About.com Health's Disease and Condition content is reviewed by Steven Gans, MD

At first, in the summer of 1998, it was not easy for me to stay sober, just not drinking and going to meetings. But at least I wasn't drinking, and was put into a place of fellowship where I could hear the message, but only if and it was conveyed. And thank God it finally was.

The welcomed and wonderful band-aids of a Twelve Step Fellowship with which I had covered my wounds were beginning to reach their full saturation point. The spiritual bleeding continued.

I Felt Fantasic

It was five days short of my second anniversary on a curiously warm night, and a drink was the furthest thing from my mind. I was driving home from my office and I was feeling rather at ease.

It had been a productive evening. Our production (sales) was excellent, I had hired some new very promising people, and I was in a fantastic frame of mind. I had just gotten off the phone with my sponsor, and we had shared some great recovery talk. Suddenly it occurred to me that on such a great day, "it is a damned shame that I cannot drink anymore."

It would have been the ideal time to unwind -- kick back, and REALLY enjoy my good fortune, my imminent sober anniversary and my apparent serenity.

No Memory of What Happened Next

Two days later I awoke in a motel room, five minutes from my office. I was in bed, naked, sweating and shivering cold, and coming off a blackout. I had relapsed. I have no memory of what happened to me from the time the insanity of the first drink entered my thoughts, to the time I came to.

I drove home. The pain in my soul was so extreme; I felt that death was the only possible way out. The sickness in my own soul had hit my absolute threshold. I knew it was not possible for me to take even one iota more. I had a shotgun in the house. I thought that if I put the barrel in my mouth and pull the trigger with my toes, I would be relieved.

A Jumping-Off Place

But I knew the shells were old and with a shotgun in my crotch - if it misfired -- it could be very painful and unfortunate if I lived. I wanted less pain - not more, yet death was the only way.

I did not know it, but THIS was a jumping-off place where I had never been before - the one I had heard of before from others.

I headed for the basement to bring the gun back upstairs to bed. On the way, I stopped. I stood on the balcony outside of the bedroom and looked down at my son's room, where he lay asleep. "What about him?" I thought. "What of him growing up without a daddy like you did?"

A Cry for Help

Then I thought of my wife behind me, lying in bed. What horror would she experience to hear the explosion and watch as my head splattered across the ceiling; possibly with bits of my splattered brains dripping down on the bed next to her; my headless body lying beside her? Was this what she bargained for when she married me?

Had she any idea?

I turned around and headed back to my bed, and put my head face down into the pillow and I prayed to God. A cry that came from deep down from my solar plexus - my "soul" if you will.

A Cool, Sweet Breeze

I asked of God not to live; neither did I ask to die. I made no promises in exchange for anything. I just abandoned all hope for myself of doing anything and asked, prayed - no, BEGGED that anything He wanted would be. I must now either die or live, whichever was His choice, because only one or the other was possible in that moment. All I knew was the way I now am, could not possibly continue.

At this same moment, when death seemed so appealing, I had what would be termed as a spiritual experience.

With it came a sudden, breeze of cool, sweet smelling air through the room. The sheer draperies that lined the glass door leading out into the outside deck rolled and fluttered and I heard the voice of God. He said that He loved me and would help if I would have Him, that there was a better way to Him. It was a path paved by those who came before. It would lead me back to Him. I could see this with a vision and clarity that I still have today.

Confused, But Grateful

I got up to close the windows and door but was astounded to find that they were already shut tight and not even the hint of a draft was leaking into the room. The breeze had not emanated from outside. Confused but still grateful, I thanked God, and I cried for my past arrogance - returned to my bed and fell off to sleep.

The next morning, after sleeping only a few hours, I awoke feeling well rested. An old-timer came into my life a few days later. He offered and I accepted his help in guiding me through and practicing the program of recovery using the directions outlined by the first one hundred alcoholics who authored the Big Book, Alcoholics Anonymous.

Immediate Results

I began to see the results immediately and 44 days later, I was a free man. I began to seek out fellow alcoholics in AA who also followed or sought the same path.

Today I try to stay in contact with folks all around the world who follow this path - and why I endeavor to engage in any activity I can which might help others; including writing this account for About.com. Thanks for the opportunity to share my experience.