Today marks a pivotal moment in my journey. While I didn’t conquer Mount Everest or witness the end of the world, something monumental occurred in Burlington, Vermont—I attended my first AA meeting.
For the past six months of sobriety, I had avoided going to a meeting, coming up with a myriad of excuses. That’s just not who I am. I wouldn’t enjoy it. Those alcoholics are different from me. I can manage this on my own. Blah blah blah.
Reflecting on those thoughts, I recall the many lies that kept me trapped in my drinking. One of the most absurd? That life would be too easy without the burden of hangovers. Yes, I actually believed that. My list of justifications was as extensive as the circumference of the equator—24,902 miles, to be exact.
This morning, I connected with individuals who have faced their own struggles and learned to live more authentically. I admit, my hesitation to attend this meeting—highly recommended by a friend—stemmed from its early 8 a.m. start time. Typically, I’m still in my pajamas, nursing a cup of coffee around that hour due to my Hashimoto’s disease. Yet today, I managed to roll out of bed at 7 a.m.
In an unexpected turn of events, I found myself cleaning the toilets (seriously) while my coffee brewed. With my mind too foggy to conjure excuses, I simply went.
As honesty circulated among the attendees during the hour-long meeting—I felt welcomed but not overwhelmed—I reflected on how drinking fosters deceit. I’ve come to realize that I used writing as an excuse to drink, and drinking as an excuse to write. You know, thinking: I’ll start writing early tonight!
Now, six months into recovery, I find that I genuinely enjoy the writing process—and the final product—far more. And to put this ridiculous lie to rest: life isn’t easier without hangovers. It’s challenging, but I’ve discovered that I can confront those challenges with open eyes and an open heart.
During the meeting, I even uttered the words I had sworn I would never say: “Hi, I’m Lisa, and I’m an alcoholic.” Surprisingly, it was more difficult to hold back those words than to let them flow.
I was captivated by the shared stories of struggle and laughter from the group. The phrase “a comedy of terrors” echoed in my mind. With each story shared, I recognized that I truly belong among them.
By 9 a.m., I left with a blue chip symbolizing my six months of sobriety. Just a week ago, I declared I would never want one of those “silly” chips. Yet, I held that small token close to my heart on the way home, as if it were the Holy Grail.
Later that day, I decided to share my experience with my 11-year-old son. He was both curious and pleased, but then he revealed the painful truth about how my drinking made him feel secondary to wine. Hearing that stung, and writing it down is no easier. However, my love for him is vast—like the equators of the universe—and I’m committed to facing this truth.
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Summary:
In this reflective piece, Lisa shares her breakthrough moment of attending her first AA meeting after six months of sobriety. She confronts the lies that fueled her drinking, discovers the power of honesty within the group, and ultimately embraces her identity as an alcoholic. Through her journey, she recognizes the strength found in vulnerability and the importance of facing uncomfortable truths, especially within her family.