I didn’t say a word the whole hour.
And for me, that’s really something.
I shuffled in with all the rest of them.
Throughout the evening, nobody asked for last names, and nobody volunteered them, either.
Once I sat down, I looked around this upstairs room, smack in the middle of so many broadway shows in the heart of the theatre district.
Dreams and brokenness, side by side.
Of course.
I read slogans painted on the walls;
agreeing silently with statements like: PROGRESS NOT PERFECTION
and:
SERENITY
and also:
WHEN I CAN’T, HE CAN
I didn’t really belong–not in the sense that I’d ever struggled with alcoholism before, at least–
But.
A room full of slogans like that?
A room full of people who’ve been through it?
I felt like if I went to the bathroom sink, I’d probably see my bright green toothbrush right there.
I felt at home.
See, after asking his permission, my friend allowed me to go with him to an artist’s sobriety meeting.
An AA meeting for creative people.
I’ve read so much about it–struggling through my own co-dependency issues after my life had essentially turned to shit–and many of the steps recommended were taken right from AA.
Plus, if it was okay, I wanted to be in a room full of people who share their hearts.
There’s a Dar Williams album called The Honesty Room, and I’m
not sure of many other rooms that are more honest than one where AA meets.
I was fascinated from the beginning.
By the readings.
By the person who shared; who talked about creating from a place of sobriety now–
And the brilliant contrast it is to how life used to be.
Afterward, I went to a diner with he and my friend.
“Are you an alcoholic?” the speaker asked me, point blank.
“She’s normal,” my friend quickly explained.
“I’m NOT!” I said, defensive about being referred to as ‘normal.’
“But it’s true–I’m not an alcoholic–but I do love an alcoholic…and…and…I’m co-dependent!” I said, desperately, hoping that was good enough.
“You could always go to CODA,” he suggested, much later.
After we were about one hundred sweet potato fries in at the diner.
“You know, co-dependents anonymous,” he explained.
“Not that you can’t go to Artist’s Sobriety, if you want to,” he quickly amended, which was sweet of him.
“I did really like it–and the themes–those are universal. Letting a higher power help you; letting go; the serenity prayer–I can relate to all of that.” I said.
“Well, come as much as you want. Seriously. And maybe try CODA, too–I’ll go with you, if you want.”
Which is when I got really excited and said, “YOU’RE co-dependent TOO?!”
“Who the f*** isn’t?! he said, taking one more of my fries and laughing.
Which is when I knew I had made a new friend.
But the meeting.
It was beautiful.
I felt like I was walking into a very sacred place.
Like if you listened hard enough, you could just about hear all the prayers of all the mothers said for all their children to Please, God–let them be well and healthy. Let them be free..
In that room, you realize that grace isn’t something that happened just once, maybe back when you were a baby, or back when your grandmother used to tell you stories and rock you like you mattered; no, here, grace is a necessity every single day.
And you find it because you need it.
Desperately.
It’s that simple.
And there’s something that a silver haired gentleman with a belt the size of Texas said that I’m still thinking about now, hours later. “I’m more comfortable calling myself an alcoholic than I am calling myself an artist,” was how he began his three minutes of sharing. “But maybe that shouldn’t be. I mean, it’s just a fact. Just like saying I’m male, I’m a New Yorker, I’m an old guy, I’m an alcoholic–it’s all just facts about me. Not necessarily even commentary. So why doesn’t saying I’m an artist count just as much? I think maybe it does; I think maybe it should. It’s just as much a part of me as all the other facts, and I don’t want to deny myself of that title any more.”
Or that was at least the gist of what he said.
And its simplicity struck me. Let’s not deny ourselves the titles that are rightfully ours. Let’s spend more time being who we are and less time questioning our worth. Just like the guy said. Live by the facts. Which means that first we have to know them.
Artists.
Humans.
Dreamers.
Givers.
Peacemakers.
Thinkers.
Helpers.
Broken.
Resilient.
Created for good things.
Imperfect.
Not Done Yet.
Just the facts, folks; just the facts.
I so <3 this post. It stoked a warm, familiar fire in my soul. I forget sometimes, after 10 + years in that honesty room, how magical and comforting and homey it can be. Early in my sobriety, in Chicago, my AA Friends and I would open the meeting directory and traverse the city, far and wide, seeking out a new meeting each week to revel in that feeling of hominess in different environments and with different walks of life. I'd see rock icons amongst old homeless men. Or, be in a meeting with teenagers, or housewives, or whoever. I'd go with my Uncle in Arizona and the meeting's median age would be 70! Or, when traveling and I'd locate a meeting and it would have that vibration to it, that connection, so far from home.
