I love the diversity of our Fellowship. I got sober in a small town blessed with three meetings a day, and I have come to appreciate that there are many kinds of meetings–the rough-and-rugged newcomer meetings, the philosophical middle-sobriety ones, and the living-in-the-solution old-timer meetings. I can usually inventory my feelings and needs, then choose the meeting that’s right for me. What sometimes happens, however, is that I can selfishly forget which meeting is the right one for service.
I have three sober years now and during the past summer, life was a breeze. When life is easy, I usually assume it’s God’s way and I’m quite spiritual. But when I’m in emotional trouble, I assume life’s a drag and that God’s gone fishing. What I’ve had to figure out is that I can’t figure anything out–that when life’s a drag, it usually means I’m not living in accordance with the truth that life has its ups and downs. The most difficult part of this phase of my development seems to be my lack of compassion for my own physical and emotional hardships. I kick myself most when I’m down.
Last summer, everything was a snap. I had a terrific job, I was working through close friendships with people in the program, and I was staying in sound physical shape. Then this winter I injured my back, I lost my job, and I’ve been having a hard time connecting with people. I’ve been turning my woes over to God on a daily basis; I’ve been working the Steps; I’ve been attending lots of meetings; I’ve been working with my sponsor and sponsoring two great fellows–and yet I’m still living in fear and having physical, spiritual, and emotional blues. The idea comes easily to me that I’m not good enough or that I’m not lovable or that I deserve misery.
My life is so uncomfortable now, and there seems no sign of change, and yet I know from those around me that time takes time. My growth has always been slow and painful. I sometimes have to laugh when that phrase from the Promises is read: “sometimes quickly.” But it helps me to remember that the phrase that follows is, “they will always materialize if we work for them.” What I notice most is that I am not drinking–a miracle when I consider that people have gone out under similar circumstances–and that I am talking about my feelings. And I am well aware that alone I cannot solve my problems, but that with God and the Fellowship, I can keep growing and living.
So these days, I go to all the meetings. I work with newcomers at the rough-and-tumble meetings to remember what it was like when I got here; I go to the philosophical meetings because I need to hear how people are staying sober; and I go to the stay-in-the-solution meetings because I need to celebrate my sobriety and give myself a break. There are winners and whiners, and sometimes I seem to embody both. I am, as my friends remind me, a human being.
After three years, I’m finally arriving at the second half of the First Step: my life is unmanageable. (They say that if drinking won’t bring you to your knees, sobriety will.) But I want to avow that through it all–and I’m always reminded that it hasn’t been that long, it just seems long–the Fellowship of Alcoholics Anonymous has never failed me.