sharing

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.