~Learn everything you can, anytime you can, from anyone you can - there will always come a time when you will be grateful you did~ Sarah Caldwell
**Names have been changed**
I woke up Thanksgiving morning in my new home and I felt well rested after having not slept the night before. Of all the people, I dreamed overnight about hanging out with Michael Jackson. Maybe because the only addicts I "knew" were celebrities. I'm glad that I never had paparazzi documenting the last 17 years of my life while I abused drugs and alcohol. I can't imagine having photos or videos of me passed out on the street, making out with guys, slurring my speech or some other idiotic things. To have that plastered all over the media, would've been a nightmare and that stuff seems to follow those people the rest of their lives even when they get clean. One of the hardest questions to answer while in treatment was "who am I?" I wasn't allowed to say roles such as analyst, daughter, sister, friend, etc. After only 2 weeks of sobriety, I was still pulling off all the masks, disguises and costumes, but I knew for sure that my true self was not the person I was while addicted.
We had to wake up at 7 a.m. each morning and I'm not a morning person. I got dressed and one of the girls made breakfast since Chef Lacey had the day off for the holiday. There was a coffee maker with Folgers 1/2 Caff available, but even with half the caffeine, we were only allowed to make coffee until 1:00 in the afternoon. The sugar was locked up; only to be used for special occasions such as making the apple and pumpkin pies for our Thanksgiving meal. My sweets loving tastebuds had coffee for the first time with just Half and Half and it was a sour experience
After breakfast, we all hopped in the old green van and headed to the church hosting their annual Gratitude Meeting on Thanksgiving for Alcoholics Anonymous. I researched AA a bit on the internet just prior to entering treatment. I read how it's acceptable for people to show up and not speak, so that's exactly what I planned to do. I would just sit there quietly and invisibly while listening to all the sob stories told by Mr and Ms Anonymous. The last thing I wanted to do was participate. They can't expect me to do that at my first meeting. I felt anxious that I couldn't take Xanax anymore to numb my nerves because I would've definitely taken a few prior to this meeting. I wondered what these creatures looked like that didn't drink. Before meeting the girls at the house, I had only met a couple non-drinkers outside my family in my lifetime. Who were these other weirdos?
We walked into church and were the first ones there in a large meeting room with chairs sitting in a big circle. I grabbed some coffee and was very grateful that they had sweetener. I found myself beginning to appreciate the little things. I sat down next to Liz and we waited patiently for some cute boys to walk in. No longer would beer goggles impair us from judging hotness. As I sipped my coffee, I looked around at the people. They were just normal looking people that I passed by every day at the store, work, mall or on the street. They surprisingly weren't aliens. "There's a boy," Liz said. "Is he older than 80?" I asked. There were plenty of cotton tops in the room. I looked over at the boy and he was cute, but not really my type. Whatever my type is now that I'm sober.
There were about 50 of us gathered in the room and then the first person started telling their story. "Hi, I'm Jon and I'm an alcoholic." "Hi, Jon," we replied. Prior to this meeting, I've only encountered this scene in the movies and I always thought it was the corniest thing to say your name and your problem and then have everyone in unison say hi back. It seemed kind of cultish, but it became less corny as the meeting went on. I just treated it as a simple greeting between that person and myself. I don't know why, but I thought these meetings would be dull with people crying and feeling sorry for themselves. However, I was pleasantly surprised that almost everyone had a great sense of humor and laughed. Some of these people were super funny, almost all were great storytellers and why not? These were the same people that I loved talking to and laughed with at the bar or at a party. The only difference now is that we just can't drink anymore for our health. Why would our funniness disappear along with our drinking?
Some of the stories were very heartwarming and inspiring and some people brought their family or friends for support. I never thought I was a crier, but then the tears started flowing and would only intermittently stop. Almost all of us had one thing in common. We used to be walking dead people. We all wanted to die and waited impatiently for our time to come. Uh, oh! I noticed that everyone was speaking and no one was passing their turn. Wasn't anyone else a first timer? Grrr! My heart started pounding harder and my palms started getting sweaty. Some people said they were alcoholics and then added that they were also addicts. Was I supposed to admit both now? Geez! Finally, it was my turn.
"Hi," I was so anxious that I accidentally started talking before Liz was done and we both started chuckling. I started over. "Hi, I'm Cindy and I'm an alcoholic and addict. I'm grateful to be at my first meeting. It's been a long journey and even though, y'all are making me cry, I'm thankful to feel again. I spent years trying to numb myself. I'm grateful to be 10 days sober and to be at the treatment program that I entered yesterday, so Happy Thanksgiving." With that, I passed to the next non-alien.
