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Source: Misoon W – From Jacksonville, Florida – Date Unknown.mp3 File: misoon-w-from-jacksonville-florida-date-unknown.mp3 Duration: 00:51:02
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To speak tonight, I picked her up from the airport today and within 10 minutes of knowing her, me and her had a God moment. We were driving down the highway and we were talking about putting people on a pedestal and she gave me like an illustration. It's not like putting people up on a pedestal, it's about markers on the side of the highway. And each marker you pass, it's getting you to your destination and it's the journey.
And as soon as we were talking about markers and using them as mentors, we passed the mentor exit and we started getting goose bumps. So with nothing further from me, here's Massoon. I'm an alcoholic, my name is Massoon. I am so nervous. Thank you for inviting me, Dolly. Yeah, that really happened, but the marker thing, I stole it from Ralph White. I didn't say it. Which was really weird. It's like mentor Ohio.
But thank you for getting me from the airport. And she's just as cute as she can be. Gosh. Thank you for being here. Wow, this room is packed. Anyway, it's good to see some friends that I haven't seen. And I know some faces. I love coming to Ohio because I know a few people here. And it's like a home. Of course, I'm a fan of Dr. Bob, so you have to like Ohio. And people overhear me talking to my sponsors or something when I'm in a trade show or business trips or something like that.
And somebody would always overhear it and they go, are you a friend of Bill's? And I'll say, no, I'm a friend of Dr. Bob. Anyway, so I just love Ohio. And through God's grace and program of Alcoholics Anonymous and sponsorship, I've been sober since January 27th, 1995. And for that, thank you. I am grateful. And I am so nervous, I don't know. Anyway, I'm just going to tell my story. And then we'll see how it goes.
I was born in San Diego. My parents were married and they already had like two kids. And then they moved to San Diego. They live in Seoul, Korea. They still do. And they moved to San Diego because my dad wanted to get his degree in whatever, microbiology. All my siblings and my dad, they got that thing behind it next to their name, like PhD, doctorate, whatever. I don't, however. I was busy doing something else.
But anyway, so they were over there and they had another girl and then they had me. I was the fourth girl to be born, which is a bad thing in Korea. If you're a woman, you get married and then you start having kids and you're supposed to have sons. And my mom had first one was girl, second one was girl, third one was girl, then I was the fourth one. So when I was born, apparently she was devastated and she didn't look at me for three days or something and cried.
And that was the, I know, right? That was the story I was telling for, I don't know, as long as I've been sober. Last year, I was with my family, my sisters actually, and I was telling them about that part and they said, that's not the whole story. And I said, because I said, why did they tell me that? If they didn't tell me that, I will not know. Then my mom didn't want to see me. And they said, no, the story, they told you the story because, yes, mom was so devastated because you're a girl again.
But what happened was my dad would bring me to her like almost every hour and saying what a beautiful baby I was. And I don't know why I don't remember that part of the story. And like Sandy Bee used to say, the longer he stays sober, the happier his childhood gets.
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So I guess that's how it goes.
[00:05:02]
And when I was two years old, my dad got his degree and we moved back to Seoul, Korea, and that's where I grew up. And three years later, my brother was born, thank God. And they stopped having kids altogether. And my parents basically spent all their time, energy, and money trying to educate us. It was very important to them, you know, higher education. It was very, very important to them. And so we had to go to those, you know, top schools and we had to be number one in class.
And then besides that, we had to take all this extra stuff like, you know, piano lessons and violin lessons and swimming lessons and figure skating. It just went on and on and on. And my sisters and my brother were excellent in school. They were so smart and they were so good at everything. However, I wasn't. I have a dyslexia and I'm left-handed. Not that that makes you stupid, but it does in Korea.
So I had a… And because when you're trying to write with the left hand, the teachers come over and whack you on the hand with rulers and stuff. So I just stopped taking notes. That's probably why I wasn't doing so good in school, but that's what happened. And so immediately, my parents just decided that I was stupid, which makes sense. You know, if you have five kids and you provide the exact same environment to all of them and they all do well except one, I mean, that kid has to be stupid.
So that's what they called me. My sisters called me that. My brother called me that. And I accepted it. I was okay with it. But besides that, there were a lot of, you know, verbal and physical abuse because, you know, I wasn't doing well in school. I don't know if they thought that they could beat the smart into me or something. So there were, like, a lot of choking and, you know, one time they came after me with a kitchen knife.
