meetings

6 tips for 12 step meeting shares (Part 2)

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In the last article, I shared a few tips about sharing at a meeting.

Ya know, just a few things that’ve helped me personally: (How to clear your head beforehand, how to authentically talk when you speak, and how to not have a memory eff up when it’s share o’ clock.) Those are all great for the personal part of it. But what about the other folk in the room? Just because you’re not playing verbal volleyball all meeting, doesn’t mean some level of exchange isn’t happening. It totally is. So, here’s just a few more tips I’ve accrued in recovery on the silently interactive part of sharing.

4. Be open-minded and observe the situation.

Now that you’re comfy enough in your own skin to share, you might hear a follow up share from someone else that either feels like it’s negatively comparing or condescending or (Higher Power forbid) they might even break out the second person: “YOU”. “You need to…” or “You have to…”

Ugh.

No matter what comes after, it’s automatically vexing advice – espesh since it’s coming from someone you don’t even know. And, I’ll admit, my auditory drapes start to draw themselves closed when I hear that shiz too. But I try to remember something anytime this happens. (Especially since I’ve taken the time to come to a meeting and want to get something out of it.) See, I was really lucky before going into my first meetings. Beforehand, I encountered some next level spiritual people who taught me this: “Anyone who’s acting aggressive is going through issues of their own. There’s no need to feel attacked by them. But you can feel compassion for them.” The other thing? That “Everyone is your teacher.” The serene chick in the corner. The jovial ex-drunk leading the meeting. The quiet guy in the corner. They are all demonstrating for you what elements of yourself you’d like to educe and which ones you’d rather release and avoid. A man – John, I think, was his name – got in my face after one meeting, telling me what I needed to do. He was very loud and overbearing. My natural draw was to get loud back at him. Instead? I smiled, thanked him for his suggestions, and asked him how his recovery was going. I won’t lie and say that I really wanted to know. I knew anyone acting in such a nerve-grating way couldn’t be doing great. But, I also won’t say it was sarcasm. Because it genuinely wasn’t. What I was trying to do, rather, was show compassion – by helping him reroute his aggressive energy back toward managing his own recovery. It’s so easy to try and fix other people when you’re unwilling to fix yourself. I try to remember John every time I find myself doing this outside the rooms. In that way, even the Johns of the world are our teachers. They’re a beautiful reminder of how we don’t wanna be.

My hope’s that John left, recognizing that in himself and trying to change it.

I’d love to see him somewhere down the line, thriving and authentically content.

5. Build off others’ shares

While the aim in sharing’s to vent or inspire, it’s always nice to know we’re heard.

(Which is tough feedback to get in those no-interaction meetings, which most’ve ’em are.) So, I try cognitively jotting down a few notes and nametaking when I hear others offering their stories. I invite you to try this. See if their eyes don’t light up when you liken your tale to theirs: “I like the point that Sharon brought up about having a morning routine. I think that’s what might be missing from my recovery” or “That could have been me saying Karen’s share; I binged watched three seasons of Sons of Anarchy in a weekend, too…” It’s easier for others to listen to you when they know you’ve been listening to them . And for you, it’s a practice in seeing how you ‘n your new crew are more similar than different.

6. Don’t forget the “strength” and “hope” when you share.

This final one just might be the most salient.

Because you’ve probably heard the phrase about sharing “experience, strength, and hope” before. And that’s the idea with shares. You start with the hideous history, and then ‘xplain how you rose like a fluffing Phoenix outta the ashes and what cosmic force or random act of kindness ore epiphany helped you do it. Thing is, on a bad day, it can be easy to “forget” those hopeful facets of your story. Why? ’cause when we’re wallowing in problems, life’s lighter parts seem so far away. Plus, if we wanna use, a convenient memory lapse about your past helps you confirm your cravings.


“So, that’s my experience. Now for the dope. I mean hope.”

This is why meetings (and shares) are so important, I suppose.