That and the slogans. The idea and practice of surrender as a path to strength. That faith in God, or a God of your understanding, will always hold you up and show you the way if you commit to it. The serenity prayer, the whole twelve steps connection to the twelve commandments, and the influence of the bible in the language of the AA Big Book (You should read it, hardly a word's been changed since the main 168 pages were first written in 1939. To think all the people's whose broken lives were transformed by those words…) It really is an amazing, amazing spiritual environment.
So glad that you shared your experience!
Oh Doc, what wonderful insights you left here–thank YOU. And yes, it’s amazing how many backgrounds are represented in that meeting. And nobody cares, really. Everyone just wants each other better. Recovered. The kind of encouragement one feels in there IS warm fire in the soul, to coin your words. I honestly think that every person would do very well to go to a meeting like that. It’s just plain good for the soul.
oh–and I WOULD love to the read the AA Big Book–that sounds beautiful.
Honestly, I never realized when I started the recovery group several months ago how much this group–and now, expanded group–would come to mean to me. One of our major premises: every person on earth is an addict. Every person puts some obstacle in front of God and living life. All sorts of people come to the meeting with all different kinds of addictions. Together we make a wonderful community. It’s a place safe to share, to care, and to be a community. I come home every Sunday night feeling solid, knowing I’m loved and that people as well as God have my back. I love it!
Yeah, mom, I am so glad you have that group. That’s wonderful. Do you guys use any of the stuff from AA? You use a book, right? What book is it?
Jess!! what a great post! I have gone to AA meetings with my Dad. When I was little and as an adult and I have always felt very comfortable there. There is such a brokenness and hope at the same time..I love that it seems that no one is trying to hide, their trying to be known and healed..it is a beautiful thing. I love that no one is trying to be perfect. It truly is a refreshing experience! I am so glad that you got to experience that! If you ever go to a CODA meeting, i will go with you!!!;)
Sarah–I would love to go to a CODA meeting with you sometime. Is there any near where you live? Maybe when I’m back home sometime we could venture out:)
Beautifully written. I didn’t actually know what co-dependency really was until I just googled it. I’ve always been wary of people that use labels and psycho-babble to excuse their behavior and bad decisions. I suspect that that is a reaction to the things that have gone on in my own family and amongst my so called friends.
As I read through the information and questionnaire on co-dependency, imagine my surprise when I realized that it seems I am indeed co-dependent. It was like reading my diary. It really does explain a lot about my past relationships, and perhaps why I avoid them now.
By the way, Jessica, it’s your blog that makes me feel at home. It makes me laugh, it makes me think, it lifts me up, and it often times makes me learn something about myself. Thank you for writing. Really.
Ok, that’s enough revelation for one day (I never intend to do this). I think this blog is making me soft, sheesh. I need to just stick with trying to be funny.
Hey Rob. What a beautiful comment; it’s okay if you don’t try to be funny once in a while, for sure:)
and this–”I’ve always been wary of people that use labels and psycho-babble to excuse their behavior and bad decisions.”
–yes, I hear you. I am wary of it, too. But it also helps to define some of the problems one has; helps to find ways to get better, if you know what’s not so healthy.
May I recommend Codependent No More? It’s a beautiful, rich book that has helped me tremendously. If you have the time, you should read it.
Funny you should mention that book. I was at the bookstore this evening (which I should do more often even when I’m not looking for something to read)looking for a cookbook (because a grown-ass man really should know how to cook) when I noticed the self-help section was right behind me. I noticed that book right away and after thumbing through it I decided to buy it. And now I discover that you recommended it. So thanks for sending that vibe out.
On a seperate bookstore rant: why can’t they figure out a way of printing titles on the splines vertically so I don’t have to spend an hour with my head tilted to the side? This is the kind of weird stuff I think about.
<3
<3 right back at you:)
Ahem…as a fellow recovering Co-dependent I LOVE this!!! And if you and Sarah venture out I wanna come too!
oh, sarah–I would love that! I am sure Sarah would, too!
if we find something, I will be sure to let you know!
In the past I have been to ACOA meetings (Adult Children of Alcoholics) and found them very helpful.
Great post.
I LOVE THIS. I want an “A” group to go to, though the problem is, we’re ALL “A” already! That’s why we can’t find each other! HA!