**Names have been changed**
I woke up Thanksgiving morning in my new home and I felt well rested after having not slept the night before. Of all the people, I dreamed overnight about hanging out with Michael Jackson. Maybe because the only addicts I "knew" were celebrities. I'm glad that I never had paparazzi documenting the last 17 years of my life while I abused drugs and alcohol. I can't imagine having photos or videos of me passed out on the street, making out with guys, slurring my speech or some other idiotic things. To have that plastered all over the media, would've been a nightmare and that stuff seems to follow those people the rest of their lives even when they get clean. One of the hardest questions to answer while in treatment was "who am I?" I wasn't allowed to say roles such as analyst, daughter, sister, friend, etc. After only 2 weeks of sobriety, I was still pulling off all the masks, disguises and costumes, but I knew for sure that my true self was not the person I was while addicted.
We had to wake up at 7 a.m. each morning and I'm not a morning person. I got dressed and one of the girls made breakfast since Chef Lacey had the day off for the holiday. There was a coffee maker with Folgers 1/2 Caff available, but even with half the caffeine, we were only allowed to make coffee until 1:00 in the afternoon. The sugar was locked up; only to be used for special occasions such as making the apple and pumpkin pies for our Thanksgiving meal. My sweets loving tastebuds had coffee for the first time with just Half and Half and it was a sour experience
After breakfast, we all hopped in the old green van and headed to the church hosting their annual Gratitude Meeting on Thanksgiving for Alcoholics Anonymous. I researched AA a bit on the internet just prior to entering treatment. I read how it's acceptable for people to show up and not speak, so that's exactly what I planned to do. I would just sit there quietly and invisibly while listening to all the sob stories told by Mr and Ms Anonymous. The last thing I wanted to do was participate. They can't expect me to do that at my first meeting. I felt anxious that I couldn't take Xanax anymore to numb my nerves because I would've definitely taken a few prior to this meeting. I wondered what these creatures looked like that didn't drink. Before meeting the girls at the house, I had only met a couple non-drinkers outside my family in my lifetime. Who were these other weirdos?
We walked into church and were the first ones there in a large meeting room with chairs sitting in a big circle. I grabbed some coffee and was very grateful that they had sweetener. I found myself beginning to appreciate the little things. I sat down next to Liz and we waited patiently for some cute boys to walk in. No longer would beer goggles impair us from judging hotness. As I sipped my coffee, I looked around at the people. They were just normal looking people that I passed by every day at the store, work, mall or on the street. They surprisingly weren't aliens. "There's a boy," Liz said. "Is he older than 80?" I asked. There were plenty of cotton tops in the room. I looked over at the boy and he was cute, but not really my type. Whatever my type is now that I'm sober.
There were about 50 of us gathered in the room and then the first person started telling their story. "Hi, I'm Jon and I'm an alcoholic." "Hi, Jon," we replied. Prior to this meeting, I've only encountered this scene in the movies and I always thought it was the corniest thing to say your name and your problem and then have everyone in unison say hi back. It seemed kind of cultish, but it became less corny as the meeting went on. I just treated it as a simple greeting between that person and myself. I don't know why, but I thought these meetings would be dull with people crying and feeling sorry for themselves. However, I was pleasantly surprised that almost everyone had a great sense of humor and laughed. Some of these people were super funny, almost all were great storytellers and why not? These were the same people that I loved talking to and laughed with at the bar or at a party. The only difference now is that we just can't drink anymore for our health. Why would our funniness disappear along with our drinking?
Some of the stories were very heartwarming and inspiring and some people brought their family or friends for support. I never thought I was a crier, but then the tears started flowing and would only intermittently stop. Almost all of us had one thing in common. We used to be walking dead people. We all wanted to die and waited impatiently for our time to come. Uh, oh! I noticed that everyone was speaking and no one was passing their turn. Wasn't anyone else a first timer? Grrr! My heart started pounding harder and my palms started getting sweaty. Some people said they were alcoholics and then added that they were also addicts. Was I supposed to admit both now? Geez! Finally, it was my turn.
"Hi," I was so anxious that I accidentally started talking before Liz was done and we both started chuckling. I started over. "Hi, I'm Cindy and I'm an alcoholic and addict. I'm grateful to be at my first meeting. It's been a long journey and even though, y'all are making me cry, I'm thankful to feel again. I spent years trying to numb myself. I'm grateful to be 10 days sober and to be at the treatment program that I entered yesterday, so Happy Thanksgiving." With that, I passed to the next non-alien.
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