I mean, if we force ourselves to talk about the bad, the ugly, and the good and the transcendentally inspiring – we’re reminding ourselves out loud of the whole picture. About why we’re staying sober ‘n clean. So are those around us with their similar shares. So, yeah, talk about your drunk or drug-a-log, sure. Even talk about how you miss the warm and cozy hug of drugs. But, we should never leave out the bit about how bad it got and why we stopped. That alcoholic aha moment. The hope that followed. All of that’s vital for all attendees – not the least of whom’s the sharer. Like my friend Marcy whose son died in a car accident – just a few months before the night I met her. Her shares were always fascinating, because it was never just what she was saying but how she was as she was saying it. There was this radiance that shone straight from the tools the program had equipped her with. Despite the gut wrenching pain she was visibly in, there was this unbridled fire of serenity and love that raged on within her. And it was contagious. She needed those meetings to keep it going – in her, and in the rest of us. And when she spoke about being grateful for her time with her son – or for coming into the program in time to have the means to handle such tragedy without using, I believed her. It didn’t feel like lip service. She wasn’t faking.

And it made me want to keep coming back… so I wouldn’t have to either.

6 tips for 12 step meeting shares (Part 1)

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“Sorry if I seem nervous…

…I’m used to having a cocktail of narcotics and benzos coursing through me before this sort’ve thing. But… I’m trying to see if I can get on without them. Just for today. Just for this hour. The next fifteen minutes. And, ya know, so far – aside from the sweats, shakes, and that burgundy Minotaur that keeps appearing in the corner which I’m pretty sure’s not real – ya know… so good.”

My opening share got a good belly laugh from my fellow meeting attendees, but mayhaps the most funny thing about it was probably that I wasn’t trying to be funny. (For once.) On the contrary, I was terrified. See, I was in withdrawal. And crazy. And angry. And anxious to share with strangers. But that instant connection immediately drew me in. Realizing they were laughing because they could relate, put us all on a common ground. And it made this formerly daunting prospect – talking in front’ve randoms – seem so much easier. We weren’t strangers anymore. We were chemical-free comrades about to shoot the shiz about our history and hope. Sharing is never easy in a meeting. But by doing it, it bonds us with a like-minded tribe of people, inspires others, and builds up that feel-good hormone Oxytocin that lets us leave feeling like we’ve just filled up at the spiritual smorgasbord. That’s why I’ve come up with a few tips to help myself out during the course of recovery. Here are six of them that’ve helped me out heaps.

You’re welcome to try them, if you like:

1. Pregame if you can

Some of us might recall the joys of pre-gaming. (Getting so lit you’re illiterate before you even hit the main event. Which for some may have been the club – and for others – everyday life.) While the days of polluted pregamery are long gone, there’s still value behind the idea of the pregame that can apply now. That’s pregaming for your meeting. When I have time, I like to get into a “meeting mindset”. Actually, I try to do this before any interactive event where service is a factor – whether it’s a meeting or my everyday job. It’s like a mental preparation to get me in the giving spirit. (Versus my yooj default setting of selfishness.) That’s why meditating beforehand’s always helped me. We all do it differently, though. For some of us, it turns into plugging into our Higher Power outlet and requesting a little serenity. For some it might be a cardio or yoga ritual. For others, yet, it might even just be perusing the program literature. Whatever you do, make sure to toggle on that deep breathing to toggle off your schizo mode. ’cause a lot of the thought induced craziness in your brain’s based on what your body’s doing. It’s far easier for sharing-clarity to come when you’re calm. Tuning into a tranquil pre-game’s a great way to make that happen.

2. The thought part of the pregame

While clearing your mind of egoic bullshiz is definitely priority, there’s a whole ‘nother level to prepping. Especially for those early recovery days when your thoughts are lost in a glob of neural linguine. And that’s the idea of making a light list of share points. Throughout the day, I’d just jot down ideas in my phone as they’d come about stuff that was bothering or inspiring me. It helped me make this bulletized, mental list of what I wanted to cover later. Because the idea’s never to “rehearse” (we’re not doing a standup bit or Toastmaster’s meeting here); but there’s nothing worse than coming home after a meeting and thinking “Ah, I really wanted to get that off my chest”. (But if you do, then you can always text – or even go crazy and call – your sober buddy to keep the recovery after-party going strong.

