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Source: Hilda F – Sunlight of the Spirit 2017 – Speaker Talk – Date Unknown.mp3 File: hilda-f-sunlight-of-the-spirit-2017-speaker-talk-date-unknown.mp3 Duration: 00:59:32
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Thank you. My name is Hilda. I am an alcoholic. I love Alcoholics Anonymous. I really want to thank Dolly and the committee and anyone else who had part in me getting here. I will tell you that this is my least favorite thing to do in Alcoholics Anonymous. I think it's God's little joke that I keep getting asked to do it. But I absolutely love to be of service. And Caitlin, thank you for hosting. She's hilarious. We ended up doing two U-turns on the way here last night. And finally Caitlin reached the point where she just said, we need to stop talking because I can't do both. Okay. Let's see. I will tell you that I truly believe and it is my experience that if a lying, bed-wetting whore like myself can get sober and stay sober, I truly believe absolutely anybody can. I'm going to follow the directions in the big book. They suggest I tell you what it was like, what happened and what I'm trying to be like today. I was born in London. That will save you wondering. Somebody was talking to me earlier and she kept looking at me and she goes, where are you from? I said Los Angeles.
And she had that look like, is that how they talk in California? So I'm born in London. I grew up in a pub. I'm an only child and only grandchild and I loved everything about alcohol long before I ever drank it. You know, my family is all Irish. They like to introduce me as the only limey little bastard born in England. Lovingly. But I grew up in this pub and I loved it. I loved it. My granddad's pub was in the shape of a U and there were two bars in the front on the main road and there's a little hallway between. There was a long bar out the back and a kitchen and in between the long bar and the kitchen was the alleyway back out to the park lot and we lived upstairs. And my bedroom was above the kitchen and it looked straight down into the long bar. Now the other two bars, one was called the front bar. It was in the front. The other one was called the cocktail bar.
Now the front bar is where older people went and sipped on a brandy all day. And the cocktail bar was where people went off to work, had a couple of drinks and went home. Now I can tell you, even when I was little, neither of those were attractive to me. My bedroom overlooked the long bar and the long bar is where life happened. Life happened in the long bar. I mean, they had darts tournaments and pool tournaments and fights would break out and the police would get called. From my bedroom window, it was better than telly.
I loved it. I'd watch them for hours. And they had this thing in London at the time called lock-in. And what would happen is after hours, they'd lock all the doors and the regulars got to stay. From my bedroom window, it was magic because they would turn the lights down, they'd turn the jukebox down and the regulars would stay and play cribbage. All I could see was the neon lights glowing through the optics and them. And it just looked magic to me. I'd watch them for hours. And I snuck down one night. I didn't know how old I was.
My granddad flagged me in. I know my pajamas still had feet in them. But he popped me up in a bar stool and he gave me a baby sham. And baby sham at the time came in a little bottle and I was a little person. And it had even the logo on it was this cartoon deer that was kind of leaping. And to this day, I cannot tell you if I like the taste or I got tipsy or I don't know anything. I just know that at that moment with my baby sham on that bar stool, I had arrived. I got to be one of them. And I'm pretty sure I spent the rest of me drinking and looking for that night back. But I loved it. I loved everything
[00:05:02]
about it. And my playground was the cellar. And my playthings were the bottles. I used to line whiskey bottles up on one side and vodka bottles on the other. And I'd have the whiskey bottles chatting to the vodka bottles. And they'd be chatting to me and I'd be chatting to them. And whiskey was the bad guys and vodka was the good guys. And the only sad part about all of that is it was still happening in my 20s. But I loved it. I loved it. And alcoholism was on me really quickly. I love it when people talk about the invisible line. I mean, how would you know it's invisible? But it's baffling to me. But my favorite definition of the invisible line, Casey Crane, my sponsor's husband, used to say is, it was the moment when he stopped bragging about his drinking and he started lying about how much he was drinking. I get that. That makes sense to me.
So the big book of Alcoholics Anonymous talks about me. It's around page 33. And I'm paraphrasing, but it basically says it doesn't matter how much you drink or how often you drink. It's what happens when you drink. And that many who are merely potential alcoholics often become the real thing in a relatively short amount of time, particularly true of women. And I'm one of those women. By 16, I had an ulcer. At 17, I got done for drunk driving.
At 18, I had a heart attack. And six months later, I was in my first mental hospital. And that's when drink was working. It all went downhill after that. Over the next three years, I was in and out of five mental hospitals. The longest I was ever out of a mental hospital in that time was for two weeks. And in those two weeks, I had my own flat. I had the curtains drawn, the answering machine on, a fridge full of Osti, Spermanti, vodka, and Michelob Light. Because I'm a calorie counter. And in those two weeks, I did not see or speak to another human being. And I was happy. I have a clear memory of standing in the shower drinking a cold Michelob Light, not knowing if it was day or night, not caring, and thinking it just doesn't get any better than this. But what happened was I got a knock on the door one day, and it was my mom, my shrink, two policemen, and two nurses. They shot me in the arse with something and put me in a jacket with really long arms. And I came to the Institute for the Living in Hartford, Connecticut. Now, it felt a little surreal to me. I wasn't sure if I was on candid camera or I'd been punked or something. It just didn't seem quite right, because I found out I had been committed for a minimum of a year for being a danger to myself and others. Now, I hadn't seen anybody for two weeks. I couldn't figure out who the others were. And it really bothered me, because the people in those places are crazy. Now, I've always known there was something a little off with me, something not quite right, just a bubble off normal. I don't think I've ever been a full ticket.
