My name is Jack, I’m an alcoholic
In 1976, a handsome young physician in his early thirties stood up in a crowded room and said, “hello, my name is Jack, and I’m an alcoholic.” From the group a chorus was heard, “Welcome Jack.”
What proceeded from there was his revealing yet familiar story of humility, gratitude, tolerance and forgiveness. With a voice both humble and strong, and a moistened glint of optimism in his sky blue eyes, he shared his experience, his fall from grace, his renewed strength and his lessons of hope. His story reminded all of the importance of sobriety, staying away from one drink, one day at time.
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Jack was my hero. When I grew up, he was more than a generation ahead, tens years my senior and my second oldest brother. He was a god by every measure. He did everything right, had more talents than anyone I knew combined, was smart as they get, looked like Dr. Kildare, and could leap tall buildings in a single bound. Talk about a tough act to follow! It was over before I even started. But damn, did he inspire me! He graduated from medical school and ended up on Mt. Olympus somewhere.
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Jack taught me the power of story. You see, it was the power of story that moved him and kept him on the road to recovery. Stories are what reminded him that he wasn’t alone, that he couldn’t do it alone and that staying connected was strength. It was his story that taught me it was okay to be imperfect, and that the freedom to fail was an essential part of life. And above all, his story taught me the meaning of resilience.
Full article at Emotive Storytelling™: http://emotivestorytelling.com/jack-im-alcoholic/
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