They both did it, too, my mom and dad. It wasn't like one was doing it and the other one was trying to protect me, but they were both at it, which is kind of good because I never got confused. And, you know, like pulling my hair out and, you know, things like that. And one time they took me over to this bridge. I was, like, seven years old and they said, if you can't do any better in school, you should just jump off this bridge.
And the reason I tell you this is to say one thing or maybe two things. It probably made me intensely neurotic, but it did not make me an alcoholic. That is the only reason I say this. I'm only an alcoholic. It doesn't matter how I grew up or what kind of parents I had, how my sisters were, how my brother was. It does not matter. You know, I'm an alcoholic because when I take that drink, I get the special effect, quote, unquote.
And just like the doctor's opinion says, men and women essentially drink because they like the effect produced by alcohol. I didn't like it. I loved it. But I didn't know that. And so when I was about 15 years old and my parents had decided to ship me off to this boarding school in North Carolina, where it was an art school and I studied fine art and there were music and dance and drama people. And one area was junior high, high school kids, and across the campus was college dorm, which were not allowed to go.
And when I got there, I couldn't speak English. So I was totally lost. I thought I was lost when I was at home in school, and it was even worse here because I couldn't talk. And I think the kids were trying to be my friend, but they were kids themselves, junior high, high school kids, so they were afraid of me because they knew that's the one who can't talk kind of thing. And so I was in class and I had no clue what's going on in class.
I didn't know the homework. I didn't know any of that. And I was literally so isolated. And I remember reading Bill's story about the loneliness, how he was tortured by loneliness, and I remember reading that and thinking about that school because that's how I felt. And during the breaks, like spring break or Thanksgiving, all the parents come and they pick up their kids and the whole school is empty and nobody's there.
And I remember walking up and down the hallway and the only sound I hear is the echo of my footsteps,
[00:10:00]
and I didn't know why I was there. And when I read the vision for you, after I came to Alcoholics Anonymous, it talks about that we can't imagine life without alcohol. We're jumping a place we wish for the end. And I remember going back to that moment, walking up and down the hallway and thinking, I don't want to be here and I can't imagine my life at this school and I cannot imagine my life at home.
I was jumping a place. And I got really depressed and I didn't know what to do. I didn't know why I was there and I was only 15 years old. But there were a group of kids. I met them in a cafeteria. They sat way in the back in this big round table. They were high school kids. And back then you were allowed to smoke. I don't think they had a smoking age back then. I don't know. I'm old. So anyway, they let me sit with them in the cafeteria.
They didn't mind that I was there. They didn't go, oh, that's the one, can't talk. But I think they were too stoned to notice me. I really do. But anyways, they let me sit with them. I was allowed to hang with them. I was allowed to tag along wherever they went. And I did everything they did. A lot of them had black clothes with military army boots unlaced. One of them had pink mohawk. Anyway, I thought that was really strange hairdo.
And they listened to things like The Clash and the Sex Pistols. Oh, yeah. Hey, I didn't know what they were singing about, but I knew it was really loud. And they taught me how to smoke cigarettes. They smoked cigarettes, so they taught me how to smoke cigarettes. Lucky Strike. Unfiltered. Yeah. I'm here to tell you you can learn how to smoke cigarettes without speaking English. But they were, I mean, I just hung out with them.
And one day they were, like, really excited. It was Friday, and they skipped dinner, and they were going somewhere. So I tagged along, and what they did is they bribed some college kids and got some alcohol and funny cigarettes. I knew they were stoned. But anyway, and we went to this place, and, you know, they were just handing out this beer. And I don't remember what kind it was. I don't remember, you know, the taste.
Some people remember the taste. I don't remember the taste at all. But when they handed me this bottle of beer, like, I instinctively knew. I don't know where that came from. I instinctively knew I was supposed to chug it, not sip it. I don't know where that came from because I never saw my parents drink. I wish they had, but they never did. And I never seen anybody really drink. But I knew. I knew that.
I instinctively knew that. And I remember chugging this whole thing, and I remember it like it was yesterday. And they had the feelings all the way, tingly feelings all the way down to my fingertips. And the most amazing thing happened. Apparently, when I was drunk, I spoke English. And my gosh, I was talking with them. They were laughing with me. They were probably laughing at me. But it didn't matter to me because in my, wow.
