In the writings of my first blog I worked through the persistent question of why I stayed in a marriage with alcoholism. When my wife died that decision was sealed, and it was good.

Now people I know outside of Al-Anon can't understand why I am still a member of the group since I no longer live with alcoholism. It doesn't make sense to them that I still attend so many meetings and always look forward to my next one.

In the newcomer's welcome in our program there is a line that reads something like this: "you may feel you are here for the alcoholic. Actually you are here because of the alcoholic - you are here for yourself." The point is that I have a disease that, if untreated, will cause insanity, and even death. My disease didn't end with my qualifier's death.

I call my disease "Al-Anon's Disease." I got it by loving an alcoholic. It took years for my disease to get its grip and do its damage. Left untreated it would sadly progress toward my demise. Without a program, family, and Higher Power to give me regular inoculations I would loose my serenity and fall apart. My very life is at stake.

Some, even in my program, have suggested that I am continuing to go to meetings so I can somehow give back some of what I have received. For me this simply just isn't the case. I go to meetings for me; so I can heal. I go to get, not to give.

I share, take service commitments, set up chairs, unlock the door, greet newcomers, and lead meetings to get, not to give. Sometimes I am asked to speak in a speaker's meeting or on a panel in a recovery house as part of my 12 step program. I do this when I can because I have found great healing properties in telling about my journey, as sad as it has been.

Among my disease's symptoms are chronic loneliness and isolation. The disease of alcoholism renders those affected by it less and less capable of sustaining any kind of an intimate relationship. When the alcoholic makes an attempt to reach out it often fails when the bottle sits between them and their partner. When the Alanon reaches out, anger and resentment ride with the action to communicate anything but love.

Over time a thing called isolation interferes with even shallow passing friendships we might otherwise have, and we begin to face the world on our own. The damned disease will separate you from the herd, run you until you're tired, and then finish you off with loneliness. That is, if you let it.

The best medicine for these symptoms is a healthy dose of unconditional love. But the Alanon cannot get this antidote from the alcoholic. And outside of a good program we can't get it from ourselves. What's worse, we quit allowing our Higher Power to love is a long time ago. Then we find in the Alanon room the ingredient we need to stay alive: unconditional love.

That's why I stay. I need honest love. I need to be with people who laugh with me and hurt with me without judgment. I need people I can say anything to who won't turn away. I need the quiet hugs that recharge my battery. And I need to sense a direct, close, and real connection with my Higher Power. These things keep my Al-Anon's Disease at bay. These things let me hold hands with real serenity.

I am a grateful lifetime member of Al-Anon.