Dig Deep in One Place: A Couple's Journey to a Spiritual Life explains the actual recipe that the Twelve Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous are and how they can assist anyone in the transformation of their lives. The title of our book explains how we have lived our lives together moving through our relationship, marriage, codependency, addiction, and health issues to happy, joyous freedom. The Steps are way to rise above fear and live a happy and peaceful life. We have no desire to tell anyone how to do the Twelve Steps but to begin to scrape away the mystery surrounding them using our own practical experience to show how unbelievably simple it is to change from negativity to freedom. "Dig Deep" tells the simultaneous stories of this couple's pilgrimage using two views of the same events. The book tells of the depths of depression, addiction, codependency, fear and the miracle of recovery. It is filled with tears and laughter. The truth is The Twelve steps are not self-help--but helpfulness to others. The mere reading of this book will fill everyone with hope! Hope is not the promise of a good outcome; it is the realization that somebody truly understands and there is a way out of any difficulty you may have. Doing the Twelve Steps will stop you from forging the chains that bind you. Free at last!

DIG DEEP IN ONE PLACE

A Couple's Journey to a Spiritual LifeBy BILL FIFIELD SANDY FIFIELD

Balboa Press

Copyright © 2011 Bill and Sandy Fifield
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4525-3885-3

Contents

ILLUSTRATIONS by Bill Fifield................................................................xiForeword.....................................................................................xiiiPreface......................................................................................xvIntroduction.................................................................................xviiPART ONE WHAT IT WAS LIKE...................................................................1Chapter One Point of No Return..............................................................3Chapter Two Childhood Memories—Bill...................................................13Chapter Three Air Force Brat—Sandy....................................................21Chapter Four Our Life Together..............................................................29PART TWO WHAT HAPPENED......................................................................41Chapter Five Arrival at the Temple, Bill—July 28, 1992, 6:05 p.m......................43Chapter Six Resistance—Sandy..........................................................51Chapter Seven Let's Start Digging, Bill—Steps 1-6.....................................61Chapter Eight Discovery of Denial, Sandy—Steps 1-6....................................69Chapter Nine What Can I Bring?, Bill—Steps 7-12.......................................83Chapter Ten Faith is Action, Sandy—Steps 7-12.........................................93PART THREE WHAT IT'S LIKE NOW...............................................................105Chapter Eleven Let's Dig Deeper—The Twelve Traditions.................................107Chapter Twelve Twelve Concepts of World Service.............................................119Chapter Thirteen Love, Light, and Joy—Recovery and Art................................131Chapter Fourteen Passing it On—The Circle of Recovery.................................143Afterword....................................................................................159Gratitude....................................................................................161Resources....................................................................................163Author Bio...................................................................................167

Chapter One

Point of No Return

"More is not enough." —Bill

July 28, 1992

Bill weighed 285 pounds when we dropped him off at Harmony Foundation treatment center. He was bright red and sweating like a butcher. His kidneys were shutting down, and his liver was protruding out his side. His blood pressure set a world record, and even with no signs of intoxication, he blew a .045, drunk by anyone's standard.

So how did it ever come to this? Going back in time to Christmas 1991, we can trace the final steps to this inevitable conclusion. We were not invited to the traditional Christmas get-together with Sandy's family; instead we were invited to dinner with Sandy's mother and stepfather—just the four of us in a public place, a nice restaurant. We were baffled, but we went anyway; we wanted and needed the gifts that would be given. We brought presents too. In our complete delusion and denial, we had decided to give portraits of ourselves to our friends and family. Although we couldn't see the truth at the time, this portrait was terrifying. Bill had gained weight despite, or maybe because of, the blood pressure meds he was on. He looked like he might just burst if pricked with a pin. Sandy looked baffled and scared. Neither of us had light in our eyes, but we thought we looked great! We made every effort to appear and act normal, and managed to escape the scene with the gifts and without having offended anyone too badly, but even we were starting to sense that there was something very wrong.

After Bill's birthday on January 11, the "holidays" were officially over, and we could get back to normal. Well, our normal anyway. We continued to try to prove that all was okay in our house. In February, we bought a 1985, new to us, Subaru wagon. As we drove to Denver in Bill's old International Scout to pick it up, it got later and later, and soon it was completely dark. Sandy drove the new Subaru, and Bill was to follow in the Scout. What a terrifying drive for both of us. We had both been drinking all day. Bill's night vision was nonexistent as he stared out into a wall of headlights that stretched across the windshield. Sandy couldn't find the lights, heater, defroster, or windshield wipers in the new car in the dark. It was dangerous for us and all those around us. Still, we were okay! Everything was fine! We had just bought a new car.

Early in April 1992, an old friend from Minnesota called Sandy's mother to say, "Bill has been calling me during his blackouts. Something has to be done about his drinking, or he will kill himself or someone else very soon." This friend had been sober for five years. During a conversation to plan a family wedding that was taking place in Telluride, Colorado, in late June, Sandy's mother confronted her with this information, asking, "What is really going on with Bill and you? Is everything okay in your house? Can we trust him to behave at the wedding festivities? Do we need to stage an intervention?" Sandy broke down and told the truth. She said, "Yes, we need to have an intervention, but not until after the wedding." Now there were two events being planned for that summer—one just as much a beginning as the other, as it turned out.

Now, how did Sandy behave with this secret information? She had to withdraw from attempt to control battle with Bill that she had been engaging in prior to this decision. That behavior included constantly asking, "Have you been drinking? How much?" She had to control her own drinking, lest she tell the secret about the intervention to take place three weeks after the wedding (July 28). She still drank with Bill, but he was vaguely aware that something had changed. He would look at her and inquire, "What's going on?" It was extremely difficult for Sandy to keep the secret. There was still the wish that it really wouldn't be necessary to have an intervention, that everything would somehow magically get better on its own. Sandy continued to plan for both events.

We decided a camping trip to the Utah desert would be fun before the wedding. We would make it a full week of celebration, including the wedding. As it turned out, it was our last hurrah with drugs and alcohol.

The first full day started with drinks all around as we packed the Subaru in the rain. That summer, we needed to go to the desert to have any summer at all. We argued and drank all the way to Grand Junction, Colorado. We arrived drunk, tired, and hungry, found a motel, and ventured out for some food. The first restaurant was so busy that, after an hour and more drinks, it became obvious that our food order had been lost, so we left. After threatening an employee at the next restaurant, we decided to return to the motel to eat some of our camping food and drink the rest of the vodka and rum we had brought. We finally passed out after an emotional and hurtful argument. In the morning, filled with fresh resolve to have...