In ninety eighty-six, I started an ACOA meeting (Adult Children of Alcoholics). No one came for four weeks.
Once established, the group grew to forty dev**ed members. The coffee I made in an urn was no longer wasted. Then AA members came one day to shame us, mocking our process of getting free of our alcoholic parents, them, and all that serious harm. The group had grown to the point, through working the Steps, of looking to build a bridge. They left in a huff.
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