“The
most dangerous person in recovery I have ever met”
“My
name is Brad and I am an alcoholic and addict”
“Rarely
have we seen a person fail who has thoroughly followed our path…” The first
time I set foot into a 12 step self help group I was 17 years old. I look back
and still don’t fully understand why I was there I simply knew I needed to be
there. The meeting room was full of mostly older men, some women, and the few
residents of treatment who had also received passes to attend. I had little in
common with those who attended and shared. Their stories of losing jobs, wives,
husbands, homes, and everything, was nothing like my story. I had nothing to
lose. I was here to build something, to get something. They shared their
stories and I listened carefully. I shared very little, I had not lost everything.
I observed men share the same story over and over, I suppose their retelling of
this moment was a reminder of what waited for them outside the walls of the
meeting. Stories of waking up in alleys and jail cells. Told and retold. The
same story. Over and over. I was encouraged by my counselor to complete a
30/30. 30 meetings in 30 days. I went everyday, sometimes two times per day. I
could not get enough. Of what I did not know. I just knew I needed to be there
and going felt right. I immersed myself in all their publications, read all
their books, and observed the comings and goings of every member of the group.
I completed my 30 meetings and challenged myself to complete a 90/90. Challenge
may not be the correct word as going became an obsession and missing was
unthinkable. I got my first job while still at the residential facility. The
management and coworkers were supportive of what I was trying to accomplice. My
work schedule was made to fit around my meeting schedule. I got two sponsors
and began the process of working on my steps. One sponsor was an old timer who
helped with the step process and the other was a college student who would
teach me how to be a 17 year old recovering addict.
I remember
being very confused. Very unsure, very nervous, very scared. I didn't know who
I was, how I was to act, who I would spend time with, what I would do.
Most
days I still feel this way.
I
had something to look forward to. A glimmer of hope. What was I getting?
“Rarely have we seen a person fail who has thoroughly followed our path”
Failure, I had tasted that and knew I didn’t want to return, at least not right
now. I enjoyed my freedom too much. But what did success look like? I would
find comfort in my days of sobriety, a true mark of success. I knew that the statistics
were against me, I was expected to fail. I had built a foundation for the rest
of my life and no matter how bad a day was, or how stupid of a decision I had
made, I had tomorrow, the promise of another day. The coins I collected for
sobriety anniversary dates became evidence of this success. Proof of the
promise I never showed my coins to anyone, but carried them in my pocket as
though they were worth more than gold. Protected. Proof. Success. And my
12-step family celebrated my accomplishments like a true family. People were
genuinely proud of me, concerned and compassionate.
I will always consider
myself part of the 12 step family, much like the child they help raise, I will
forever be indebted to the people of 12 step groups for helping me become a
better person.
B
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