I don't think I'm ever going to be a full ticket. And quite honestly, I do not believe there is a program in the world that will make me a full ticket. What I do know is that the program of Alcoholics Anonymous has given me the tools that allow me to act as if I'm a full ticket. And I'm running with that today. But at the time, I knew there was something wrong, and I knew they didn't know what it was. But I had this roommate, and it was really obvious what was wrong with her, right? I mean, she had rage attacks. One minute, she'd be fine, and she'd snap. She'd start punching out windows and going for nurses. It'd be chaos. And I'd be sitting on the bed reading, you know, nothing going on here. I'm good, you know. And they did this thing called wet packing. And all these nurses would come in.
They would tackle her, wrap her in cold, wet sheets, and toddle her away. Now, she had something I didn't have, and that was friends locally. And her friends used to smuggle money in all the time, so our room always had money hidden in it. So when she'd get toddled away, I'd start thinking, because I'm a thinker, right? I'd start thinking, it seems such a waste to leave all that money just sitting around, you know. So I went AWOL on her dime.
And the first time I went AWOL, I had $50 on me. I ended up in downtown Hartford, and I had no clue what I was going to do. And this little fellow wandered up to me, and he said, Psst, do you want to buy a ticket to Prince? Now, I didn't know who Prince was.
[00:10:07]
I am truly an ACDC Black Sabbath kind of girl. But I'm thinking, a dark auditorium, this might work. So I get these tickets. I smuggle in two bottles of vodka. I'm sitting in the nosebleed seats. And while he did his little Rosemary Beret thing, I got absolutely legless. And after the concert, I was wandering around Hartford, and I ended up in this park. And there were these fellas sitting around passing a bottle. Wine-Os, really. But I sat down with them, and they kept looking at me like stupid or crazy. But they let me drink with them, and they didn't say a word all night. And as dawn came, the white van with the blue letters pulled up, Institute for the Living. And I stood up and said, I got to go. My ride's here.
That's a true story. So of course, they looked at each other like, yep, crazy. So I get back to the hospital, and I have to build up my little trust points and whatever. Anybody who's been through that knows. And the longer I was there, my time was coming up. And the last time I went AWOL, I was getting a bit tired of it, really. And I didn't go very far. And I found this pizza joint right around the corner from the hospital. And as I was going in, I thought to myself, okay, Hilda, this time, we are going to do this properly.
We're going to do this like a lady. So I go in, I order a slice of pizza and two pitchers of beer. I sit down in the booth, and I'm pouring it in the glass, because we're going to do this like a lady. But as I get started, some of the nurses from my unit came in on their break. So now, I'm down in the booth with a pitcher up to my mouth, trying to get as much down me before they see me. You know, it's just madness, the whole thing. And when my time was coming up, I had to go before a board of psychiatrists. My psychiatrist stood up and said, Hilda will never live in normal society. She is completely incapable.
And his recommendation was that I did a minimum of another year. And it took me two and a half months to convince the board to let me out. So I did 14 and a half months. And in hindsight, I think he may have had a point. Because I got out of the hospital and I moved down the street in Hamden. And I got a little job and I met a fella. Now, this fella turned out to be a Coke dealer. Now, I had never done Coke. I didn't know it would let you drink longer. Those of you nodding did. I did not. But I'll tell you what happened.
In a relatively short amount of time, I have this little job at $700 a week. I have a Coke habit of $1,500 a week. And when you do the math, it wasn't coming out terribly well. And I was sitting on the counter in my kitchen one day. I was drinking a case of McLight at the time. And I remember looking out at my flat and thinking I had sold everything including my curtains for Coke. And I thought, Hilda, if you are hanging out with people who will buy your curtains, we have a problem here. Do you know I never did Coke again?
In fact, I'd be in parties and people around me would be doing Coke. And my head would go, mm-mm-mm, remember the curtains. Now, I think that's what makes me a real alcoholic. Because far worse things happen to me drinking than ever happen to me with Coke. And never once did my head ever say, don't drink. What it might say is, stay away from the red wine because it makes you cry. Don't be drinking the whiskey because it makes you mean. My version of Chapter 3 is switching from Scotch to Brandy or Scott to Randy. But it never said don't drink. So I'm in Hamden. I get done for drunk driving, drunken disorderly, indecent exposure. And I think, you know, I never should have left England. It was so much better there. So I moved back to England. And I wouldn't be in England very long. And I get done for drunk driving, drunken disorderly, indecent exposure. And I think, America was so much better. What was I thinking? And really, that is my drink.
What was I thinkin'? And really, that is my drinkin' in a nutshell. It was always going to be better somewhere else, and everywhere I went, there I was.
