By Anon.
How often I had heard the words: “I stopped going to meetings . . . “ woven somewhere within the fabric of an explanation for a “slip,” for a decision to have a drink after some period of sobriety. Whether one drink, many, or years that followed,the reality of which the observation bespoke did not seem to matter. Nor did the “time” the speaker possessed before succumbing to the urge, impulse, desire, fantasy, or just plain lie which preceded the drink, seem to matter. From those who uttered these words, I heard none remark of the wonderful time they had while “out.” To a person, when the time was described, invariably the description invoked regret, remorse, frustration, horrible loss and a progression of an illness that was relentless in its effort to devour and destroy its host. No wonder many believe the most important person in the room is the newcomer, both because they are escaping this horror while reminding all who pay attention to it, of how close it lingers to each recovering alcoholic.
During a meditation/discussion meeting I recently attended, the topic posed was one’s most favored, most memorable meeting. In my mind I immediately jumped of course to my local, 7:00 a.m. Log Cabin meeting, 7-days-a-week, 365-days-a-year, where I got sober as the clear choice. Upon the reflection promoted by the meditation aspect of the setting, I realized that while this was a “favored” meeting on so mainly levels, it was quickly challenged by the 7:00 a.m. at the Masonic Hall, the 7:00 a.m. at the Alano Club, the 7:00 a.m. in Fairfax and of course the 7:00 a.m. Urgent Care meeting. The obvious attraction had initially eluded me, the reflection allowed me to see – these were all 7:00 a.m.-ers.
I then recalled whenever I traveled, whether to New Jersey or Los Angeles, or anywhere in between, I always looked for a local meeting which started at or before 7:00 a.m. I seemed to have found over the years of practicing the principles of staying sober which my sponsor had drilled into me [Thank You Higher Power for putting this generous and loving soul into my life], that those folks at the 7:00 a.m. meetings, no matter the city in which they convened, had what I wanted in AA. That is not to say the same experience does not occur at other meetings, of course it does. It is to say I found I experienced a whole new attitude and outlook upon the day in front of me when I started it off with a meeting. It also was what my sponsor did, what his sponsor did, and it [by today’s count] worked for several decades for each of them so who was I to knock success where before had been only abject failure. So the amorphous “7:00 a.m. Meeting” had to be my favorite. However the meditation period had not yet ended, and this alcoholic “monkey mind” continued to spin despite my efforts to contain it. What was I missing?
“Favored or memorable” was the topic. I then recalled that beautiful Friday afternoon in June, high blue skies, contrasted slightly with white clouds, a perfect afternoon by which to start the weekend. Although my drinking caused quite a rift in the 14-year marriage, that was weeks ago and I was sober now for six weeks. I was sure this ‘marriage hiccup’ would be smoothed over any day now, the lawyers were working on it. I arrived home earlier than my previous normal, funny how not stopping on the way home for a quick drink [read four], started to get me home at a reasonable hour. My three children, none of them teenagers yet, were having a great time with the neighbor kids, all was well as I exited my car. The young man who spoke my name, inquiring as to my identity caught me off guard. Innocently, I uttered “Yes that’s me” without thought. The kick-out order and subpoena he then handed me did not foretell I would never spend another night in the house I loved, with a family I adored. In the span of 60 seconds I literally discovered I had nowhere to go!
Sober for only 6 weeks, still my sponsor had done good work. My first thought was not to which bar I could head, but to what meeting I could go.. The 6:00 p.m. at The Loft was only minutes away and had just started when I arrived. Shortly before it ended, I shared my experience. Too numb still to think, I received in return the experience of several who had been through what I was just starting. They added their hope for me that I too could survive as they had. They shared their strength with me, when I had lost all of mine. I did not drink that night, nor have I had a drink since. But I know most certainly it was because of that meeting and the fellowship in it which was so freely given to me, those circumstances did not take me out that night. Wearing the same wrinkled suit and tie from the day before, I was at my Cabin at 7:00 a.m. the next day. Neither bright eyed nor bushy tailed, but sober and not hungover. This prescription I have found stood me well when I needed it the most. I have since heard going to meetings described as “The Easier, Softer Way.” I think I know from whence comes that saying – been there, doing that, one day at a time.
