to have a kind of unconditional, non-judgmental love for one another, a bond that held them together no matter what. I saw it, I felt it, but I couldn’t grasp it. Time and again, I would find myself sitting there, surrounded by all these people, yet feeling completely alone. That crushing loneliness would build until I broke down in tears, consumed by a mix of sorrow, longing, and jealousy.
My mum believed these emotional outbursts were signs that the Holy Spirit had touched me, had restored me in some way. But that was never how it felt to me. I let her believe it, though—it made her happy. In reality, those moments only deepened my pain. That pain would fester, the longing would intensify, and inevitably, the cycle would begin again. I would reach for the only thing I knew that could momentarily dull it all: the first drink. And, as always, that first drink would lead to many more, dragging me right back to where I had started.
Today, I realised why I haven’t thought about that feeling in so long. It’s because I no longer have it. It disappeared a few months into my sobriety, and when I look back, I can see exactly when it started to fade. It was around the time I took my Step 3: “Made a decision to turn my will and my life over to the care of God as I understood them.” That was the moment everything shifted. Up until then, the fellowship of AA had been in my life, but I hadn’t fully let it in. Step 3 was the turning point. No more walls, no more running. I surrendered. I finally “Let Go, and Let God.”
From that moment on, everything changed. Now, I feel at home wherever I go. I can walk into any AA room, join any Zoom meeting, and I will never feel like an outsider. The love, care, and true friendship I once envied are no longer things I observe from the outside—they are now a part of me. And as I live my life in kindness and love, I see that love reflected back at me from the world around me. What once felt so distant and unattainable is now within me, woven into the fabric of my everyday life.
The Empty Cup, Filled
The cup, once shattered, spills its tale.
A feeling, dust-covered, stirred by a word.
Chaos, a dance of shadows, blamed on all but the hand that held the bottle.
Clarity dawns: the puppeteer, unseen, the strings pulled tight.
The mother's house, a harbour, forgiveness a constant tide.
Church pews, a longing for wholeness, a void echoing in sacred space.
God, a concept unbound, unreachable by the struggling mind.
Envy, not for faith, but for a woven blanket of love.
A congregation's bond, a language unspoken, a belonging unseen.
Isolation, a cold cloak, tears a silent scream in a sea of faces.
The mother's belief, a gentle lie, a solace offered.
The pain, a festering wound,
The cycle of escape, the drink's false embrace.
Then, the feeling fades, a ghost departing at dawn.
Step three, a surrender, a letting go, a turning of the tide.
Walls crumble, running ceases, the heart opens, the spirit breathes.
Fellowship, once a distant longing, now a welcoming embrace.
Home found in shared struggle, in rooms echoing with understanding.
Love, no longer a phantom, but a tangible thread, woven into being.
Kindness, a mirror reflecting back the light within.
The unattainable becomes the essence, the fabric of existence.
The void, filled not with dogma, but with the quiet hum of belonging.
Letting go, the path to finding,
Surrender, the key to true strength.
The self, unbound, finds its place in the vastness.