[00:15:05]
And, uh, I have a long list of arrests for, um, indecent exposure. And I know I don't look the type today. Alright, perhaps a little, but… Something happens when you add alcohol to my type of alcoholic. And I know I'm not alone in Alcoholics Anonymous, because I have heard plenty of women share. But as soon as you add alcohol to my type of alcoholic, for whatever reason, I know that you must see my tits.
Now… I know… I know that that's part of my alcoholism. Because I do not feel the need to show them to you now. Right? So I'm in, uh, I'm in London. And, um, I'm tendin' bar with my mate Andy. Andy and I have been great friends for a long time, and Andy's birthday was on New Year's Eve. So we started drinkin' on Christmas Eve, as you do. Now, I have always been a blackout drinker. I used to call it losin' time.
I was always losin' time. I might lose a couple hours, I might lose a couple of days, but I was always losin' time. Now, um… I thought that when I had lost time, I had passed out quietly somewhere. I found out on the 3rd of January that that was not true. I answered the phone, and it was Andy, and he asked me if I was ready to pick out rings. And I had no clue what he was talkin' about, and he said, No, no, Hilda, not this time. Now, he brought over a video.
And I'm on this video. And I look great. I look great. I am not slurrin' my words, I am not walkin' funny, I had drink in hand the whole time. It was all the pubs we were in, all our friends were there, my father was there. I'm watchin' this video, and Andy went down on one knee, and I thought, Dear God, say no! Because I wasn't there. And it was the first time that I realized that you didn't know that I didn't know that I wasn't there.
So, I did what I did best, really. I went to the pub. And I found the guy in the pub that knows everything about everything. Right? This guy is in every bar all over the world. You ask him the time, and he explains to you exactly how the pendulum clock works. Right? I mean, he truly is the most interesting man in the world. Right? So, I'm chattin' away to this fella, and I tell him, you know, poor old me, I'm engaged, and I didn't know what to do.
And he said to me, Did you know, if you volunteer on a kibbutz in Israel, they do your laundry, you get three meals a day, and you get 50 quid a month. And I thought, Result! Three days later, I'm in Golders Green, I've got a visa, I'm goin' to Israel. Now, I'm a good Irish Catholic girl. This all made sense to me. So, I went to Israel. I went for three months, I stayed nine. And I came out of a blackout in a Tel Aviv jail charged with drunk driving.
And I didn't remember renting the car. And I can tell you that really horrible things happen to young, vulnerable women who drink like I do in places like that. And I got out on bail, and I jumped bail, and I went to Egypt. And I ended up with the wrong people in the wrong place at the wrong time. And really horrible things happen to young, vulnerable women who drink like I do in places like that. I ended up getting dumped in Cairo, just near the American embassy.
I had a tattered t-shirt on, a beat-up pair of shorts, and not another thing to my name. And a big American Marine took pity on me. It was Ramadan, and everything was shut, including the embassy. And him and his mates looked after me until the embassy opened. Now, I can tell you, I truly believe a non-alcoholic woman who had been through what I had been through would probably never drink again. But I'm a goalpost drinker.
I'm one of those drinkers that says, if it gets bad, I move the goalpost back just a little bit. I think if it gets worse, I move the goalpost back just a little bit more. You know, I got an emergency passport. I wasn't 20 minutes in the air. I thought, hell, they could have killed me. I was drunk when I landed. I had no idea that it was alcoholism. I didn't know what was going on. And the whole 80s for me are a bit like the talking head song, Once in a Lifetime, where he goes, This is not my beautiful house.
This is not my beautiful wife.
[00:20:00]
How did I get here? It was like one big long blackout with little bits of reality tossed in. Coming to the end of the 80s, I found out I was in a relationship that apparently I had been in for quite a while. And my partner was commenting on my drinking, which I just thought was rude. So I moved to Nebraska. I moved in with me mom. And I wasn't with me mom very long, and she started commenting on my drinking.
And I really didn't know what to do. And I thought about my uncle. My uncle had tried to 12-step me in a pub in St. Albans when I was 18. He was nine months sober in Alcoholics Anonymous, and he was on fire. And he was buying the beer, so I let him talk, right? And I remember him saying, In Alcoholics Anonymous, you need never drink again. I was 18. I thought, Why the hell wouldn't I want to drink?
I could not understand what he was saying. But I tell you what, it's all gone horribly wrong. Because he was still sober in Alcoholics Anonymous. Now, he was what I thought a real alcoholic was, right? I mean, my uncle went to prison. I only ever went to jail, right? My uncle went to detox centers. I only ever went to mental hospitals. So in my mind, he was what a real alcoholic was, and yet he was still sober.
So I thought I'd give it a go. So I went to my first meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous on New Year's Eve, 1989. I picked New Year's Eve because I truly believed no alcoholic would quit drinking on New Year's Eve. I know today only alcoholics pick a date. Non-alcoholics never question their drinking. They don't put little red X's on calendars, right? It's like virgins. They don't go for pregnancy tests.
I didn't know that then. So I toddled along to this meeting in Papillion, Nebraska. It was a little meeting, and they were talking about Azophil. There were the children, and I thought I was screwed because I know that's not the answer, right? I'm a seeker. Israel, please, right? So I can't hear anything else in the meeting. So I started taking everybody's inventory by their shoes because I can't look at you either, right?