In my reality, what I was doing is I was conversing with them. I was part of. I was having fun. And I drank. The first time I ever took a drink, I drank to pass out. And I thought that's what you all did. You know, they're supposed to do that. And so that's how I drank. And I tell you, after that moment, that was the only thing that was on my mind. I was obsessed about how am I going to get this alcohol.
I mean, I thought about it every day. And I don't know why you guys drink. But after all, I lived in America. And I had to speak English every day. So I had to drink every day. And that's just how it was. And it was like, you know, I remember sitting in the classroom thinking about how am I going to get this alcohol. Who am I supposed to bribe? Who is the kid, you know, college kid I'm supposed to go to?
I mean, just obsessed with all these thoughts. And so that's how I spent, you know, basically my high school days trying to drink almost every day. And it's kind of hard when you're underage. But eventually I learned how to make fake ID. Mine was very good because I studied art. Mine was very good because I studied art and I didn't get caught. You could buy alcohol with student ID, fake ID, back then. Those were good old days, I guess.
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And about a year later in that school, you know, I was able to understand what was going on in class and da da da da. And I was accepted to this art school in New York City. So I got to New York City and, I mean, party, party, party every day. And the great thing about New York City is that they have gallery openings. It starts Thursday, 6 o'clock. They have Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. And what they do is that they serve cheap wine for free. And so you could get drunk, like, for free, which is the greatest thing. So I will do that.
I'll go to all these gallery openings. And back in the 80s, they had galleries everywhere. They had galleries in the East Village. They had galleries in Soho. They had galleries in the Upper East Side. They had galleries in the Upper West Side. I mean, they're just everywhere. And you just hit all these places and get totally wasted for free, which is just great. And then I will go to clubs. I was one of those club kids. No, I was a wannabe club kid, but I really wasn't.
But I was hanging out at all these clubs. You name it, I was there. I knew all the bouncers. I knew the after-hour clubs. I knew the secret knock to the back door to the after-hour clubs. I don't even know how I got out of college, but that's what I did. And of course, during the club days, they had a lot of stuff, which was just really fun. So I started to do those outside issues that you could snort and take and whatever. It doesn't matter. Powder form, pill form, liquid form, just give it to me.
I don't care. And that's how I was. I mean, I didn't have a drug of choice, I guess. I wasn't too choosy, I suppose. When I was a senior in college, I was able to get a job where I got to travel all over the United States and all over Europe installing artwork for artists there. I got to go to one of those best museums in the world in the United States. I was installing stuff in MoMA and Whitney in New York City.
Man, that's a great city, I have to say. Hard to get out of there, but it's fun while you're there. And then I continued to drink, and I don't know why that happens, but the consumption keeps increasing. And so I'm drinking all day, basically, and I'm missing… So I start hearing from people in my job, they were saying things like, what is wrong with her? Why is she always late? Why can't she keep up with her appointment?
Or, I mean, Europeans told me I drank too much, which I thought was kind of offensive, because they drink all day. So I started to hear these things, and I knew I was in trouble, and I had to do something about it. And so I thought about it for a while, and I decided to quit the job. So I did. So I could drink all day, and nobody would nag me. You know, I lived by myself in New York City in an apartment.
So I thought it was a great idea, and it was for a while, until my money ran out. I hate when that happens. My God, I wish I didn't have to have money to do these things, but gosh, it always costs money. So I thought about it for a while, and I decided to get a part-time job, because I don't want to ruin my drinking career by getting a full-time job. So it just gets in the way. So I got a part-time job with a dance company, which is another great job.
But what started to happen is I am consuming these things more and more, and I'm not making enough money. So I'm always short. So what I started to do is I started to steal and cheat and lie to all my friends.
[00:20:03]
I even stole from my employer. I heard somebody say, I just kept giving myself raises. But that's what happened, and what happens is that I sold my soul little by little for that next drink, until I violated every ounce of my spiritual being. I heard somebody say that when men walked through the doors of AA, they hated what they had done. And when women walked through the doors of AA, they hated who they had become.
I'm not sure if that's true, because I'm not a man. I don't know how they feel. But I do know that when I walked through the doors of AA, I hated what I had done, and I hated who I had become through alcoholism. Although I didn't know I had alcoholism. So by the time winter of 1994 and January of 1995 came around, I was sitting by myself in this Upper East Side apartment. I didn't have anything left. I sold everything for that next drink.
