New home group

I was in a meeting the other day, and some old guy was talking about how he'd been had the same meeting as his home group for the last twenty-something years.

I've had a number of home groups.  First was an Marijuana Smokers Anonymous meeting in Seattle, then an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting at the Seventh Day Adventist hospital when I was in Taipei.  Moving back, I re-affiliated myself with the same meeting. 

When I returned, MSA had already merged with Marijuana Anonymous from California, and was almost three years old (here in Seattle).  Most of the people there had got clean in MA; almost every body was new, or not far from it.  Not surprisingly, personality conflicts were commonplace.  Discounting the ones I was involved in, there were still plenty of growing pains in those early years.

I fell in with a workshop put on by an Alcoholics Anonymous group at the church where my MA meeting was held.  This was instrumental in my recovery; I got back into working the steps, which I'd really started doing overseas.

After a few years, it was getting difficult to park near that MA meeting, and some friends started a new one in a suburb north of town.  This was much more convenient for me, having moved out of the city.  Home group #3.

That meeting went well for some time, but then the membership dropped off.  About that time, I was beginning to re-think my involvement with MA.  Although pot was my drug of choice, I realized that I connect much better with people in AA.  Chemically, I'm a pothead; socially, I fit in with drunks.  And, looking back over my using history, that's always been the case.

So, I joined an AA meeting that met in the same room after the faltering MA meeting.  It seemed odd to have a home group in Alcoholics Anonymous when my main 'drug of choice' (actually, make that 'drug of no choice whatsoever', but I digress...) wasn't alcohol.  But, I was warmly accepted at that meeting, and became a home group member for some time.

While attending the AA meeting out north, I took a job where I spent my time working overnight shifts or traveling out of town.  So, my attendance became sporadic.    The people I had connected with at that meeting were all moving on to different meetings.  When I was able to start attending with any regularity again, the meeting was really no longer the same one I'd made my home group.

So, I changed my home group affiliation to a meeting closer to home.  It was a mens' meeting, with a very strong emphasis on both step work and fellowship.  One of the things which most attracted me to the meeting (apart from bowls of candy) was the fact that the meeting went until everybody who wished to speak had enjoyed a chance to do so.  The meeting has a cigarette break about forty-five minutes in, and then a short break at ninety minutes, where some people would leave.  Then, the third half began, which continued for another hour or more.

Recently, the meeting has changed.  The founder of the meeting moved across the country.  More and more people started leaving after the second half.  Then, the closing prayers were said after the second half, with an announcement that the meeting was still open if anyone wanted to speak.

Over the last couple years, I've been finding that the only meeting I speak at anymore is that mens' meeting, and that I generally wait for the third half.  Which nowadays usually has less than a half dozen guys out of the forty or fifty there for the first two halves.  I've been attending other meetings, but I've been just sitting alone in the back (where I won't be called on), and not talking to anybody before or after the meeting.

This is really unusual for me, because for the first twenty years or so, you almost couldn't shut me up at a meeting.  If I wasn't called on, I'd volunteer.  I'd hang out and talk to folks, whether I knew 'em or not.  But, somewhere along the line, that's changed.  I'm no longer comfortable with people knowing how much time I have.  I'm not comfortable with how my life is going, with my job, my car, or much of anything else anymore.  And, I'm certainly not interested in discussing it in a meeting.
 
Until I took the traveling job, I'd sponsored a bunch of guys.  Since then, I haven't been asked.  I've had a sponsor and worked the steps (albeit in a fitful 'start-and-stop' fashion) pretty steadily since after my first birthday.  But, I've been avoiding service positions, because my employment has been so shaky that I didn't want to commit to anything.  I haven't been going out to participate in panels at the treatment centers for the better part of a decade.  I haven't been sharing my experience in the program a whole lot for the last couple years.

They say that "you have to give it away to keep it"... and perhaps that's the whole problem.  Not that I haven't wanted to.  I've actually gone to meetings with the intention of talking, but my throat would just tighten up.  I meant to announce my birthday at a bunch of meetings last year, but I'd get nervous and choke, or someone else would talk over me, or I'd talk so softly that the chairperson wouldn't hear me.  I'm not sure if I announced it outside my home group.

So, the other night, I went to an offshoot of that AA meeting that put on the workshop I'd been involved in in the early 1990's.  I stuck around for the business meeting.  Made it my home group.  And was subsequently railroaded into a service position.  Which is actually a good thing.

Time to get back out in the mix.

-M

The Lone Ranger

One of my initial stumbling blocks was a deep-rooted reluctance to accept help - let alone ask for it.  Really, it's just the way I'm wired. 

I can't say that I've been completely relieved of this facet of my character, either.  I still avoid asking for assistance.  Even from my friends.  Even to this day.

Let me give an example from just a couple years ago.  I was putting another engine in my pickup truck.  Unfortunately, I had rolled the truck thirty feet down the driveway to the street.

This wasn't hard, since there was a definite downhill slope to the driveway.  But, going back uphill towards the garage was another story. 

For anyone who's never learned the trick to pushing a car up a grade, the easiest way to get it to move is to put your butt up against the back of the car, and walk backwards.  This uses the big quadricep muscles in the front of your thighs, gives your legs a lot of leverage, and doesn't put any strain on your back or upper body.

So, I walked around to the back of the old blue truck, put my tailbone up against the tailgate, and began to push.  And, the old girl inched up the driveway.

Now, as riveting as this all has been, there's a plot twist here.  You see, there was a crew of guys working on a phone line or something about a hundred feet away.  Seeing me pushing the truck, they stopped work to come help.  One of 'em said something like, "hey, we can give you a hand" as they approached.  Pretty nice of 'em.

Unfortunately, my mouth answered before it ran the words past my brain: "no thanks, I got it."  What the hell?  I didn't even think about it; I just shot out that answer.

The guys all looked at each other, shrugged, and went back to their work.  I kept pushing the old truck up the driveway.  Facing straight towards 'em, as I inched my way backwards up towards the garage.

Every so often, I'd chock the tire, and run up to the cab to adjust the position of the steering wheel.  Then, I'd return to the back, put my back against the truck, and try not to look in the direction of the workmen who'd tried to help me.

This probably only took me five minutes, but sometimes, five minutes can be a very long time.

Now, I've heard guys in meetings talk about how they'd had some kind of 'Lone Ranger Syndrome'.  Well, one day I realized, even the Lone Ranger had his faithful companion, Tonto.

On a number of occasions, it's been pointed out in meetings that the Twelve Steps reference us in the plural.  "We admitted..." "... restore us to sanity."  "...turn our will and our lives over..."  But, perhaps the best demonstration of this principle comes from my home group's former coffee maker.  I had the honor of getting to attend meetings with this guy for a couple years; had a lot of respect for him.

I may have missed this particular week; I was working 3rd shift for a while and didn't get there regularly.  I'll quote the way it was told to me:

The topic was '...A WE program'....
following several less succinct speakers S- spoke the following....
"WE, got me seven years.  Thank You."

As I read over that last sentence, his eloquence is clear.  But, let me tell you a little more about him.  Because, nobody who made his acquaintance would be likely to mistake him for a needy or dependent person.

Our coffee maker walked the better part of a mile down to the meeting every week for years.  On two artificial legs, without a cane.  And, he made the coffee with ten fingers that had been amputated at the second knuckle.  So, his fingers were stumps, only an inch or so long.  This man didn't ask for help, didn't ask for rides; he was a very self-sufficient individual.  However, when it came to sobriety, humility came first.  He stayed sober to the end of his days.

Rest in peace, my friend.

And, if accepting help is good enough for a guy this tough, it's good enough for me.

-M