And the guy sitting next to me had on the biggest pair of cowboy boots I'd ever seen. And I remember thinking, I wonder if his IQ is any bigger than his boot size. I mean, just tearing these people to shreds. And off to the meeting, I made a beeline for my car, and this big dumb cowboy followed me out. And he got to my car, and he said to me, have you got a big book? I said, of course I have a big book.
Doesn't everybody have a big book? Now, I wouldn't have known a big book if you had beat me to death with it. But I couldn't tell him that, right? But without missing a beat, he went to his truck, and he gave me his big book. And it was the first time anybody had seen straight through me, and I was speechless. And this little old woman ran up to me and said, did you know if you go to a lot of meetings and you don't drink in between, you can't get drunk?
Thank you? I got in my car, and I thought, oh, my God, these people are freaks. But I tell you what happened. As I pulled out of the car park, that little woman's voice resonated in my head, and I thought, hang on a minute, she may have a point here. If I went to a lot of these meetings and I didn't drink in between, I might stay out of trouble. That's what was attractive to me, and that's exactly what I did.
I went to a lot of meetings and didn't drink in between, and my life took off. I was a rocket to stardom in Alcoholics Anonymous. And if you have any time in here at all, you know exactly who I'm talking about. My life got great. My jobs got better. The money starts coming in. In the meantime, I'm coming five minutes late, leaving five minutes early, calling it a home group. I'm sitting in the middle of Alcoholics Anonymous listening to you share about the steps, thinking it's a shame you need all that help.
I thought the steps were for those of you who are really unwell, and there seemed to be a lot of you. The truth is I was sitting in the middle of Alcoholics Anonymous, dying of alcoholism, and I didn't know it. I didn't know. I got a sponsor because people were giving me a hard time about not having one. You know what they're like.
[00:25:00]
So I found the oldest, frailest woman I could find. I thought she wouldn't give me a hard time. She really did her best. She did her best, I will say. She was about three years sober, and she got really, really ill, and she was dying in hospital. I went to see her one day, and she said to me, Just remember, Hilda, Alcoholics Anonymous will be here for you when you come back. I hadn't drank yet. I had no clue what she was talking about.
But she could see it. Of course, she passed away, and I pulled away. I went from seven meetings a week to five to four, three, two a week, two a month now because I'm busy. And I'm not going to Wednesday night because I can't stand the secretary. And I'm not going to Friday night because the same woman shares the same shite every week, and I just can't listen to her. Now I'm taking AA's inventory. So I'm in Florida.
I'm on my way to my dream job in Germany, the job I had worked really hard to get. And it should frighten you that anybody ever gave me a top security clearance. I'm just saying. But I'm in Germany. I'm on my way to Florida. I'm on my way to Germany, and my ex came back because I wasn't drinking. And we're walking on the beach in Florida one day, and she turned to me and said, You know what, Hilda?
Not only do I not like you, I don't love you drunk or sober. And I thought, Are you kidding? Three and a half years, I haven't had a drink for you, which was my other problem. So I took my now ex to the airport. As the plane took off, I walked in the bar. I started with Double Jack because that's how I drink. I started drinking on the Thursday, arrived in Germany on the Sunday, started me new job on the Monday, got done for drunk driving on the Friday, and woke up in a wet bed next to my new boss on Saturday morning.
That's my drinking. Glamour drinking. I drank like that for nine months. I've heard people stand at podiums and say, If you want to pick up where you left off, pick up a drink tomorrow. Absolutely not my experience. When I started drinking after not drinking, my drinking was ten times worse and more. My blackouts were longer. The people I woke up next to were uglier. The beds were wetter. It was not pretty.
The morning after what I hope is my last night before, it was the 20th of July, 1993. It is my sobriety date. I woke up in my own bed, which had become a bonus. I was alone, which was a bigger bonus. The bed was wet, and I was still dressed from work, and all of this is very normal for me now. But I went into the bathroom, and my hose were all ripped. There was blood everywhere. I had a great gash down my face, and I had no clue what had happened the night before.
And I had a moment. I heard people in Alcoholics Anonymous share about the hideous four horsemen, terror, bewilderment, frustration, and despair. And I used to think, God, you're so dramatic. That morning, I knew who they were, and my heart broke. Not because I can't drink. I could drink today. That morning, I realized I had become unpredictable to me. I did not care when I was unpredictable to you.
But that morning, I realized I had become unpredictable to me, and I did the only thing I knew what to do. I called English-speaking AA. And a guy called Steve Baker answered the phone. He lets me break his anonymity. And I told him my sad old story. Poor old me, been to AA, screwed it up. Whine, whine, whine. And he said something to me I truly believe saved my life. He said, you know, Hilda, the most natural thing in the world for an alcoholic to do is drink.
And that's why in Alcoholics Anonymous we don't shoot our wounded. And I believed him. It was the only reason I went to a meeting that night was because I thought he understood. So I'm driving over to this meeting in Hunsbrook, Holland, and my head kicks in. My head goes, hang on a minute, Hilda. We don't want anybody to think we're new. Right? I don't want anybody to think I don't know what's going on in here.
