Heartland Intergroup

"A Daily Reprieve" - Our Stories of Everyday Life in Sobriety

A.A. is home to many members with meaningful articles, stories, photographs, and art that can inspire others. Heartland Intergroup welcomes your contributions for possible publication in the Intergrouper Newsletter and on our website.

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Our Experience, Strength, and Hope

Walking in sobriety is the gift that keeps on giving.

I am now enjoying a life I never thought I would be living

Gone are the headaches and the blackouts

My life are now filled with gratitude

What I did the night before is no longer in doubt.

Memory lost does not plague me

Because the night before is no longer a mystery.

I awake now with a sense and clarity and purpose

Knowing that attending meetings regularly is a must.

Surrendering to my higher power has opened new doors

Doors I would have never ventured into before.

With my home group there supporting me

I look forward to living this life in victory

Thank you Bob

Thank you Bill

Thank you God.

I remember thinking that it was not a big deal and shouldn’t be a surprise,
But when I wanted to go out at midnight for more beer, I saw shock in his eyes.
I thought it was only fair to yell and scream when he said no,
And then I proceeded to run out the door even though I had nowhere to go.

 When I said I was ready to stop and had had enough,
His eyes showed no sign of believing that I would ever give up.
When I told him his disbelief was the cause of my next drink,
I saw pity in his eyes for the first time, I think.

 When Momma died and I drank through night and day,
I couldn’t see what his eyes said because he just looked away. 
When he did look at me, I couldn’t look back.
My disease told me I had every right to drink, and he had no right to attack.

 When he said he was leaving, I thought he was joking.
As he packed his bag, His eyes held a seriousness that need not be spoken.
Even though he was the only one who was by my side through it all,
Almost losing him didn’t make me honest with myself at all.

 I started working the steps and I saw hope in his eyes again,
I had to face every sordid fact of who I had been,
Asking his forgiveness was hardly enough.
He had been down that road and was calling my bluff.

Years into the program and now a different version of myself,
The look in his eyes really is something else.
For the first time, maybe forever, there is something I thought I would never see.
In his eyes is a loving glance letting me know that he finally trusts
me.

Another sober day. I’m grateful to be here. My name is Miracle, and I’m an alcoholic.

I grew up on an Indian Reservation where drinking felt like a rite of passage. From the outside, my family looked accomplished—my mother was a teacher, and my grandfather had been a senator. But inside, I always felt inadequate. My father, an alcoholic, seemed disappointed in me, and I became quiet, shy, and afraid of criticism. Alcohol became my way to feel “normal.” It gave me confidence, eased my fears, and let me pretend I belonged. I thought I was in control, but my life showed otherwise: broken relationships, self-centeredness—and a sense of not fitting in.

As an adult, I opened my own business and befriended a shop owner next door who always had fun drinking. My drinking wasn’t fun at all. It meant blackouts, regret, and waking up to the unknown. I’d promise myself I would only drink “two,” but my two were giant 12-ounce cups. I’d drink before going out to feel normal. The bottle slowly became my constant companion.

What pushed me toward Alcoholics Anonymous wasn’t jail or a lost job—it was the disappointment I felt in myself and the harm I caused my family. I knew I needed to stop but couldn’t. My wife found AA first; I went with her but kept insisting I wasn’t like “those people.” I heard readings, especially “More About Alcoholism,” but continued convincing myself that I was different. Alcoholics are experts at self-deception, and I was no exception.

I didn’t come to AA because I wanted to—I came because life became unbearable. I called an AA number, and the man who answered simply said, “Come on in—this is the perfect place for someone new.” I sat in the parking lot terrified, afraid I’d be recognized or judged. But I walked inside, and that moment changed my life.

In AA, I found a fellowship of people from backgrounds that would never mix anywhere else—yet I immediately felt I belonged. Hearing others share helped me recognize my own story. Bit by bit, the honesty, humility, and shared experience began to heal me.

