It is the end of the week. All is quiet on the Western Front. The night time temps have dropped ever so slightly, enough that a second layer is comfortable, but not too warm. I broke out the fleece hoodie I love.
I had set my alarm clock when I went to bed last night, and woke up early, as usual. I never sleep up to the bell. I am usually 20 minutes early. When I got up I was a little foggy, I was getting ready to Get Ready to go and realized that I had two hours instead of one until my usual departure.
I downloaded a Brazilian Movie … “The Way He Looks.” Hoje EuQuero Vollar Sozinho.
It is in Portuguese and has no subtitles. UGH … There have been a bunch of Gif’s on Tumblr from the movie itself that I find romantic and cute. Today someone posted the title of the movie and I actually found it. Something to do later.
I left a few minutes late, and got all the way to my bus connection, there was about twenty people ahead of me in the line up and no bus. We waited. A bus pulled up and stopped short of the stop itself where you get on the bus. The driver got out … She got out of the bus, and walked towards the drop zone of that same bus/metro stop as it approaches the terminus at that station, she got on a second bus that eventually pulled up behind her bus, and both drivers took off for the kiosk to get munchies.
Transit workers, Police and Firefighters are in a battle with the city over their pensions, and trains buses, police cars and firetrucks are festooned with protest stickers. Some are covered all over the place. (I’m not sure how you get all that sticky-ness off of a vehicle or the trains and sorts.)
Transit workers come to work in street clothes, and they take their time when it comes to schedules, but they aren’t supposed to derail timetables and schedules. Both buses were loading passengers and I opted for the first bus at the stop. I got on the bus, ready to swipe my card …
And she smiled at me … It was just one of those moments.
I rode to my stop and arrived early as usual and we set up and chatted a bit. We sat a full house, but not enough for groups.
There are moments during our days, that time seems to stop. When our chair opened the meeting, we usually start with a moment of silence for the alcoholic who still suffers, but tonight she added that maybe we could take that moment and remember that darkest point when we took that last drink, and what it felt like, prior to the Serenity Prayer.
Take a moment … Think … Remember … Prayer …
And then it happened. I was sitting in a room full of my friends I truly care about, and we said the Serenity Prayer with those thoughts on our minds.
It was like music to God being sung…
I don’t know, it just hit me squarely. It was one of those moments, suspended between time and space.
So that was a thing …
The reading: “Renew your Effort.” from A.B.S.I. pg 68
Speaks to a slip, and the feelings of shame, guilt and regret.
Not everybody that comes in the door the first time, “get’s it” and remains sober. Many of us have a slip or two in our stories, some have more, but at the Friday meeting, our sober quotient is very high.
There is nothing more disconcerting than that look of “pity” from folks, when one comes in, off a slip, Or that one might look down upon, or shame another because of a slip. We work very hard on Friday’s to be as loving and welcoming to everyone, no matter where they came from on any given night.
And that approach has served us well, and carried our friends who have slipped into longer periods of sobriety this time around.
I never understood the feelings of someone who got stuck in the revolving door, until I got to that point in my own story. I learned what that felt like. Letting my friends down who cared about me. Letting down the meeting that supported me. Giving back that perfectly wrapped gift from God and said
“Nope, you can have it, I don’t want it any more…”
I got sober in the same city, where I had been sober before. The good thing was that I was on the beach, and the club room was in the city. City folks and beach folks usually do not mix, and that was the case for me, but word did travel, when I got back in, that I was sober again. And three weeks in, the second time around, I met all my friends at a midnight meeting, just before Christmas.
I was waiting for that Pity look. I am sure as shit, people were thinking it, because I was.
I got hugs and pats on the back, and a welcome. That is what I needed. Because I was assaulting myself with guilt, shame and remorse for weeks. It took me about two months to get over it soberly.
The reading says “… could I also suggest that you look at excessive guilt for what it is? Nothing but a sort of reverse pride. A decent regret for what has happened is fine. But guilt – No.”
A slip just doesn’t happen. There are usually extenuating circumstances that contribute to a slip. A situation or a problem. Self doubt, or self hatred. For myself, it was a hole in my chest that nobody else could see, but I knew was there, and I had to fill it. It was a cathartic need to fill it, and I went to every length to try and do that, To My Own Detriment.
Which probably contributed to the length of time it took me to reach my Second Last Drink.
We are all sober tonight. It was a beautiful night. People are coming and going. Some are moving away for school this term and tonight was their last night with us until the Fall Term ends in November, which is bittersweet. Friends are back from vacation. it was good to see and be seen.
All is well.
More to come, stay tuned …