I'm grateful for the old timer who showed us his first ever newcomer chip with a taped quarter on the back because it was encouraged to always have money on hand for a call instead of act on a desire to pick up. I'm grateful for anniversary meetings where I get to hear a range of interesting recovery stories. I'm grateful for vegan nuggets and frozen Indian meals. I'm grateful for discovering a new podcast that's keeping me entertained during my runs. I'm grateful for alternative running routes I've been taking to mix up my routine a little. I'm grateful to hear others speak about learning how to accept and love oneself. I'm grateful to see fellows who've been away for a while come back to meetings. I'm grateful to just listen when someone is asking for only that and not rely on my go-to fix-it instincts.
I went to a meeting this past Monday that I enjoy attending because it has a solid, diverse set of sober regulars. This past one was both wonderfully joyous and deeply heart-wrenching. The lead, who recently celebrated her 1-year anniversary, spoke about her experience, strength, and hope in a helpful, light-hearted way. It was a story focused mainly on recovery, which I always appreciate, especially from someone who found her way to AA later in life. It was a good reminder that it's never too late to show up for ourselves.
When the room opened up for shares, a fellow started things off by talking about his long-term client whose wife decided to end her life over the weekend during a drunken blitz. A few shares later another person brought up an ex-neighbor who had been gradually withering away from drinking for over a decade and died a few days ago in her ex-husband's arms weighing just 80lbs. The final share of the evening was from a newbie whose ex-fiancé, still in the throes of addiction, was now intubated in the hospital and he felt guilt over not helping her more when she had called earlier in the day threatening to take her life.
After the meeting I felt kind of a whiplash from the wide array of shares. It was some deeply real, deeply traumatizing stuff. Later that night while walking my dog in the park and looking out at the mountains, I began to feel tremendous relief and gratitude. Everyone had been so vulnerable about where they are in life and how they are constructively dealing. It's amazing us alcoholics have regular access to a space where we can authentically express ourselves without judgement and lean on the community for comfort. Most people in the real world don't have such an outlet. Before AA I relied on "normie" friends or family for help, but they didn't know what to do, especially given the chaotic way I used them. I firmly believe that while we get essential recovery in the Steps, we find invaluable relief in meetings through human connection.
Another thought that crossed my mind during my evening walk was just how much can happen in a week. People like me outside these rooms are dying, either quickly or slowly, but somehow I've managed to stay in my AA seat. Of course there is no guarantee that I'll stay in it the next day. I may feel secure, positive, and happy today, but who knows what tomorrow will bring. The AA concepts I've managed to interpret in a way that makes sense for my sobriety right now will inevitably change. I don't know if it that change will be enough to keep me away from a drink down the road. I believe it will, but I'm no oracle.
Of course future-tripping isn't me staying on a sober path. The Program I currently practice reorients my thinking when I get too negative or too fearful or too whatever else. I have these actions I take, I have these acronyms I recite, I have certain people I talk to who remind me how to implement AA's principles in all my affairs to ensure I maintain balance when the world is constantly shifting around me. I count my blessings, the myriad of gifts I've been given to live a serene life, and use that energy to carry me into the next 24 hours.
I am a miracle today because I didn't drink. I actually truly believe that now in a way I didn't before. I used to feel that phrasing is too grandiose, it's too schmaltzy for my cynical tastes. But the fact that I didn't die multiple times over during the height of my alcoholism is indeed miraculous. A lot can change from now till Monday when I (plan to) attend that meeting again. For the moment though I feel insanely lucky and beyond grateful to be alive and alcohol-free.