I mean, I memorized Chapter 5. Not just where it said God could and would. I'm talking about Chapter 5, right? So I'm going over to this meeting in Hunsbrook, Holland, and I'm thinking, okay, I'm thinking about the meetings in Florida and California, the big meetings. And I thought what I would do is I'd sit in the back, get a little bit of time, and then tell you what happened. I walked into this meeting in Hunsbrook, Holland.
There were seven people in the room for an hour and a half. And nobody was letting me talk. And nobody was letting me pass, right? They all looked shiny and new.
[00:30:00]
I'm bloated, sweaty, the vision for you. So I told all them my sad old story. Afterwards they were looking for somebody to make the tea and coffee and I was thinking, wow, I hope they find somebody. It's an important commitment. And this voice from across the room went, Hilda will do it. And I thought, Hilda who? This meeting was Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday and this was Tuesday night. I said, hang on a minute, I don't know if I'm going to be sober on Thursday.
That seemed like a really long time to me. And this woman looked at me and went, if you want to stay sober, you'll make the tea and coffee. Now, my head went, who is this psycho bitch and why is she tormenting me? My mouth went, oh, okay. Because I had no fight left. If you're new, I hope you're tired. I would have done anything that woman suggested and I tried because I just didn't know what else to do.
And I didn't know if it was the Thursday or the Saturday but she pulled me aside and said, you know, you're going to have to try and do 90 meetings in 90 days. I said, do you see where we are? Hunsbrook Holland. It's nowhere, hang a left. She goes, oh, I know where we are. But they have a meeting in Dusseldorf on Friday night and Kaiserslautern on Wednesday and Dahan on Monday. I was like, err. I said, I am not driving all over God's acre for a meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous.
Not happening. She goes, huh. How far did you drive for a drink? Which is so unfair. Because I am that drunk at 2 in the morning driving around for anything open. So I started tormenting my home group because I had a thing about getting lost. If I got lost, I would find a B&B, call it a day, get a couple of bottles and be done, right? I did it on the way to job interviews, weddings, my wedding ones.
I hated getting lost. So on Thursday night, I would say, I am driving to Dusseldorf tomorrow night. Does anybody want to go? The guy I hated the most. Hated. Always went, I'll go with you, Hilda. It was like, anybody but you. But Mike would show up every Friday night. We would drive an hour and a half to Dusseldorf for an hour and a half's meeting, for an hour's coffee afterwards and an hour and a half's drive home.
And I wanted to kill him the entire time. I have left skid marks on the Autobahn where I pulled over to tell him to get out. But he had about 8 years of sobriety and he would just laugh. We're going to be late if you don't get going. I'm grateful today for where I got sober because I learned principles before personalities. You have to when you hate everybody in your home group and they're all you've got.
I'm reading this bit in the book one night and I can't remember what it was but it prompted me to phone the psycho woman. It was about 2 in the morning and I called her and she answered the phone like she was waiting for it. It's creepy when that happens, isn't it? I said, Sandy, I'm reading this bit in the book and I think I need a sponsor. Would you sponsor me? And she said, I have been but thanks for making it official.
That's how I got my sponsor. I tell you, she was good as gold. She dragged me through the steps of Alcoholics Anonymous. And I argued and debated every step. And karma is a wonderful thing because I have sponsored me now for a number of times. But we'd be reading the book and she took me through the book line by line, page by page. And I love doing exactly the same thing with the women I sponsor. We were in her kitchen one day.
I was at the table, she was at the counter and we're reading this bit in the book and I said, I know what it says, Sandy but do you know what it means? And before I could enlighten her her book came across the kitchen and just missed my head. And I said, Jesus, Sandy, what are you doing? She goes, no. When you read the big book of Alcoholics Anonymous we read the black bits. There is nothing in between the lines.
What they say is what they mean. And of course, I'm a mumbler, right? So I'm like, I don't know, I think there's more to it than that. Maybe a little bit deeper, you know.
[00:35:02]
I don't know how she didn't kill me. But she was good as gold. I was at her house one night and it was late and I was just getting ready to leave and I said, look, Sandy, I am wasting your time and mine because I always drink. I'm a drunk. I'm going to drink sooner or later. And she said, you know, Hilda when we get to steps six and seven if you can really apply them in your life you will no longer have the excuse of I've always been and I'm always going to be.
She said, you get to change. You don't get to say anymore I've always been a loser, I'm always going to be a loser I've always been a bitch, I'm always going to You don't get to do that anymore with six and seven because you can change. And she gave me hope that night and I didn't drink. And I'm grateful now because they are two of my favorite steps for that very reason because I got to change with them, you know.
I was about nine months sober and my company promoted me. They were sending me to Belgium. Belgium. I thought it was just a place on the news. I didn't know people lived there, you know. So I went over to Sandy's. I said, Sandy, they're sending me to Belgium. She said, Hilda, what's the problem? I said, well, I'm only nine months sober. I'm not supposed to have any major changes in the first year. And she said, I'm really sorry your company didn't get the memo.
