Thursday, February 22, 2024

There I Go Again, Again

 I heard the greatest all-time Alcoholics Anonymous Freudian slip in the meeting today.  The phrase "a psychic change" occurs three times in our literature, all of them in The Doctor's Opinion.  The dude speaking substituted "psychedelic" in place of "psychic."  As in, "we've had a psychedelic change."  There was a great deal of laughter and it was universal today.  No one did not think that was funny and I'm going to ABUSE that poor man over that misspeak.

To go along with my ongoing screed about not giving advice I'm moved to repeat a few more Musts and Do Nots.

I never yell at anyone.  I never tell anyone they're screwing up.  We know when we're screwing up and nobody needs to have it pointed out in a tone of condemnation, especially with a group of people who are remarkably hard on themselves already.

No one is thinking about me.  NO ONE!  No one is doing anything to me.  They're not planning and scheming to do things that cause me harm or discomfort.  Self-propulsion ("Most people live by self-propulsion" saith The Big Book) is the M.O. of most people.  They're deciding to do something or not to do something only after considering how they'll be personally affected.  Now, there is a hyperbole alert going off but I personally always default to the position of not being the target of anyone else's behavior.

Having someone correct me or contradict me privately, in a group of people, or in front of everyone during a meeting bothers me not at all.  Have at it.  On occasion I take what they say as constructive criticisim given in good faith and can apply it to bettering myself or ignoring it, as the case may be or maybe I should say as the mood strikes me.  Mostly, I don't care what anyone thinks of me and the payoff for this arrogance is that's awfully hard to get under my skin.  Love me, hate me, just think about me.  A motto for right living that one.

After the meeting began a new woman who I just me came in and sat in the outer row, Relapse Row.  She began collecting her things afterwards so - being the self-apointed No One Gets Out of Here Without Checking In guy - I went over and said hello and asked how she was doing.  "Not so good," she said and then proceeded to start talking about some interpersonal drama she had going on and that it was acute enough emotionally that she drank yesterday.  As she was speaking her eyes welled up with tears that began spilling down her cheeks and dripping off her chin.  I was touched and moved and amazed that she could keep talking while this was happening.  This wasn't dramatic weeping and wailing and knashing of teeth crying, feel-sorry-for-me crying - these were tears of pure misery, pure emotional misery.  I gave her a quick hug but mostly just stood there attentively while she talked.  SuperK said that often women are so grateful that someone is listening to them that it really opens up the tear ducts.  I waved a couple of women over to chime in and reminded her that if you want to get two days you've got to get one first.  A good reminder as to what lies in wait for me out there if I ever decide to drink again.  

It doesn't look good.



No comments: