Blessed to be Broken

I was nervous. I wasn’t sure exactly what I was walking into, but I felt it was something I needed to do.

So, on one of the weatheriest weather days of winter, my friend drove us to a nearby town.

Along the highway we witnessed vehicles in ditches, tow trucks, emergency vehicles, but we kept on keeping on, and we made it safely to our destination.

As we walked through the doorway of the building, I realized I’d been here before. It’s a quaint store, but today, or rather Sunday, it was much more.

We walked through the crowded room and found a seat.

We were the new gals to this function. Normally, being the new gal would have my being in a small state of panic. I’m not great at being the new gal or initiator of conversation.

Oh, I can square up my shoulders and put on a brave face with the best of them when required, but thankfully, I didn’t have to put on any airs.

Also, I was with someone who has no trouble in the conversing department. Thank you, Jesus.

I’m great once I get started, but I’m more of a scan the room for safety, and facial expressions first kind of gal.

We were greeted right away and my inner being told me this was a safe space. Now, if I could just remain under the radar of this thing, I’d be golden.

I guess I should tell you the reason behind my being in this room full of people.

It started years ago. Ok, more like decades ago. It started innocently enough.

I was in my crib. I scooted said crib over to my parent’s dresser. I grabbed onto a scarf and pulled it and the bottle of Tweed perfume into my caged space for naps and such.

I drank said bottle of perfume. My mom said when she awoke me up from my nap, I was walking into walls.

Apparently perfume back in the 60s packed a wallop, because according to the doctor, I was drunk.

I guess you could say that was my first experience with alcohol.

There would be many more experiences to come. Too many to count, and too many forgotten because of blackouts.

To say I’m an alcoholic isn’t easy. It’s not what I planned on being when I grew up.

Sure, I may have come by it “naturally” given my whole family at one time or another was considered addicts of something or another.

But, in the end, despite knowing the detrimental effects of alcoholism, I somewhere along the line started dancing through life with my worst best friend.

Allow me to tell you a little bit about her.

She loosened my inhibition’s. She slurred my speech. She made me sick in both mind and body. She ruined relationships. She brought me to my knees. She caused my world to spin.

She pretended to be my friend knowing full well the harm, embarrassment, and regret she’d cause.

Yet, I turned to her again and again for decades and got the absolute worst advice which in turn, provided the worst outcomes.

I could say I was a functioning alcoholic but in the end, I was still an alcoholic. Placing the word functioning in front of it, didn’t change it, it just made it sound more palpable. A rose by any other name, is still a rose.

Okay, back to the room my friend and I entered.

After we found our spot, my friend went to grab a cup of coffee. While she was gone a gentleman asked me, “How long you been in the room”?

Being my smart alecky self, I thought, “hello, you saw me come in here and sit down.” But, instead, I said, “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you’re asking.”

He was asking how long I’d been a part of Alcoholics Anonymous.

I innocently answered, “This is my first meeting.”

My friend returned with her coffee, and the meeting began.

I wasn’t there to engage. I was there to observe. I’d seen plenty of television shows about these meetings, but I wanted to know first hand what happened here.

My want and or plans to fly under the radar, didn’t happen. Oh, don’t think for a second it wasn’t for my lack of trying. Believe me, I wanted nothing more than to sit in silent observation.

But, you know what, God was knocking on my heart once again to get something out of me, I didn’t want to say out loud. Especially to a group of people.

How easy is it to be a keyboard warrior over stating out loud in public one of your biggest fears?

As I listened to the many stories of shared experiences, I realized there was nothing to fear here. They all made this first step at one point or another in their sobriety journey.

Then it happened. They found out it was someone’s first meeting. Eeeek! You can well imagine who they were looking at since there were new people in the room.

I came clean. I told them it was my first meeting. I didn’t go into any detail. I wasn’t ready for that nor did they expect more from me. There was no pressure to even tell them it was me.

But, I knew it my knower, I needed to speak up.

I wasn’t necessarily relieved I spoke up, but I knew I was one step closer of ridding myself from the ill effects of my worst best friend.

I can’t tell you the exact date I gave up my worst best friend. I can tell you it was approximately 8 years ago I kicked her to the curb.

Truth be told, it was a hard decision. In no way, was it me simply deciding and saying, no more.

It was a surrender to Jesus and so much more.

I’d like to say I don’t think about drinking. But, I do. I’d like to say despite knowing what I know it’s done to me, my family, and friends I’ll never drink again.

But, I know better than to play with the word never. That’s a prideful state of mind.

Will I go to another meeting? That remains to be realized.

But, if any of you who read this column, are on the fence about going to a meeting, let me assure you, you’ll be among friends.

You’ll be among people who struggled, and still struggle to maintain sobriety,

The shame is not found in the meeting. The shame is found in the deepest parts of a being where we hide the things we don’t want to talk about.

The funny thing about shame, is we all have it. No one is immune to having shame. Don’t allow shame to have the final say.

Shame is a chain that can be broken. Shame is not our future.

There’s no limit on the number of times we need to bring light into the darkness.

Everyday brings a new opportunity for change. To rise above what desperately attempts to bring us down.

Friend, I don’t know what you carry, but rest assured God does.

We don’t have to live in isolation.

The first step you take towards your fear, is the hardest, best step you’ll take.

I guarantee that step is a bazillion times better than stepping out with your worst best friend.

I’m listening if you ever need to talk.

May God bless you and keep you, this day and every day moving forward.