3. Speak from the heart.

Keep in mind, though, having a mental guideline doesn’t mean you can’t share authentically.

Quite the opposite. Remember that you took any notes you did before – because that was what you were genuinely feeling earlier today. Many of us tend to clam up and verbally vomit out everything but what’s legitimately bothering us once it comes time to talk. Why? I dunno what your reason is, but I did this a lot back when I was new (still do on days I forget the mental pregame aspect), and then later on when I return to the rooms after being out’ve them for a while. And what’s going on in my brain? “What if I’m sharing wrong? Saying something that’s not in line with the program principles? What if I’m the only one who’s done this and they’re judging me?” Keep in mind that the peeps around you are there to relate and share in your experience – not accost you. Half of anxious sharing comes from nothing more than self-consciousness. (The other half probably being withdrawals ‘n the like, I imagine.) Lucky for us, there’s a fix for this. Many a confidence coach will tell you “act as if everyone already likes you”. The idea’s that you don’t have to try to worry about anyone’s approval by saying or being anything other than what comes naturally. They’re already cool with you. Mission accomplished. Now you can move on by talking to these peeps like they’re the pages of your personal junkie or drunkie journal.

(Continue reading here for how to share interactively at a meeting.)

The five people you meet in meetings

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I learn something every time I set foot in a meeting.

Sometimes it’s who I want to emulate. Sometimes it’s what I want to avoid.

Sometimes it’s that I need to find a new meeting altogether.

(Some groups can tend to lose their focus a bit.)


“Um… is this the 7:30 ‘Steppin’ with Jesus’ meeting?”

But the interesting thing is that – no matter how varied or crazy the personalities seem to be in the rooms – I always end up gaining some sort’ve insight after I leave. Retrospectively, as the bits of diction from shares I heard resonate in my mind, I’ll make some kind of connection I’d not’ve made without formerly-homeless-now-rocking-a-three-piece-suit Joe’s nostalgic reflection regarding dining outta garbage bins five years ago. And we all judge. We’re not meant to. But we all take inventory in the rooms and start putting people in buckets. So, for the sake of honesty, here’re just a few I’ve noticed in recovery – and what they’ve taught me:

The Buddha

This is the dude (or chick – whatever) who really “gets it”. They don’t talk about getting it. They don’t tell you how to get it. Authentic sans acting, they just lead by example and remind you of why you stay in the program in the first place.

The Critic

Maybe he takes the basic text with a dash of fire and brimstone in his shares. Maybe he’s frothing at the mouth to issue you a full on powerpoint presentation on how you’re failing right after a meeting. Maybe he’s just a zealot – making recovery uncomfortable for you. Taking the program seriously is great. But this guy forgets he’s not the elected representative tasked with the mission to pry into your recovery and enlighten you on how you’re doing life wrong. That’s what your sponsor’s for. And, though it’s easy to get defensive or self-conscious when you’re being attacked, it’s your job to remember he’s not your recovery confidant. You can be civil – but don’t have to level with him. Or explain yourself to him. What I’ve found, is that if you’re feeling especially Buddha-esque, you can always indicate that you sense something’s wrong in his life, ask him if he’s okay, and see if he needs someone to talk to about it. If nothing else, it’ll shut ’em up. Usually.

The Mentor

Maybe they’re your sponsor. Maybe they’re just the first person who reached out to you. Either way, they’ve been there for you through the good, the bad, and the award-winningly-warts-and-all level ugly. It’s not that they can “do no wrong”. We all know better than that. But, somehow, their wrongs are easier to internally judge less harshly than the angry dry drunk sitting next to you.

