The center of the herd

Celebrating 1 year on Substack

“Give freely of what you find and join us. We shall be with you in the Fellowship of the Spirit, and you will surely meet some of us as you trudge the Road of Happy Destiny. May God bless you and keep you—until then.”

-Alcoholics Anonymous p. 164

I have two very good friends in AA who are dying of cancer. One is a husband, father, Vietnam vet, and retired school bus driver with decades of sobriety. The other is a wife, mother, and former social worker with nearly double-digit sobriety. They have both been sick with cancer for years now. And yet they still come to AA meetings on a regular basis. Even when the chemo is bad. My older friend is actually in home hospice now and I still saw him at the Sunday morning meeting. He was in my small group, where he told me how happy he was that I found somebody. My younger friend comes to our Tuesday women’s meeting. She calls it her night out—the only thing she is doing out now as she is enduring two types of chemo. They both speak openly and with little trepidation about death, about how their terminal illness is affecting their families, and about their frustration with doctors who are scared to give dying people pain medication.

These incredible AA’s remind me of why I stay in the middle of AA—the middle of the herd. Nothing is guaranteed in this life, and when the shit hits the fan, I have a place to go where everyone knows my name. And it’s not the bar. It is just too easy to let life get busy—and get the better of us. Isolation is dangerous. I am constantly vigilant of a tendency to want to detach from all people in all circumstances. And then my thinking becomes a problem. Me and my head can still be a very dangerous neighborhood. Today, when I go to a meeting mired in this kind of self-focus and self-pity, I can just sit back and let the magic begin. I don’t have to do a damn thing but sit there, either. I don’t have to be of service, I don’t have to talk, I don’t have to extend my hand to the newcomer. I can just sit and take it in and somehow I feel better—I always feel better.

God save me from isolation. And when I go to a meeting, I see my Higher Power in the faces of all I see and hear. Now if that isn’t enough reason to go—that needed reestablishment and connection to God, then nothing is. In my fear and isolation I lose my connection with my Higher Power first—and the meeting always brings me back.

I am so grateful to have been writing this Substack for one year. Just as when I began my book one very early morning in January 2021, I will never forget that cool fall day in late September 2022 when I got out my laptop and began typing. I write about what I know—and recovery through AA and Al-Anon is it. I have lived this life now for many years and am still so grateful. And I have never forgotten just how bad it got before I surrendered in both programs.

Thank you, dear reader. Every time you open a post or subscribe to Ask Anonymous, my little sober heart beats a joyous tune. Sharing my experience, strength, and hope works in many different ways for the modern AA, and this way is incredible.