Fellowship

After a rather busy Monday the last thing I wanted to do was sit in a crowded, hot room with flies buzzing over my head and the stench of old coffee for an hour. I would have much rather headed home and flipped open my laptop, racking up a few more hours of overtime. Begrudgingly I went inside, not with an overwhelming sense of apprehension; I was simply more inclined be somewhere more productive. This evening I attended my first AA meeting in over 5 years. I was not dreading it because of the message itself they advocate. For some people the teachings are the difference in life or death, sobriety and active addiction and I appreciate that. However, I felt annoyed at the powers that be which have mandated my attendance for the next 18 months. I readily admit it does not hurt to attend; it just seems that people should go that want to be there. If one is only taking up a seat to fulfill a court requirement, does that not take away from those who sincerely find their support with attending? What I experienced was a very diverse group of individuals from all walks of life. Retirees, twenty-something’s, pregnant women, bikers, single parents, healthy and sick, of all races, ages, religions and sexual orientations. It was quite a lot to take in, but in a reassuring way. Some were in attendance as a regular part of maintaining sobriety, others steadfastly holding on to denial. Some were there, such as yours truly, to placate the state. Still others, who appear well on their way to addiction; yet seeking a means of resistance. I did not participate today. There was no speaking up, introducing myself and saying to the room that I am an alcoholic. I was raised with a philosophy that God gave us one mouth and two ears for a reason; to listen more and speak less. I did not feel like I was better or less than any one of the participants in the room, felt like I was one of them, even if as a silent partner. Here are two tales I found touching. A middle aged guy named Ross told a story about his children. When they were young the parental relationship was estranged due to his drinking. Struggling to remain in their lives, he would attend their T-ball games with his cooler of Budlight. One day he heard one of the teammates ask his son who he was. His son answered “that’s just Ross.” He was crushed. It was that moment he had the realization of just how far the consequences of his alcoholism had reached. He vowed to find sobriety. After a few relapses he now has 29 months sober. He said, although it was challenging, hearing his son refer to him as Dad again makes every day worth the fight. Another gentleman, who goes by the name of Bo, speaks of his encounter with irony. Bo was a heavy drinker for over 40 years. Due to his depressive alcoholic state, he felt worthless and had no desire to live, attempting suicide three times. He has now found sobriety only to be diagnosed with a life threatening heart condition. Next week he will undergo a quadruple heart bypass. His cardiologist tells him his life will never be the same; in fact, there are severe complications that may arise. Bo finds himself oddly at peace with this prognosis. He feels that if “the big guy upstairs” calls him home, he will go as a sober man who has made amends with his family, his friends, and his God. Hearing these stories shared with such raw emotion and honesty put me in quite a reflective mood. No longer will I dread these meetings, I will look forward to them. There is something very humbling about fellowship with individuals who are so sincere and dedicated to sobriety.