Pack your bags. So I moved to Belgium and I was miserable in Belgium so I tried duvet therapy. I'm sure nobody in Ohio has ever done this but it's when you get home from work get under the duvet, get up the next day and hope it all changes. It doesn't work but I didn't drink. And finally I gave in and I called Sandy and I told her what was going on and she told me to blow the dust off my big book and get my happy little arse 20 minutes up the road to the Brussels meeting.
They meet every night of the week. And when you get there, I want you to share honestly. And I was like, whatever. So I drive up to the Brussels meeting and when I got there, their coffee was like sludge and they had almost no literature. So when I shared, I told them so. Afterwards, they gave me the literature commitment and took me to coffee I learned how to put my hand out again and they saved my life in Brussels.
I was about 14 months sober. I was offered a job in London and I did it all different. I went over every weekend. I had a home group before I arrived. I had a service commitment waiting for me and I did not have to try duvet therapy. It was the first time I had done something different for a different result. I had heard you share that. I had never tried it. I was about two and a half years sober and we went to the All-Ireland Convention and I heard the speaker say you can do absolutely anything in Alcoholics Anonymous if you're willing to do the work and pay the price.
And I thought, huh. Okay. So I went back to London. I quit my job. I went on the dole and I started applying to universities. I was going to go into a helping profession. Going to help people. At two and a half years sober I did not know myself well enough to know that I don't like people enough to want to do that. I was about four years sober when I got accepted to university. It's hard to get in there.
It was also the time I got my first tattoo and my first motorcycle. Four and a half years sober I had a motorcycle accident so I got a bigger bike and a bigger tattoo. Five years sober I started my second year at university. Nobody in Alcoholics Anonymous seemed surprised. I thought it was because people in Alcoholics Anonymous believed in me and later I found out it's because they believe in Alcoholics Anonymous.
I'm tootling along quite nicely in Alcoholics Anonymous. I'm at school, I'm working, I've got a motorcycle. I've been with my partner now for years. Life is good. Six and a half years sober I was just about to leave the flat for a convention in the south of England. As I was leaving the phone rang and it was my mom. My mom was living in Pasadena in California and she had been diagnosed with breast cancer.
She asked me if I would come out in a couple of months when she had these big operations. Of course I said I would. I continued on to this convention and I'm standing in line for registration and a guy that had known me since I got sober pulled me aside and said would you share at the midnight meeting? I said you know I'm really not up for it. He said actually you look like you need to share. What I didn't realize was that my outsides
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were starting to match my insides and he could see that. He said look Hilda there will be nobody there. The old timers meeting is going on at the same time. Be really good for you. I was like fine. Whatever. I show up at this midnight meeting. There's 250 people in the room. I cried for the first time in Alcoholics Anonymous. Six and a half years with you I had never cried. In fact when you cried I used to tap your knee.
Sorry. I had no frame of reference. I had nothing. I cried when I shared about my mom. Something happened that night because a guy I barely knew stood up in the back of the room and offered me a flight to Los Angeles if I couldn't afford it. The fellowship of Alcoholics Anonymous touched me that night. It was the first time I realized I was part of something bigger than a meeting. That I was part of a fellowship and that I was in the middle of the bed.
When my mom's operations came up I made sure I was there when she woke up and I was there when she went to sleep. I had spent my entire time in sobriety up until that point, six and a half years asking my sponsor how do I make amends to this woman? My mom. I'm an only child. I tore my mother's heart out. I called her collect from foreign jails when she could do nothing. Robbed my mother of her sanity.
My sponsor kept saying it's God's time not yours. When the time is right you'll know. And you know I love my sponsor. My sponsor is Sharon C. I know some of you know her. She's amazing because she said to me a long time ago that and she shares it a lot when she speaks, that if you're sitting here with us today there are at least ten people digesting their dinner better today. Ten people sleeping better because you're here with us.
I have to tell you my mom is one of the ten. So she had these big operations and when she was asleep I ran across the street the old 202 club in Pasadena was right across from the hospital and ran across to meetings and made sure I was there oddly enough so they say is it odd or is it God? Oddly enough because of what I had been doing at university I got to take my mom home early and I was emptying my mom's tubes one day and she turned to me and said I don't know how I'll ever repay you.
I said you don't get it. Six and a half years I have waited for this moment. When I get to be the daughter you deserved instead of the one you had. And I have to tell you my mom and I have a great relationship today. She's in remission and I love that thing. I love that thing. Life is not measured by the number of breaths you take but by the moments that take your breath away. Because that's been my sobriety.
It has nothing to do with the years. It has to do with those moments. For my mother's 60th birthday she wanted to go back to Ireland and I told her I would take her. So I called my sponsor and I said Sharon my mom wants to go home to Ireland for her 60th birthday and I'm taking her. She said that's great Hilda just remember it's your mother's trip. I said yeah. She goes no I'm serious Hilda. This is your mother's trip.
I said yeah I know. So I took my mom to Ireland and she showed me where she bought her sweets and where she went to school and where she caught the bus and I just wanted to shoot myself. But I remembered it was my mother's trip and I went to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings and they reminded me it was my mother's trip. And we had a great time and we were on Bray Mountain overlooking where she grew up and my mom just turned to me and said you know you've turned into a lovely young woman.