I remember there was a lamp over here, and there was a corner of my IC3 garbage can full of my own vomit. I was about to get fired from my job. It happens when you don't go to work. I was about to be evicted from my apartment. It happens when you don't pay the rent. I was facing homelessness, I guess, and I didn't know what to do. I get to a point where I'm looking at the stuff I have, vodka, and I'm thinking, I don't want to be sober. I don't want to be drunk. I just want to check out.
I got to the point where I couldn't imagine my life without alcohol. I was jumping off a place I wished for the end, and I didn't know how to do that. I thought about getting a gun, but then I didn't know who has a gun in New York, so I said, forget that. Then I thought, maybe I'll jump off the bridge, but it's very cold in New York in January. So I thought, no, I'm not going to do that either. Then I remember a couple of my friends who died of overdose, and I thought, I could do that.
So I gathered all the stuff I had, pills and powder, and I remember I had vodka. So I took everything, and I drank the whole bottle, and I passed out. I didn't die. Anyway, when I came through, there was a knock on the door. My sister was standing there with one of her best friends, who used to be my drinking buddy. By the way, he lives in Ohio. Anyway, I thought he drank more than I did, but they were both standing there.
My sister looked at me with so much anger and disgust, and she said, what were you doing last night? So I told her that I was trying to kill myself, and she said, how are you going to do that? So I told her that I took everything and drank the bottle of vodka. She looked at me and said, I wish you would have taken more. At the time, she would rather see me dead than the way I looked that night, that morning.
My friend died, his name is Dave. I really didn't want to see him either, because I stole $800 from him. I wasn't too happy to see him either, but he was the one who had to get my last drink. So I would go through withdrawal while I was traveling down to Jacksonville. That's where she lived. My sister lived in Jacksonville, and she flew to New York and came with him. She was too afraid to come by herself.
After I got to AA, I was making these amends. I was making $4.75 an hour, part-time at that. My sponsor said, you have to make amends for that. I said, I don't have $800. It's crazy they make you do these things, and you're totally broke. She said, I don't care. By the way, it's not $800. You have to add interest. I said, what's an interest? Anyway, I had to do that. I sent him $20 a month, I think, and paid all that back.
We kept in touch. When you make amends for that, you're not just paying the money back. What I'd done to him was that I stole security, trust, and friendship from him as well. In that process, we got to be friends again.
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Five years ago, I got a phone call from him. It was 15 years after he'd seen me the last day in my worst shape. He called me and said, I want to go to Alcoholics Anonymous because you've been a good example to me. That has nothing to do with me. I know that it's God, but it happens in this room. The people get from there to here. I talked to him almost every day. He just celebrated five years past February.
It's amazing that things happen in the AA. Anyway, my sister grabbed some stuff from my apartment. We flew down to Jacksonville, Florida. She put me to the worst detox there is in Jacksonville. They don't even have it anymore. What happened was that she's been going to Al-Anon meetings in Jacksonville, Florida, which I didn't know about. They're the ones who told her what to do. They gave her all the instructions.
They're the ones who said, don't send her to any fancy rehab. Send her to the worst place you could think of. After I came to AA, I understood what Al-Anon was about. It made sense to me. I remember calling her when I was in New York and I said, I'm broke. Send me money. She'll send me a meditation book. I tried to sell that. Nobody wants that crap. As a matter of fact, I still have it. What happened was that basically those people in Al-Anon rooms, their love for another alcoholic that they didn't even know, reached me all the way from Jacksonville to New York City and saved my life.
A lot of times we sit around in our home groups and get all comfortable, because you know everybody, and have fun and say things like, if they want the help, they'll come and get it. I'll tell you what. I didn't go to anyone. I didn't call anyone. I didn't make an appointment with anyone. I didn't reach out to anyone. Help came to me. It came from Rooms of Al-Anon family group. I'm glad Bill Wilson didn't wait around for Dr. Bob to show up and get his help.
Bill Wilson showed up at Dr. Bob's house. That's why we have this thing. I was in detox. I was supposed to be there over the weekend, but they kept me for ten days for I don't know why. I just didn't like this place very much. I had to wear this blue dungaree with a reflected number on the back, painted on the back. I don't know if they're going to shoot me if I try to run away. That was the uniform, I guess, we had to wear.
