On this day, just before midnight, I had my last drink (ever please God) of alcohol. It was a beer. It was a Budweiser. In a can. My husband and children were in bed and I was sitting at the dining room table, drinking. I wanted a couple more beers before I went to bed. There was nothing whatsoever outstanding about that day.
I had a normal day with the kids and me at home (I was a housewife). When my husband came home from work he mentioned that one of the managers at his new job had mentioned to the president of the company that he had no faith whatever in my husband. We were both pretty upset about that. I was particularly upset about it because this manager and I had drank together - a LOT - down in Raton, NM. He didn't like me. It seems he didn't approve of a young wife and mother spending every second she could in a run down bar on 1st Street in Raton, New Mexico. Oh, how I wanted to tell this man that I had changed my ways... but the problem was that I hadn't changed my ways at all. I just had gotten too afraid to go to bars anymore. I just sat at home and drank every day. For years.
We hopped in the car, the whole family, with me at the wheel - I have no idea why I was driving, unless my husband was drunker than I was... who knows? We drove to the public library in our new town. We had just moved to Denver on July 5, 1984. The library was closed, so we just drove around on a hot summer night. We got to a town that is now a full-fledged suburb of Denver, but at that time was a little town... we were thrilled to see that it had a liquor store with a drive-through window. Thrilled I tell you.
Some people celebrate their AA birthday on the anniversary of their last drink - I don't. I celebrate on the anniversary of my first day of sobriety. And that is tomorrow. Thanks to the Grace of a Loving God and the program and fellowship of Alcoholics Anonymous.