My mom. That's Alcoholics Anonymous. My mom's retired now and she has time on her hands. She doesn't live far from us. We're coming into a whole new chapter. I love my mother. It's funny because I've been in technology most of my life and my mother is an Armani woman. She was an Armani specialist. My mother would spend money on clothes I am the polar opposite of my mother. Just Total, I Am the Polar Opposite of My Mother.
So she called me the other day and she said, I've ordered the internet. I said, no, you didn't.
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She goes, I did, they're delivering it this week. Doesn't get any better than that. So we were in, I moved to Southern California when I was about eight and a half years sober and Southern California AA changed my entire sobriety. My sponsor changed my entire sobriety. I've never been busier in Alcoholics Anonymous before I got her. And she reminded me that page 77 says, I am to fit myself to be of maximum service to God and the people about us.
It does not say in Alcoholics Anonymous. It says to God and the people about us. So I had lost that somewhere along the way and she gave me a whole new lease on sobriety. And in 2008, my partner had some visa difficulties. So we had to go back to Ireland for a year. And I did not get on well in Ireland, but I'm well trained in Alcoholics Anonymous. I phoned my sponsor every day and I phoned her every day from Ireland.
And finally I said, look Sharon, I don't know what to do. And she said, you know, I think it's time you get on an effing plane. And when I hung up the phone, my Julie said to me, what did Sharon say? I said, she told me to get on an effing plane. And Julie said, do you need a lift to the airport? Because we knew we'd figure it out, right? It's Alcoholics Anonymous. So I went back to Southern California.
I was 15 and a half years sober, jobless, penniless, sleeping on my mom's floor. Not where I wanted to be at 15 and a half years sobriety. And it was dark. I could not get a job and I was really feeling low. So I threw myself into the middle of Alcoholics Anonymous. I got busy. And one day I called Sharon and I said, look, I can't get a job. I can't give me mom any money. I feel dreadful. And Sharon said, hang on a minute, Hilda.
Aren't you and your mother having dinner together a couple nights a week? I said, well, yeah. She goes, and aren't you and your mother watching certain television shows together every week? I said, well, yeah. She goes, hmm, don't you think this is another way to make amends to your mother? By allowing her to be a mother? And I, God. So we went from there. And of course, I got a job and Julie got in the country and we both got jobs and we got better cars and nice flats and life took off.
And in 2011, the company I was working for was going under. So I called me mom. I said, mom, this company I'm working for is going under. And she goes, well, you can come live with me. It took my mother 24 hours to realize I had given her bad news. She phoned me the next day. Oh, Hilda, I'm sorry about your job. Too late. In 2012, I was up for two jobs at the same time. One was with the Spirit of Giving.
The other was with Unmanned Drones for the Military. Now, if you've had more than a 10 minute conversation with me, you've probably figured out that I am an Unmanned Drones for the Military kind of girl. My sponsor, who is an ex-bong wine drinking hippie, said to me, I think the Spirit of Giving would be good for you. And I was being a smart ass. I said, why don't we let God decide? She goes, I think that would be a fantastic idea.
You take the job of whoever offers it to you first. So I ended up working for the Spirit of Giving, which had slides from the second floor to the first and barefoot Fridays. It was an adjustment for me, let's say. They did this thing at this company called One Day Without Shoes. And from the time you get up in the morning to the time you go to bed, you don't wear shoes. Now, I am not a barefoot kind of girl.
I don't have any open-toed shoes. I don't own a pair of flip-flops. I did not grow up in Birkenstocks. I'm a little quirky about me toes. And some of the people I work with knew that. So they said to me, why don't you get a pedicure? It might make you feel better about your feet. Now, I'd never had a pedicure. I didn't know anything about pedicures. But I thought, fine, I'll give it a go. So the day before, I went out at lunchtime.
And I went to this pedicure place. And I walk in. And I go, I wonder if I can get a pedicure. And the woman goes, pick a color. I was like, I'm picking a color. I'm picking a color.
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I'm picking a color. I picked red, because it was a color, right? So I'm sitting there. They put my feet in this hot water, right? And I'm like, OK, this might not be too bad, right? And they start putting me hands in water. And I'm like, oh, no, not the hands, not the hands. We're just doing the feet. We're just doing the feet. Nope, they're doing my hands now. And this other woman comes over and goes, massage?
I'm like, no, no. It was not relaxing for me. So I'm talking to my sponsee later that night. And I said to her, I didn't know about this pedicure thing. It was not relaxing for me. And I told her what happened. And she goes, oh, man, you went for a pedicure. And you didn't ask me. I'd have gone with you. And I thought, how sweet is that, that my sponsee would want to go and support me? And she goes, oh, no.
I was going for the show. There's love for you. But the other thing this company did was on your first year anniversary and your third, you went to a third world country and got to put shoes on little kids' feet. And I got to go to Honduras. And I was unplugged for 10 days, which is unheard of for me. And every morning, I got up and got in the van. That's all we did. We got up and got in the van. And we were in this area of Honduras one time where the children are direct descendant of the Mayans.
