Today marked a significant turning point for me. While I didn’t scale Everest or witness the end of days, something monumental happened in Burlington, Vermont—I attended my first AA meeting.
For the past six months of sobriety, I had avoided going to a meeting, concocting a myriad of excuses. It’s not my thing. I won’t fit in. Those alcoholics are different from me. I’m just someone who stopped drinking. I can handle this alone.
The narratives I spun were endless, much like the distance around the Earth—24,902 miles of justifications and fabrications. One of my favorites? Life would be so uncomplicated without hangovers. Yes, I genuinely believed that.
This morning, however, I encountered individuals who have faced their own struggles and chosen to live with greater authenticity. I must admit, my hesitation to attend this particular meeting—highly recommended by a friend—stemmed from its early start time of 8 a.m. Typically, I’m still in my pajamas, nursing my coffee at that hour due to my Hashimoto’s disease. Yet today, I managed to rise at 7 a.m. and, for some odd reason, decided to clean the toilets while my coffee brewed. With my mind foggy, I found it hard to create excuses to turn back, even using my thyroid condition as a valid reason to crawl back into bed.
As honesty flowed among the attendees during the hour-long meeting, I realized how alcohol had fostered dishonesty in my life. I can now acknowledge that I used writing as a pretext to drink, and drinking as an excuse to write—I’d convince myself that I needed a drink to get the creative juices flowing.
Six months into my recovery, I find writing more enjoyable and fulfilling than ever. Let’s debunk another lie: life is definitely not easier without hangovers. It’s challenging, but I now have the strength to confront those challenges head-on.
During the meeting, I even uttered the words I had sworn never to say: “Hi, I’m Sarah, and I’m an alcoholic.” Surprisingly, it was more difficult to hold back those words than to let them slip out.
I was captivated by the stories of struggle and laughter shared in the group. It felt like a “comedy of terrors.” As I listened, I realized that I truly belong among them.
At 9 a.m., I walked out with a blue chip symbolizing my six months of sobriety. I had previously promised myself I would never desire one of those “silly” tokens, yet I held it close on my journey home, treating it like a treasure.
Later that day, I chose to share my experience attending the AA meeting with my 11-year-old son. He was curious and supportive, but then he revealed a painful truth about how it felt to him when wine seemed more significant to me than he was. Hearing that stung, and writing it down is no easier. Yet, for the love I have for him—vast as the equators of the universe—I will confront this truth.
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In summary, my journey through recovery has led me to confront many truths about myself, including the lies that once held me captive. Attending my first AA meeting not only provided a sense of belonging but also marked a significant step forward in my journey towards honesty and healing.