The Quiet One

He doesn’t speak much, but when he does, it’s one of those shares that culminates in a mushroom cloud of light bulb moments for everyone in the room. If you sense this person’s shy and maybe without a network, maybe exchange numbers – or suggest a friend of the same gender does.

The Mirror

This is the one who shows you to yourself. I remember the first time I met a mirror. She’d been “the quiet one” all meeting. But when she finally shared, I was floored. Not because it was some planet shattering “aha” moment – but because it was identical to something I’d just experienced. Naturally, since I was paranoid and still coming off’a drugs – I assumed she was sent there to indirectly manipulate me via her eerily similar life story. After a few meetings, however, I came to realize the truth. The lie the drugs reinforce is that we’re so alone in the way we feel. That we’re so different from everyone else.

The truth, contrarily, is that though we may wear any of these different masks…we’re terribly alike.

So much so that none of us is any single one of the above labels.

In fact, in the eyes of someone else sitting in the seat across from you or I on any given day, we’ve probably both played each ‘n every role – depending on where we are in our recovery. How we’re feeling that day. What we’re allowing to affect us. We can’t be the Buddha every day. And the fact of the matter is – we’re not meant to be. We’re meant to oscillate – so that we can learn. Much like we can learn from Cynical Sam of how we don’t want to be, we only attain Buddha Bob’s level depending on how humble we are when we come down to our lowest selves. It’s easy to give into the misery of a day we feel’s gone wrong. To spread that discontent with pessimism, judgment, or a scowl tattooed across our faces. That’s a fast track back into our old ways… which lead to the cliff’s edge of active addiction. The miracle, on the other hand, comes when we can snatch up enough awareness to look at Buddha Bob (whoever that is tonight), leading the meeting with a halo ‘round his coif, and say:

“Right. That’s what I’m here for.”

So, who do you wanna aspire to today?

Who are your inspo-vation dealers?

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What’s your inspo-vation?

(Why, yes, this is another Ashleyism. Let’s go with it for now, shall we?)

For me, inspiration and motivation are like those two components of ayahuasca – when separate, they’re cool and all; but mush ‘em together and they’ll blow your mind. While I tend to think of inspiration as being something intrinsic, that bubbles up within you (not unlike passion or creativity), motivation seems to feels more external when it hits me. I tend to think of being motivated toward a goal because others either rely on me – or because I really want it due to what it will mean for me in my place in society. And why do I need both? Well, inspiration can hit me – but I can ignore it or only half act on it if self doubt or apathy hit me as I’m about to indulge it. That’s where motivation comes in. But motivation needs inspiration just as much as inspiration needs motivation. Motivation can prompt me to act – but then, once I do, I might execute the task poorly or not get the most out of it (if I’m only motivated out of fear instead of inspiration.) That’s why I’ve found it’s important in my own path that the two synch up like a music eating ipod (but hopefully faster than the archaic one I own) so that I can belt out a beautiful, metaphorical melody of mellowness in reply to reality as SHTF (AKA the moment I step out the door).


(Which is, incidentally, the opposite of my factory default setting.)

Now that you know what inspo-vation is, can you think of anything you’re currently doing that fits that bill?

Maybe you’re doing both parts without realizing it.

Maybe only half.

For example, I’ve come to notice that more than a handful of folk (including myself) I’ve met have a favorite book or insight-source they use like a spiritual magic 8 ball. You know what I mean? Open up a book randomly and – whatever page it’s on – the message scrawled across it was the one you were meant to get today? For some that’s “Just for today”. For others, it might be that one book Jesus’ pals wrote. And, for others yet who I’ve met in recovery, I’m pretty sure it must be the Necronomicon. For that matter, you might have a favorite show – from SuperSoul Sunday to In Deep Shift (a title I kinda love almost as much as the affably anxious grizzled host of the series.) Or maybe it’s a few channels you subscribe to online. Finding Gabrielle Bernstein was my early sobriety days’ life raft – not just because of her amazing wealth of helpful tips and tricks to hack your own ego, but because of the plethora of other related channels that hers led me to.

