Daily Gratitude List--Extended Version

5.24.22

I’m grateful for the chance to reflect. I’m grateful to be reminded just how precious a commodity sobriety is. I’m grateful for new chapters. I’m grateful to know that the answers will show up when I need them. I’m grateful for understanding why the work is so important. I’m grateful to be sober today.

The plan today was to launch a new feature as part of the Daily Gratitude List on Tuesdays. I was going to call it “Things I Heard at AA Meetings.” I’ve got some good nuggets to share, but I think that’s going to wait until next week because there was something else I wanted to write about today.

Last week, one of my sponsees celebrated a year of sobriety. We went to an AA meeting and then a group of us had dinner in honor of that remarkable achievement: One year of continuous sobriety. Last night I saw him in Washington Square Park. He hadn’t shaved for a while and he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Last week, less than a week ago, we celebrated a year of sobriety and talked about how many people he was helping, how many people he could help. This morning, he’s a person who needs help. This morning he’s the person we should think about during that moment of silence for the sick and suffering still out there.

How does this happen? In retrospect, there were warning signs and changes, a little like watching a thunderstorm roll in; subtle changes in the air and the color of the sky and then so quickly, darkness and thunder. We spoke very briefly on the phone yesterday but it was long enough to know how far away he already was. But literally, how do you go from celebrating a year of sobriety to shirtless on a park bench in Washington Square in three or four days?

I’ve asked people on the podcast what is the hardest lesson they’ve learned in sobriety. Today, I’m thinking it’s this: No matter how much we love someone, no matter how much we invest in them, no matter how much we want it for them, it has to take root deep inside them and it has to flourish there on its own. There is no other way and the part that makes this so sad and so hard is that it doesn’t always happen. That’s very hard to accept. AA is built upon the principle of attraction rather than promotion for a very good reason: It only works when people want it, not when they are told they have to do it.

How does this happen? It’s impossible to explain such a rapid and total descent; another of the unfathomable aspects of this disease. But it happens over and over and we’ve all seen it too many times. I think this happens because there is still too much internal conflict; too much confusion, too much will and too much anger. I think this happens because drinking and using still seem like rational answers. I think this happens because we don’t really love ourselves enough. That’s why the hardest lesson of sobriety is that other people’s love isn’t enough to keep us sober; that my love isn’t enough to keep someone else sober.

I’m not sure why I went to Washington Square last night. When I left for the subway I knew I was going to see him, maybe a touch of father’s intuition, but I had no clue of what would happen after that. Sure enough, I spotted him with a group of other people on some benches in the western edge of the Square. I watched him for a little bit to make sure, I couldn’t really believe it was him. But there was no mistake, it was him hanging out the with the other addicts in the corner of the park. I moved away to call a friend and ask for advice, “I spotted him, now what?” When I walked back he was gone.

I’ll probably take another trip to Washington Square today. I don’t really have anything in mind to say to him; I’m pretty sure I don’t know the words that can magically reel him or anyone else back in. I hope that maybe if he sees me, he’ll remember the path is still there, that no one stopped caring for him, that there are lots of outstretched hands. Maybe if he sees me, he’ll remember the life he was leading just last week, full of promise and excitement. Maybe if he sees me, he’ll want to take the first steps back. I hope he sees me.

Thanks for Letting Me Share