GaL-AA "Spotlight On Sobriety" 08/17/2025
- Steve N.
- Aug 13, 2025
- 10 min read
In this week's publication:
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A NEW FREEDOM AND A NEW HAPPINESS
It’s been a long time since I had the feeling of opening a bottle of vodka because I had to, even though I didn’t want to. It had stopped being a source of happiness and relaxation and had become a necessity to make life manageable—at least, as I saw it at the time. Sometimes it even hurt to drink. This pain, which I would later learn was pancreatitis, was not enough to make me stop. The night I first got sober in 2014, I clearly remember thinking that there was no way my life could ever get better. I knew things had gotten pretty bad. I was nine days into a binge, and I’d spent much of it drowning in self-pity, remorseful of my choices, fearful that my family and co-workers would discover my secrets, and convinced that, at 39 years old, my habits were too deeply ingrained for change to be possible. Fear of where my life was headed was enough for me to decide to end it before things got any worse.
God intervened. I had a shotgun loaded, and as I sat contemplating my situation, a thought kept nagging at me. I couldn’t end my life without setting things straight between myself and my last closest friend. We hadn’t spoken in eight years. On the last night of a trip to the airshow in Oshkosh, Wisconsin, in 2006, we left a bar in Milwaukee, and, in a blackout, I had said or done something so unforgivable that my dearest friend did not speak to me the next morning at the hotel, on our flight home to Boston, or during the car ride back to his place where I dropped him off. We had not spoken in the eight years since. I had no idea what I had done or said. I couldn’t remember anything after a certain point at the bar. And I couldn’t leave this life until I could understand what it was I’d done and offer my genuine, deep regret for hurting him so badly.
I had my suspicions. At that time, I was deeply in the closet. Raised in a conservative Evangelical Christian family, I was full of self-loathing for desires and obsessions that my church and family told me were an abomination. Step work later helped me see that this was the primary fuel for my alcoholism. My friend had been my grad school classmate and then my roommate. He was a tall, built, redheaded Irishman from north of Boston, and he was straight as an arrow. Through our grad school years, we were inseparable, and I worked hard to keep my attraction to him quiet—for his sake and mine. A pilot himself, he had gotten me into flying small airplanes, and after graduation, we had gone twice to the airshow in Oshkosh, the largest annual gathering of pilots in the country. The second time, ended in this disaster. I suspected that, drunk, I had finally made an aggressive pass at him in some way, and that was what had caused him to turn his back on me. In my mind, that made sense. In my mind, I could see how he would want nothing more to do with me.
That Saturday night, as I prepared to end my own suffering, I called him to gain some closure, but I was so drunk that I couldn’t make words. He said, “Jeez, Danny, it sounds like you’re in pretty rough shape.” He continued, “My wife was in rough shape once and she got help. Maybe you should get some help, brother.” A switch flipped when I hung up the call. For the first time, it felt like there was another option—a way out. I called detox.
Call nearly any detox facility, and they will tell you that you need to call back later. At the time, I was only focused on how badly I wanted help. Today, I know that most facilities, at least in my area, don’t want to give a recovery bed to someone who is only there for a spin dry; they want to be sure a prospect is serious and willing to give recovery a try. At the time, however, I wanted to reach through the phone, grab the lady’s neck, and say, “If you don’t help me now, I’m not going to make it until tomorrow.” But she was firm. I had to call back in the morning. I did. They explained that I would need to get a ride, bring clothing for a few days, and that I couldn’t bring anything with a drawstring. They wouldn’t say how long I’d be there.
I called my parents. As a daily drinker for 20 years, I had been an isolator, only interfacing with my family for holidays and other special occasions. My sole interaction outside of work was with the bartender and cook where I ate dinner every night. I trusted that my family and co-workers had no idea about my drinking—or that I liked men, for that matter. I lived alone in an unclean condo packed with empties because I was too lazy to bring my bottles down one floor to the trash chute. Calling my folks and admitting that I had a drinking problem and that I’d need a ride from Springfield, Massachusetts, to Brattleboro, Vermont, for treatment felt like cutting open a wound that had been festering for years—painful but necessary. On the ride up with my father, I got a phone call from my uncle in New Zealand who was a sober member of Alcoholics Anonymous for 32 years at that point. He said, “I know you won’t understand this now, but I want to welcome you to the best part of your life.”
The staff at the Brattleboro Retreat gave me my first true medical assessment of the damage I’d done. Sitting in the day room during a group session, I said, “My name is Dan, and I’m an alcoholic” for the first time, and that wound I’d opened the day before began to heal, truly, for the first time. AA came in, and I was in disbelief when their members said they’d been sober for eight months or two years or whatever. I couldn’t imagine. Detox was followed by a return home and a nighttime IOP (intensive outpatient) program for seven weeks. I hadn't ever been sober before—at least not as an adult. I rebelled. I went to AA because my counselors said I had to, but I couldn’t admit I was powerless over alcohol. I’d just gone 15 days without a drink—don’t tell me I’m powerless! I graduated IOP at seven weeks, then waited four more days before going back to the bar that had been my regular place for six years. I told myself I would have two Bud Lights and everything would be fine. I didn’t, it wasn’t, and I had a real experience with powerlessness. I was scared.
There is a men’s Big Book meeting (now my home group, BYOBB, Tuesdays at 7:00) directly across the street from my condo. I had gone grudgingly before, but now I went because I was scared to be back where I was that night with the shotgun. I asked a man to be my sponsor, and I began the journey that has changed my life. In a matter of weeks, my daily, constant cravings had evaporated. In a couple of months, I had done my first Fifth Step and had felt the world shift around me as I began to realize just how delusional I had been for most of my life. I sponsored men, and I made my first round of amends. It took two more years and another round of step work before I had the courage to make amends to my buddy from grad school, who had literally saved my life.