But my mind is tricky. It’ll try to delude me into thinking all this DIY stuff’s enough.

And before you know it, I’m isolating again.

That’s where the external motivation comes in – the push from the outside. The meetings. Your sponsor (if you’re in a step program). Or even just that one friend or mentor in your sober network you really connect with. Service work’s another optimal way to connect, too. It’s when we connect with others that all those trust and self-affirmation hormones start ping ponging us out of solipsism so we can remember what our place is in our tribe. Or that we even have a place, for that matter.

Whatever floats your sober boat, says I – so long as you have a recovery raft that’s built from the right kinda material. And what am I sailing away on lately? Well, for literature, one of my all time favorites from the step program is: “Living Clean”. The thing I like about this book is that while it offers good advice, it doesn’t feel like finger wagging advice. It reminds me of talking to my sponsor or one of those older wiser folk with lots of clean time under their belt (which they’re no longer using as a tourniquet) capable of leading me to self discovery in fewer than five minutes via nada but a line of heuristic inquiries. And the most surprising thing is that – while it’s not a giant gospel long novel – it manages to hit on most of the problems we face in recovery using good clear direction and sans the didactic stuff. That’s not to say that the other literature does the latter of the two, but somehow this book’s just different. Maybe it’s because of the copious quotes from those who are also going through it. Maybe it’s because I don’t have to listen about program traditions like I’m about to be inducted into the most boring sorority ever. Maybe it’s just because it applies to most of the areas of my life and every time I crack it open to a page, it fits jigsaw style into the problem puzzle that is my life that day.

Likewise, Gabby Bernstein’s modernization of “A Course In Miracles” is an ideal way to apply timeless concepts that make sense into our social lives. Many times, it feels like spiritual how-to’s don’t jibe with our tribe, work circles, or family. What Gabby manages to do, is to offer personal anecdotes about how she breaks out these inner tools to hack the external world when it starts caving in on her. It’s for this same reason that I’ll watch TED talks on motivation, creativity, consciousness, and inspiration (and even a few airy fairy ones – just to etherize my rambunctious child side.)

Then, obviously: find folk like you to connect with.

Why the books, videos and human connection? I know; I know – I wondered this initially too. And I suppose that – aside from the hormonal and neural rearranging connection imparts – it’s kinda the same reason they say not to do the steps alone. Self-deception is a pretty powerful foe that feeds off your self-sequestration. You can pick up a book or hear a video and receive a message to mean anything you want.


“Be present? Well, at present I’d like to reenact my favorite Requiem For a Dream scene. Thanks, Eckhart Tolle!”

It’s not till you’re open and willing to hear real life other humans – and take their tips with a grain of molecular symbol Na – that NA or AA or even Oprah’s latest platitudes will start to make any meaningful, applicable sense.
That’s what a good recovery raft should comprise. When it comes to sailing away from desolation island, IMHO, a super important life-saving synthesis is going to include both what quenches your inner thirst for comfort while simultaneously motivating you forward so you don’t look back. How’s that one quote go? “There’s no favorable wind for a sailor who knows not where he’s headed”, I think? Is it enough to look at the oars and be glad you have them? No. You’d better row your ass to safety, girl. Thus, I definitely champion getting that inspo/motivation combo. And getting it via as many manifestations as you can: meetings, networking, books, videos – the works. Preferably before the squall of chaotic-but-comfortable familiarity that was the soundtrack to your addiction era finds you first instead.


“YOU get some inspo… and YOU get some inspo. And YOU get…”

‘cause having a favorite DIY reminder is definitely a fantastic tactile way of connecting with spiritual direction when you’ve got nada else. But maybe take it to a meeting or lunch date later and pass it on to a living breathing companion – and then exchange thoughts on it. Because if we really, really want to change, we have to inundate our brain ipod with the replacement habit as frequently and diligently as we spent listening to that same old song whose lyrics were almost our early epitaph. And we must do it with the same ardency we executed while focusing on the getting and using of our former fixation. And what did we do when the fix ran out? We sought more.