And the government doesn't acknowledge them. So their schools have no electricity and very little water. And yet, these were the happiest kids I've ever seen. We have a medic with us. And as we're doing the kids' feet, some of their feet are a mess. So the medic takes them away and fixes their feet. And then we give them their shoes. And I had a little fella. And the medic took him away. And he started to cry because he didn't think he was going to get his shoes on.
And he started to cry because he didn't think he was going to get his shoes. And my heart cracked open just a little bit. And as we were packing up to leave, I saw the little fella across the valley with his new shoes in his hands, giving us a wave. And my heart cracked open just a little bit more because I'm not that girl. I'm not that girl. And of course, the point is I almost missed it. I almost missed it.
I am the product of strong sponsorship. I take direction from a woman I respect, but I do not always like, to do things that rarely make sense. In January of last year, I got this email out of nowhere asking for me to send my resume somewhere. Now, I never answer those kind of emails, but I did. And in February, they asked me to go for an in-person interview. I never really do that, but I did. Two weeks after that, I lost my job.
And it was a big reorg. It wasn't personal. It was just business. And as I was packing up that day when I lost my job, as I was leaving, my team, who were very young, came in from lunch after being out together. And they started to cry. And I got to tell them, with a bit of dignity, that it was just business. I got to help them feel better. And when I got in the car, I called my sponsor. And I told her, I lost my job.
And as I was leaving, my kids were coming in. And she goes, oh my god, Hilda, how amazing is that that you care so much about your team? That's a first. And I thought, did you miss the part where I lost my job? But I'd been here before, right? And it wasn't about the other job. I didn't get the other job. I was unemployed for five months. I did not end up on my mother's floor. It was all different this time.
Because I did something different. In fact, I went to Ireland for two weeks on holiday. And my other half turned to me at one point and said, I think this is the first time in a decade that we've been on holiday that you haven't had to look at your phone every two minutes. I got to be present for five months. And in July last year, I was interviewing with a company up in Vancouver, Canada. I'm going to Canada.
I'm going to work in Canada. I am super excited about this job. It's a big job. It's a big title. I am so excited. And my sponsor said, have they offered you a job yet? I said, no, but I've been up four times for these interviews. She goes, then you need to keep interviewing locally. I said, whatever. I'm going to Canada. So I interviewed locally. And I ended up interviewing at this little company down in Long Beach.
And they asked me to go for a second interview. The same week, I went back up to Canada for a fifth interview now. And right after that interview, on my drive home, they called me and offered me the job. And I've already had this conversation with my sponsor, right, God thing? So I took the job.
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So I sent an email to the people in Canada thanking them for the opportunity and yada, yada, yada. The woman calls me from Canada. And she says, look, I passed on your email. But the CEO would really like to have a conversation with you. He'd like to change your mind. And I said to her, if he could change my mind, I'm not the kind of employee he wants because I have a little bit of integrity today.
And of course, that made him want to call me even more because he missed it. He didn't get it, right? But I love that thing. What good are principles if they're only applied when it's convenient? They have to be applied always. And it's actually a great job. And I'm having a good time, so go figure. So I'm almost done with the time. So I never get a chance to talk about my dad. So I'm going to talk about my dad.
His anniversary just passed. And my dad was an amazing guy. Big guy. And in fact, he came to see me in Connecticut when I was living there. And he came at Christmas time. And I was at a Christmas party. And it was an open bar. And I was drinking black Russians all night. And my boss was mortified that she had to call my father to come get me because I was so drunk. And my dad came in. And he literally threw me over his shoulder because he was a big guy.
And he was apologizing to my boss. And my boss was like, no, no, my bad. I didn't know she was drinking so much. And my dad went, no, please. It is not the first time Hilda fought the Russians and lost. He knew from the gate. Now, my dad is buried in Arlington National Cemetery. I did not know that was a big deal when I buried him. I was drunk when I buried him. I was 20 years of age. I was an embarrassment.
And I didn't know that if you didn't have this particular piece of paper, that when you went to Arlington National Cemetery, you would take a little bus around like a tour bus. I didn't know any of that. And I got this little paper when he died. And I've been all over the world, drunk and sober. And I was going back to Washington DC for a work conference. And Sharon said, I think it's time. I think it's time you did some graveside amends for your dad.
And I was like, yeah, I can do that. So I found this piece of paper, not having seen it for probably 21 years. And I put my hands straight on it. And when we got to DC, we rented a car. And we put it in the dash. And as we drove into Arlington National Cemetery, the guards at the gate came to attention and saluted. And I wasn't ready for it. And I drove straight to my dad's grave. And I'm not quite sure how that happens.
But I was standing at my dad's grave. And I realized something. I realized that my father would be proud of me today. Not because I got me bachelor's or me master's, or that I've been in a healthy relationship for over 20 odd years, or that I'm 24 years sober, or that I've been of service to my mother. None of that would have bothered my dad. None of that would have mattered. The only thing my father ever wanted for me was that I had a little bit of grace and dignity.
Alcoholics Anonymous has given me that. I came to you a lying, bedwetting whore. And somewhere along the way, you have turned me into a good friend, a loving and monogamous wife, and a true daughter to my mother. And for that, I thank you. Thank you.