Sorry, I keep doing that. Anyway, one day they said, how come you're not coming to these AA meetings? I said, well, I'm not an alcoholic. Because what happens outside AA, people come and give meetings in the evenings. I wouldn't go to any because I said I wasn't an alcoholic. They said, well, if you don't go, we're not going to let you out. I thought, that's not good. I went to one of these meetings.
It was Friday night. One girl from AA came. I don't know what they did. I really couldn't care less. I sat in the back with my back turned with the whole door open so they could see me in there. I really couldn't care less what they had to say. I didn't listen to anything. I think they told their story. I don't know. Who wants to listen to that? I don't know. Who wants to listen to this? Anyway. But this woman that was there, she came and talked to me after the meeting.
She was like 6'1", and she was beautiful, very well-dressed, and she was happy. She was just so happy. She just went on and on about something, very excited about something. I am withdrawing here. I'm in detox, okay? She said, I don't remember anything she said except two things. She said, God loves you and AA works. I just wanted to hit her. Gosh, I was tired. Gosh, I was tired and, you know, I was like, okay, whatever. Anyway, she gave me her phone
[00:30:00]
number. She said, call me when you get out. I'm like, yeah, right. Anyway, it was a Sunday. I got out. My sister came and picked me up and she looked at me and she said, you disgust me. And she didn't have to tell me that because I knew that in my heart. I knew that. The pitiful incomprehensible demoralization. Anyway, so I had to live with my sister because I didn't have anything and she was trying to kill me every day. But I called this woman and she was so excited. Oh, my gosh. She said, oh, my God, I cannot believe you called. Nobody ever calls me from detox. And she takes me to the first AA outside meeting that day.
The day I got out of detox. And I could not tell you why I did that because I grew up in a family where atheists, there's no God, you know, God is for stupid people and blah, blah, blah. And I used to tell that to my sponsor, God is for stupid people. And she used to say, oh, I guess then you won't have any problem. My God. And so I go to this meeting. She's like trying to take me to these meetings and oh, my gosh, I'm not one of these people who like fell in love with AA. Polly did. Polly loved AA. Fellowship and everybody and just she just loved it. And I just I could not stand it. I didn't I didn't I didn't like the things on the wall. I didn't like the people. I didn't like woman, man, don't matter, equal opportunity, hater. I just couldn't do people. And they were just oh, my God, they were so happy. And and especially when you're a newcomer. And they would say things like, oh, you must be newcomer. What's your name? And it just I don't know. I was so angry all the time. I would say this is anonymous program. You don't have to know my name. And I don't have to know your name. Back off is what I said. And what's up with the hugs?
And, you know, they want to give me a hug. And I say, hey, I don't need a hug. And they're trying to trick me and say things like, what if I need one? And I would say, don't don't be so needy. Back off. You're like in my personal space. And and they would say things like you ain't from around here. Where you from? And that would just take me off to no end. So I will say I'm from detox. Where are you from? And it was just on and on and on. And the girl that was, you know, came to detox, I kind of asked her to be my sponsor. But, you know, she's just annoyingly happy. And oh, gosh, I was just so angry. And I so I started to get this reputation in AA. Like I walk into a clubhouse. I walked a meeting every day. Because, you know, I didn't have I didn't have a car. I didn't know how to drive. Never got DUI. You live in New York City. You don't drive. Nobody has a license.
So they will they will they'll see me walk in, you know, and they go, oh, my God, it's her again. Don't talk to her. She's really mean. And things like that. And I don't know what is it's it's a God thing, because I walked to three meetings a day every day for first year, even though I hated AA so much. And today I know that God had walked me to every one of those meetings so I could be here today. And I didn't know it back then.
And so I was known for this hostile person. And I remember one guy finally came up and asked said, hey, you're walking around pissed off all the time. Do you think AA stands for angry Asian? It wasn't that funny. Trust me. Anyway, I was so shocked. He said that I didn't even get mad at him. I got mad at him later. But anyway, so and then this sponsor I had, you know, she was just kind of annoying, but she was saving my life. And I didn't know that. That's how, you know, that's how blind I am. So I had to get rid of her. I said,
[00:35:00]
hey, this is not working out. So I'm going to get another sponsor. And she said, oh, thank God my prayer has been answered. So I got this another sponsor. And she's the one who took me through the steps. And I never forget the day that we did this fifth step with her. I did. And I had to tell all those things I'd done by selling my soul. And she shared a lot of things with me and her experience and her story. But what she did was she came around and gave me a hug. And she said she loved me after I told all that. And I didn't know how anybody could love somebody like that. But I believed her. And she was my sponsor for the next seven years. She died of lung cancer when I was seven years sober. And her kids never forgave her. So I was taking care of her, basically. And she had to be in the hospice. But I couldn't call the hospice. I wasn't a family member. It was a whole mess.
