Meet me in a meeting. We’ll talk.

Meet me in a meeting. We’ll talk.

I did it. I finally dragged my sorry butt into a meeting because… well… that is what you do when you are an addict who is going bat-shit crazy.  There is nothing more unnatural than a sober alcoholic or a clean addict.  It goes against the very fiber of the universe.  It’s like being dropped into a foreign land where no one makes sense.  Meetings are a way of finding a tour guide to get you through.  So, I figured the fact that I was jonesin’ for a fix after FIVE YEARS dammit, perhaps it was time to get my happy ass back where it needed to be.

You see, I was one of those fortunate ones who go through rehab, avoid the slips and relapses and get cured.  Cured!  Woohoo!  Except there is no cure.  But of course, I am above all of that program nonsense.  I am different.  I have been clean for FIVE YEARS, dammit. 

Except that all I could think about lately while I have been working on a project is how easy it was to get the pills I needed.  How easy it was to fool everyone.  How good it felt to not give a rat’s ass about anything because I was so mellow yet flying high enough that I was productive.  I of course have been selective enough to forget the fact that I almost lost everything I held dear and nearly killed myself.  Who needs those kind of bummer memories? 

Well, I do.

So, I crawled back through the doors of a new meeting place.  New faces.  New surroundings.  New smells.  (Oh, who am I kidding?  All meetings smell like cigarette smoke.) But other than that, it was all new.

Except it wasn’t.

The stories were the same.  The desperation was the same.  The experience, strength and hope were all the same.  It was like coming home. 

I was not going to talk.  I didn’t need to talk.  I was cured, remember.  I had FIVE YEARS dammit. 

Except I did talk.  And it flowed out of me in a way that shocked me more than it did the rest of them.  Where was this coming from?  Apparently, the work I have been doing has been a lot harder on me than I thought it was.  SO very worth it, but tough.  I shared with them about it.  I shared how I haven’t been to a meeting in short of forever. I shared that I had FIVE YEARS dammit.

Yeah, they said “So what?”, too.

Like I said, it was like coming home.  I needed it.  I am glad I went. Because sometimes, you just need to grab someone and let them know you are struggling.  You need to tell someone that you can’t do it alone.  Sometimes, you just need to be with someone who understands where you’ve been and where you are.  Sometimes, it really is okay to say help.


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