I took a small hiatus from meetings. Like three months. I’ve been back for a couple of months now, after an awakening of humble perceptions.
I had attended a meeting in which the chairperson informed us the meetings topic would be “Whatever you wanna talk about; how your day was, whatever!” I stayed for about 8 minutes until the ramblings of a sick drug addict consisted of her frustrations with her doctor not writing her a prescription she needed.
I made a very dramatic departure. My patience with these type of meetings and people was at its breaking point.
It turned into an ego-driven-soapbox-holier-than-thou resentment for roughly three months. I wouldn’t go to meetings. My argument to my sponsor being that meetings don’t treat alcoholism.Which is true, they don’t. I had lost sight of our primary purpose completely, blinded by my ego, self-righteousness and entitlement. All went well for a time, BUT I FAILED TO ENLARGE MY SPIRITUAL LIFE. I took this all for granted. I was rested assured that without meetings, I could do all of the other things which are required of me to achieve serenity, maintain spirituality as well as stave the mental obsession. All this would have been a perfect plan… had it not come from me. I was doing all the things I was supposed to be doing. And was pretty damned miserable.
I wasn’t doing my part. I had nothing to do with other alcoholics. I was not carrying any message except for I was going to be just fine doing things my way. One night after feeling particularly pouty and whiny, I, on a whim, decided to stop by our club for a late night meeting. One of my great heroes was there.
We chatted. Time ticked on. No one showed up for the meeting. I sat for an hour trying to convince this person that I had figured it out and meetings were overrated.
I left feeling ridiculous. Ashamed. Committed once again to fighting the good fight the best way I can. I was awakened by those around me who loved me enough to not be nice and reveal that I was messing up,
that I wasn’t doing the right thing, and that I could do better with a little tolerance.
My realization was this: if the meetings are so sick, so bad, so toxic that I cannot attend them without getting angry, there must be a change made.
There is a right way to do things. We whom have recovered have a duty to those who have not. It is my responsibility to show them how. I have a message to carry. If no one ever speaks the truth in a meeting again, I can.
I have the ability in a small way to make a difference. One person at a time. I can help when others can’t. It was shown to me that if I do NOT, then I will suffer greatly. For a long time. Until I take a drink.
Now I did not take a drink in this time, and it hadn’t crossed my mind once, but I was on my way. The mental obsession had a way in. And I know it would have shown up one day when I least expected it to.
And there I would have been done for. For me, it is a matter of balance. I can do many different things to the best of my ability, however, if I neglect other consequential principles, I fail and I die.
And I am humbled by that. Man it is easy to get off track and forget. But I do have a fail-proof method available to me all day every day. It is up to me to implement it. Today I can attend a meeting and pray for others, offer guidance, and speak the truth.
There are those who don’t like it, who aren’t living it, and think I’m ridiculous or obsessed or brainwashed. I just know what works for me. And I have a duty to share with you.
And the Red Sox are freaking pathetic. Deuces, Valentine.