1935: The day after they met, Bill W.
[near right]
and Dr. Bob S. [far
right]
had dinner together.
1953: Bill W. wrote a letter to Al S.
[far left]
, which would later form the basis of his well-known
A.A. Grapevine article, “Emotional Sobriety,” published in January
1958
[near left; cover]
:Dear Al,
I think that we oldsters who have put the A.A. booze cure to such severe
tests, yet still find we lack emotional sobriety, are probably the spearhead
for the next major development in A.A.—the development of something like real
maturity and balance (which is to say, humility) in our relations with
ourselves, with our fellows, and with God.
Those adolescent urges for top approval, perfect security, and the perfect
romance, urges quite appropriate to age 17, prove to be an impossible way of
life at 47 or 57.
Since A.A. began I’ve
taken immense wallops in all these departments because of my failure to grow
up, emotionally and spiritually. My God, how painful it is to keep insisting
on the impossible, and how painful to discover that we have the cart before
the horse. Then comes the final agony of seeing how damned wrong we are but
still finding ourselves unable, seemingly to get off the merry-go-round.
How to translate right intellectual conviction into right emotional results
and so into easy, happy, active and good living—well that’s not only the
neurotic’s problem, it’s the problem of life itself for all who have got to
the point of willingness to hew to right principles. Even then, as we hew away
peace and joy still eludes us. That’s the place so many of us A.A. oldsters
have come to. And it’s a hell of a spot, literally. How shall the unconscious,
from which our fears, compulsions, and phony aspirations still stream be
brought into line with what we actually believe, know and want—how to convince
our dumb, raging, and hidden “Mr. Hyde”, becomes the final task.
I’ve recently come to believe this can be done. I believe so because I begin
to see many benighted ones, folks like you and me, commencing to get
results.
Last fall, depression, having no
really rational cause at all, took me to the cleaners. I began to be scared
that I was in for another five year chronic spell. Considering the grief I’ve
had with depression, it wasn’t a bright prospect.
I kept asking myself, “Why can’t the twelve steps work to release depression?
By the hour I stared at the Francis Prayer—“It’s better to understand than to
be understood—it’s better to comfort than be comforted—it’s better to love
than to be loved….”. Here was the formula, all right. But why didn’t it
work?
Suddenly, I realized what the
matter was. My basic flaw had always been dependence—absolute dependence—on
people or circumstances to supply me with prestige, security and romance.
Failing to get them according to my still childish dreams and specifications,
I had fought for these things. And when defeat came, so did depression. There
wasn’t a chance of making the outgoing love of Francis a workable and joyous
way of life until these fatal and really absolute dependencies were cut
away.
Because I had undergone a little
spiritual development, the absolute quality of these frightful liabilities had
never before been so starkly revealed. Therefore, reinforced by what Grace I
could secure in prayer, I found that I must exert every ounce of will and
action to cut off these emotional dependencies upon people, upon A.A.—indeed,
upon any set of circumstances whatever. Then, only then, would I be free to
love as Francis could. Emotional and instinctual satisfactions, I saw, were
really the extra dividends of having love, offering love and expressing love
appropriate to each relation of life.
Plainly, I could not avail myself of God’s love until I was able to offer it
back to Him by loving others as he would have me. And I couldn’t possibly do
that so long as I was victimized by my dependencies. For dependency meant
demand; demand of possession and control of people and conditions.
While the words “absolute dependency” may look like a gimmick, they were the
ones that triggered my release into my present stability and quietness of mind
which I’m now trying to consolidate by having love and offering love,
regardless of the return.
This is, Al,
the primary healing circuit: our outgoing love of God’s creation and his
people, by which we avail ourselves of His love for us. But the real current
can’t flow until our dependencies are broken—broken at depth. Only then can we
have a glimmer of what adult love really is.
Spiritual calculus you say? Not a bit of it. Watch any A.A. of six months
working on a new 12th step case. If the case says “the hell with you” the 12th
stepper smiles and turns to another case. He doesn’t feel frustrated or
rejected. If his case responds and starts to give love and attention to other
alcoholics, but returns none to the sponsor, then the sponsor is happy anyway.
He still doesn’t feel rejected. And when his case turns out in later time to
be his best friend (or romance) then the sponsor is joyful. But his happiness
and joy were by-products, nothing more.
The really stabilizing thing was the having and offering of love to that
strange drunk on his doorstep. That was Francis at work, powerful and
practical, minus dependency and minus demand.
In my first six months of sobriety, I worked hard with many alcoholics. Not
one responded but that kept me sober. It wasn’t a question of their giving me
anything. Stability came out of giving, not of receiving.
Thus I think it will work out with emotional sobriety. If we examine every
disturbance we have, great or small, we can find at the root of it some sort
of unhealthy dependency and consequent demand. Let us hack away at these
chains, begging God’s help. Then we shall be set free to live and to love. We
shall then be able to 12th step ourselves and others into emotional
sobriety.
Well, Al, I haven’t offered you
a single new idea—just a gimmick that has started to unhook my several “hexes”
at depth. My brain no longer races compulsively in either elation, grandiosity
or depression. I have been given a quiet place in bright sunshine.
Top best to Hazel and yourself.
Affectionately,
Bill