By this time, step work had helped me to understand that I needed to be okay with the gay man that I am, and that I couldn’t let fear of my family’s opinion push me back into self-hatred and drinking. Life had gotten far too good to consider returning to my old self. I met my friend for dinner, and we caught up on all that had gone on in the 11 years we’d been apart. I expressed my deep gratitude for the phone call that kept me from taking my life and opened the door to this new one. We were almost ready to part ways as friends again, and I had to ask the question, “What was it I said or did that night in Milwaukee that made you so angry with me?” “What do you mean?” he said. I replied, “We haven’t spoken in 11 years. Why were you so mad at me?” “Danny, brother, I thought you were mad at me this whole time.”
It was a misunderstanding. A beautiful friendship, lost for 11 years due to a misunderstanding after a drunken night and a blackout, finally healed. There is a reason that the promises come after the Ninth Step.
My recovery has been filled with many similar overwhelming surprises, blessings, and gifts. The sponsor who helped me dig deep and finally find peace with myself in 2019 took me to World Pride in New York that year for the 50th anniversary of the Stonewall Uprising, and we were invited to march with friends of his behind the men and women of G.O.A.L. (Gay Officers Action League) and the NYPD. It was stunning—so much love in one place!
I joined my sponsor again this past weekend for the International Conference of AA 2025 in Vancouver, British Columbia. At the GaL-AA hospitality suite, I was able to finally meet in person and spend time with a brother member of a Leather, Fetish, and Kink-oriented online recovery meeting who lives in Georgia. All of the LGBT sessions for the event were filled to capacity. Such a blessing to be among so many amazing, beautiful, and sober brothers and sisters. GaL-AA can be extraordinarily proud of the scale and quality of all it achieved for this incredible event, and especially for bringing to an International Conference for the first time a completely packed session devoted to the Trans experience in recovery. Such an overwhelming weekend—I will be floating on this experience for days.
Complete transformation is possible. It doesn’t take long, doesn’t hurt too much if you’re willing to let go of old ideas, and it doesn’t cost a dime. I get to watch it happen to newcomers all the time. It is especially rewarding when I have the privilege of helping someone along the way. The answer is simple: trust the God of your understanding, clean house, and help others. You will not believe how good life can become.
Dan H.
West Springfield, MA
SAVE THE DATE - Annual Meeting and Elections 11/01/2025
GaL-AA’s ANNUAL MEETING AND ELECTIONS
SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 1, 2025 @ 12:30PM EST
Via ZOOM
GaL-AA’s Annual Meeting and Elections will be held on Saturday, November 1, 2025 at 12:30 PM EST, via Zoom.
This has been an exciting and successful year for GaL-AA! During the Annual Meeting, each member of GaL-AA’s Executive Committee will report on the accomplishments of the past year and share what we are working on moving forward. Members will also be able to vote to elect members to the Executive Committee. There will also be an opportunity for members to submit questions that will be answered at the end of the meeting.
To attend and vote on important issues affecting GaL-AA, you must be a member with an email on file and have a Zoom account. If you do not have a Zoom account, please sign up for a free account. More information on this part of the process will be provided as plans are developed. Click here for Zoom App information, available in your app store.
If you are seeing this notice on one of our social media platforms and do not have a working email address registered with GaL-AA, use the QR code below or link to add your email to GaL-AA's email list and be a part of our exciting future. Join by clicking here.
This promises to be an interesting, informative, and exciting meeting. We hope you will join us!
Keep your eyes on our weekly SPOTLIGHT ON SOBRIETY for future developments and opportunities for service.
Yours in fellowship,
GaL-AA Executive Committee
🌈 Join the GaL-AA Newsletter Team! 📰
Do you love great stories, clean layouts, and uplifting messages of recovery? GaL-AA’s Newsletter Committee is looking for 1–2 enthusiastic volunteers to help shape the content our community looks forward to each week!
We’re seeking GaL-AA member volunteers with basic tech skills who are familiar with the Google Business Platform (Docs, Drive, Gmail, etc.) and who have a good eye for editing or a flair for content ideas. Whether you’re polishing an article or suggesting a new story angle, you’ll be part of the team that helps carry the message through engaging, inclusive content.
✨ Most of the work can be done on your own schedule, from home, with a monthly committee meeting via Zoom to connect and collaborate.
Interested or want to learn more? Reach out to Steve N. at web.support@gal-aa.org — we’d love to have you on board!
2025 GaL-AA Member Survey, Last Chance - Survey ends 8/24/2025
We Want to Hear from You!
Take the GaL-AA 2025 Member Survey Today (Last day 8/17)
Your voice matters! As part of our ongoing effort to better serve the LGBTQ+ recovery community, GaL-AA has created a short, easy-to-complete 2025 Member Survey. This is your opportunity to share feedback, ideas, and insights that will help shape our work in the years ahead.
The survey is simple to access, mobile-friendly, and concise, with each question crafted to provide valuable input for our planning and programming. Whether you're a long-time supporter or newly involved, your feedback will help us:
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Thank you for being part of GaL-AA. Together, we’re building a stronger, more inclusive recovery community.
GaL-AA's "Spotlight On Sobriety" features personal stories and reflections submitted by members and friends of the fellowship. The views expressed are those of the individual authors and do not necessarily represent those of Alcoholics Anonymous or GaL-AA.
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