But when I was seven years sober, it was the worst time in my sobriety. I was, I thought work was going to fix it. So I was working 78 hours a week. And then my marriage was falling apart. We got divorced. And it was a horrible marriage. And it just didn't work out. And all that thing was happening all at once. And my sponsor was dying of cancer. I wasn't even going home. I mean, I'd go to work and I'd go take care of her. And then I'd go to the hotel. That's where I lived. And nobody even in AA knew what I was doing.
Because I was going to meetings. I was trying to sponsor people. And I had a sponsor. I had a service job. But I couldn't tell them any of that. And I remember in the hotel room one night, that thought comes to me again. I can't imagine life with alcohol or without alcohol. I don't want to be sober. I don't want to be drunk. I just want to check out. And the only reason I went to the meetings is because my sponsor wanted to go to meetings. And I had to take her to the meetings. I had to take her after chemo. You know, all her hair fell out. And you know, I'll take her to these meetings she wanted to go to with the oxygen tank. And that is the only reason I was going to meetings. And I didn't know it then. But what she was doing is, as she was dying, she was saving my life. And around that time, I was asked to go to woman's retreat for heaven's sakes. Ladybug retreat down in Georgia, actually. Vivian does it. And that was the first time I ever went. I didn't even go to woman's meeting because they're always crying like I'm doing now. Jesus. But what happened was that seven years, all that was happening, but it wasn't really that. And what it was is that I had a resentment against my parents that I couldn't let go. And I remember when I was six months sober, my mom wanted to come see me. She flew half around the world and wanted to see how I was doing. And I didn't like that idea. And I remember she wanted to meet my sponsor, the one who died of lung cancer. And she came and I took her to that AA clubhouse and she sees my sponsor, my mom, and goes over to my sponsor and hugs her. And then I see her shoulders trembling and she starts sobbing, my mom. And she says, I overhear her say, thank you for saving my daughter's life. And this is what I did. This anger shot through my body, whole body from top to bottom. And my fists went like this, my jaws were locked.
And I was thinking, you know what, it's a little too late. You're trying to care about me now, after all this time, it's just a little too late. You abused me, you neglected me, you're a sorry example of a mother. That's all I had, six months sober. And that resentment would last me seven years. In rooms of AA, I became ineffective and useless. I couldn't sponsor anybody because they said I was mean. And they would keep firing me.
[00:40:02]
And so what I was doing is I was living out my parents' pathology. I wasn't beating them up but I was doing it with words. And I did not know that. And it literally killed me. So I go to this woman's retreat. And I hear Polly say, how did your mother grow up? And then I hear Michael say, before I tell you about my childhood, let me tell you about my mother's. And then it hit me. In the big book of Alcoholics Anonymous, it says we disregard other people involved entirely. That's entirely. Bob T always says, that's more than half.
And that perhaps these people are spiritually sick like us. What does that mean? I get to put myself in their shoes. And I did that. I thought about how my parents grew up. They grew up terrible. My dad grew up so, so, so poor. They didn't even have shoes to walk to school. None of them got proper education except for my dad. But he did it on his own. I think that's why he was obsessed with education. But they had nine siblings and three of them had to die from hunger and neglect. And his father would disappear for no reason. They don't know what was going on. And his mother, who couldn't read or write, had to go from house to house to house, bag for bag of rice, so she could feed these kids. And three of them still had to die from hunger and neglect. And they grew up during Japan ruled Korea for 36 years. It's a Nazi version of Japanese people, I guess. And they abused a lot of kids around that area, around that time. And my mom was like eight or nine years old. And she was kicked in the gut by a Japanese principal because she refused to wear the Japanese name tag. And so you didn't have your name anymore. You had to be Japanese named. They made it up and gave you a name tag. And she knew if she wore that at home, she was going to get a lot of beating. So she said she didn't want to wear it. And then they gather all the kids and all the teachers in the schoolyard. And this Japanese principal with the black leather boots kicked her in the gut. And when she tried to stand up, he kicked her again and again and again. And I'm sure at the time she didn't want to be there and she didn't want to be home either. And one of her earliest memories is that her older sister was in her father's arms. She wasn't breathing, but she had hand marks all over her. And we don't know what happened. She may have died of disease, but it doesn't matter. I mean, those are the things that my parents walked through. And when I thought about that, what I started to get was this understanding. I began to understand the St. Francis prayer. What we're getting is compassion. And compassion is, Polly always says that it is the highest form of spirituality. And I began to understand them before I was understood. I began to love them before I was loved. I began to comfort them before I was comforted. And the resentment was gone. And it was the huge turning point in my sobriety. None of my sponsors were firing me anymore. And work was getting better. I didn't have to work 80 hours a week. Like I thought, if I wasn't there, they're going to collapse. It doesn't happen. And my sponsor passed on. I got divorced. But it was a whole other life. I didn't know. I got so excited.
