“I’m not going to lie…”

The homeless-old man ask me if I could spare some change.
“I’m not going to lie, I’m going to buy a beer with it,” he said proudly.
In a way, I respected that, and in a way, I was jealous. Drinking first thing in the morning use to be a trait of mine.
I pulled out my “year chip” and handed it to him.
“What’s this?” he asked.
I’ve been sober for over a year after 23 years of using and drinking.
“Well Ive been drinking for over forty years, and Im pretty good at it,” he said.
There was a time when I wasn’t trying to hear it. My higher power himself could of stood right in front of me and explained that I was an addict and how to get help and I would have not listened.
I came in from the chaos, when I was finally tired, miserable and hopeless. It took me twenty-three years to get there. Not everyone has to get to that point, but I did.
He gave me my chip back and I handed him two bucks. This was my first attempt to try to help someone outside my recovery program.

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