Unfortunately, I did well in school by putting forth minimum effort. When I reached Calculus 5 as a senior in college, minimum work didn’t cut it. I think I failed every test and quiz in that class. All I remember of that class was being drunk. Toward the end of the semester my professor asked me if I was SUPPOSED to graduate the following month. I said yes, and she gave me a D—I didn’t earn that D.
It’s unfortunate that I didn’t learn the benefits of hard work and the ramifications of minimum work. I carried that lack of work ethic with me until I got sober at 42. I tried to do the minimum to get sober, too: just go to meetings, buy the literature but don’t read it, get a sponsor but don’t call her, etc. I had an excuse for everything, and I kept drinking.
I had a chasm of despair that needed to be filled. I reached an all-time bottom in my life that required me to make a decision: do EVERYTHING that is suggested to remain sober or keep killing myself slowly. The simple act of asking for help was the beginning of a new life for me, one that I am deserving of happiness. The more work I put in, the more complete, serene, and joyful I feel. I like hard work—go figure.
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