So what’s your inspo-vation?

What serves as the serene beat to the backdrop of your days?

And where will you score more of that beautiful musical score today?

Why do they keep saying “keep coming back”?

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Why do they tell you to “keep coming back?”

It’s been 30 days. One month. 720 consecutive hours… that you’ve remained clean.

And by now you officially have so many meetings and self-help books under your belt that you waking yourself up in the middle of the night, reciting the opening program literature betwixt Buddhist quotes. Why the hell do you need to “keep coming back” now? Isn’t it stuck in there enough?

Not necessarily, says science.

You see, while the step programs will let you know straight away that they’re “spiritual, not religious”, we can’t avoid the basic biology behind it. I mean, they can, ‘cause it’s not their job to teach you brain science (plus you’d probably get bored). All you need to know is the old idiom “it works if you work it”. But if you’re naturally curious and intrinsically critical like I am, you probably have a million and one questions. Sure, you might remain quiet about them in a meeting – for the sake of seeming to seek out “similarities; not differences”, but the two year old within you batters you with the monosyllabic “Why? Why? But… WHY?” And she won’t be quieted until you get home and do some Googling yourself. Which is exactly what I did on one of those many sleepless nights, early on, when I was hoping to find something scientific to prove this was all one big stream of dog diarrhea and I shouldn’t be there. Unfortunately for my truculent ego terrified of change, I was gonna be disappointed.

What I found, early on in recovery, was a bit of neuro-scientific fact called neuroplasticity:

Neuroplasticity, also known as brain plasticity, is an umbrella term that encompasses both synaptic plasticity and non-synaptic plasticity—it refers to changes in neural pathways and synapses due to changes in behavior, environment, neural processes, thinking, and emotions – as well as to changes resulting from bodily.

Yes. Anything you do – any habit – literally, physically changes your brain.

You could spend those three months playing piano or learning Spanish instead, and you know what? Well, you’d get really good at bellowing out Enrique Iglesias’s “Hero” in his native tongue while plunking out the accompanying chords (couldn’t hurt on the dating scene, either, IMHO). But, also, a brain-o-gram (very medical term) would show structural changes… just like it would after several months of AA or NA meetings (granted – maybe different looking in that different parts are being activated – but visibly altered in both situations nonetheless). Whatever you repeat, you become better at – whether it’s laudable or loathsome. You are your habits. But you can change your habits. Thus, you can change who you are.

And that’s because of the nature of neuroplasticity.

If you repeat taking drugs and drinking, you get very skilled at exactly that (until your neurological system fails you and you get the shakes while try’na fill your goblet, of course). Do you wanna get better at remaining clean? Then you stay clean one day at a time. And if you wanna get better at remaining clean without resenting it, life, and everyone in it? Then you stay clean, one day at a time, hang around people who’ve been both sober and serene, and do what they do until all the little bridges in your brain link up just right and you realize you’re manifesting the same kinda life yourself. That may be one of the most important things to remember if you believe only what you see. It’s not just an idea, this neuroplasticity. It’s a physical thing happening in your head’s organ that you just can’t see ’cause you’re eyes can’t process what’s directly behind ’em (but you can look at plenty of other people’s MRI readouts to know it’s true).

And how long’s that take to accomplish? Well, there’s some argument about it. Some have claimed it takes as little as 21 days. Others say it takes at least 66. Some even claim it takes up to 200. Now, that’s a pretty wide range. But when it comes to a habit that had the help of actual chemicals changing your skull’s contents versus one generated by mere thoughts? Well, ain’t nobody got time to say they ain’t got time to invest in renovating that. Which is why you’ll hear “keep coming back” whether you’ve got 90 days or 90 years.

But there’s a reason they do key tag milestones for the first three you survive clean.

Science, bishes.