And that's how it's been ever since. I tell you that I get to be a parent. I get to play a parent for my niece. She had to go to college in Boston a couple of years. And I went to the parent's orientation and all that stuff. And that would have never happened if it wasn't for Alcoholics Anonymous. Because 20 years ago, my sister didn't trust me with a $5 bill. And it was more than money.
[00:45:02]
convention in Orlando and this is after I'd done all that work and we were driving around and all that stuff. I came, picked him up and then we took him to, I took him to St. Augustine and all that stuff and while I was driving home, we were just talking about this and that. He put his hand on my knee at one point and he said, I wish I could have been a better dad to you. And that's how the, you know, healings begin, I think.
And I never expected to hear any of that from my parents because I was okay, I was done. And another thing I was so grateful to AA is that those first seven years that I resented my parents, they didn't know, they had no idea I had that much resentment against them because you guys told me, be the best daughter you could be. I was doing the action part. I was doing the, you know, the cards and the letters and the plane tickets and whatever they needed.
I was just doing the action part even though I didn't want to do it and I'm so grateful for that because I didn't have to re-hurt them in order to make that amend. And my parents used to come over all the time and visit everybody but they can't do that anymore. My dad is okay. He probably outlived us. But my mom is not doing well health-wise so we started to go see them. And back in 2009, I went home and one of the last days I was there, my mom was folding laundry and she just looked so old and tired.
And I was rubbing her back and I said to her, I said, Mom, you look so tired. And she turned around and she took my hand and she said, I'm not proud of a lot of things done in my life but I am most sorry for how I treated you. And at that moment, I knew I was forgiven for the things I'd done, the person I became through alcoholism. And that it was like, you know, it's like I just knew. It's like the little piece of the soul that I sold for the next drink came back.
I am forever grateful for Alcoholics Anonymous for teaching me the ways and telling me what to do even though I didn't want to do it. Right now, I don't know, maybe this is another chapter, but I had to leave my job and I started my own business. Now I'm moving and my house is up there. But I know where I'm supposed to be. And this is where I'm supposed to be. And I know that I'm going to be okay. And I just want to say a couple of things before I check out.
But my sister, who saved my life, anyway, she loves AA. She thinks everybody should go to AA. She said, they make human being out of people. She promotes it to anybody who will listen. Anyways, and that's how I feel about AA, you know. Dr. Young, we know the history here, I'm sure. You guys are Ohio people, so I know. Anyway, Dr. Young, he went to see Roland. No, Roland Hazard went to see Dr. Young.
Anyway, like Bill Wilson wrote him and said what happened with AA and all that stuff. He died in 1961. But on the deathbed, BBC decided to interview him. And one of the last questions they asked Dr. Young was, do you believe there is God? And he paused and he said, I don't believe, I know. And that's how I see these things. You know, I don't have to believe, I don't have to come to believe, it just is.
And just like one of my favorite promises in Alcoholics Anonymous, the big book, it says, it works. It really does. I don't have to know anything else, really.
[00:50:01]
One of the last sentences of Dr. Young's opinion, it says that he may come to scoff, but he may remain to pray. And I tell you that I came here doing more than scoffing. As you heard only a small part of my story. But not only that you guys let me remain here, you guys didn't kick me out. You guys let me remain here. You also helped me find power greater than myself that I could call God today. And also you guys patiently taught me how to pray so I could remain to pray with you.
So thank you. Thank you.