Sobriety didn’t come overnight. It came from taking suggestions, working the program, and practicing openness and willingness. Today, I try to live in a way I won’t regret tomorrow. I don’t try to analyze my Higher Power—I simply trust Him. He has relieved me of the burden of self-obsession.

My gratitude today goes far beyond simply not drinking. It includes the ability to help others. When AA asks me to serve, I do my best to show up. And when the thought creeps in that maybe I can drink like a “normal” person, I remind myself exactly where that thinking leads.

AA has given me friends, purpose, and a life better than I ever imagined. My job is to stay humble, follow suggestions, and continue the spiritual actions that keep me sober.

That truly is a miracle.

Sobriety has introduced me to the person I
always wanted to know
I knew she existed but I could not find her in
the places I’d go.
In my searching I was introduced to alcohol,
I felt it was the key,
but it was only counterfeit joy and unable to
bring her to me.
This imposter had me fooled for quite some
time,
until I realized that I was living a life and no
longer mine.
It lured me further and further from the girl I
was. Forgetting about the girl I wanted to be,
and realizing that I was completely unable to
break free.
This imposter had stolen me from me.
When I came to this frightening realization, I
knew then that I needed help. I now saw that
I had become morally, spiritually and
physically depleted. I knew alone that I
could not defeat it.
I was introduced to the solution by a person
faithfully working his 12th step, He told me
to go to an AA meeting and there I would
find my help.
I walked in the door and suddenly felt safe
and loved, which was strange for me, but I
desperately accepted it. There was much I
accepted that day and I now felt, one day at
a time, I was on my way.
Three enlightening, fellowshipping,
determined years later I am happy, joyous
and free. I realize it’s going to take a lot of
work to restore my sanity.
BUT I FINALLY INTRODUCED MYSELF TO
ME.

When I first walked into an A.A. meeting in the Heartland area, I didn’t come because I wanted to stop drinking. I came because I had run out of answers. My drinking had stopped being “social” a long time before that, but I still believed my real problem was stress, other people, or bad luck. Alcohol, I thought, was my solution.

By the time I arrived at my first meeting, alcohol had stopped working the way it once did. What began as ease and comfort had become isolation and fear. I made promises in the morning and broke them by evening. I told myself I would have just one, and I meant it — until I didn’t. I lived in that exhausting cycle for years.

That first meeting, I didn’t understand much of what was said. But I remember clearly hearing someone describe drinking the way I drank — the obsession before the first drink and the inability to stop after I started. They spoke about hiding bottles, about guilt and shame, about swearing off and then picking up again. For the first time, I felt less alone. No one tried to fix me. No one lectured me. They simply shared their experience, strength, and hope.

I kept coming back, not because I was convinced, but because something in me wanted what they had — a quiet steadiness I hadn’t felt in years. I heard about the Steps and the suggestion to get a sponsor. I didn’t like the idea of surrender, but I liked even less the idea of continuing the way I was living.

Working the Twelve Steps showed me that alcohol was not just a habit; it was the symptom of a deeper spiritual illness. I learned that my willpower alone was never going to be enough. Through inventory and amends, I began to see my part in the chaos of my life. Through prayer and meditation, I began to develop a relationship with a Higher Power of my own understanding. None of it happened overnight. It happened one day at a time. Service became a turning point for me. Making coffee, greeting at the door, and eventually volunteering beyond my home group helped shift my focus from myself to others. When I answer a phone call or welcome a newcomer, I remember the desperation I felt walking into my first meeting. Carrying the message keeps me sober. Today, my life is not perfect — but it is sober. I no longer wake up with dread about what I said or did the night before. I have relationships built on honesty instead of excuses. Most importantly, I have hope.

Alcoholics Anonymous gave me a simple program with a clear purpose: to stay sober and help other alcoholics achieve sobriety. For that, I am deeply grateful. If you’re new, or struggling, know this: you are not alone. Keep coming back. It works — if we work it