sponsor

“HERE,” Paul said, shoving a young woman resembling a prettier version of Amy Farrah Fowler in front of me.

(Dead.F’ing.Ringer. Same looks. Same voice. Same smarter-than-me-ness. )

Paul meant well when he forcibly suggested I accept Amy (we’ll just call her that for now) as my sponsor.

But, really, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was ’cause she had over a year of clean time… or just ‘cause we were the only two white girls in the Tuesday night meeting. Not one to ignore my own paranoia, I was mildly suspicious of this quasi thoughtless, semi racist pairing. But, to be honest, it was more so because the past two sponsors I’d eyed in the rooms just didn’t click with me. Hope was waning. What was it I was looking for anyway? Was I really turned off by the others because they were smokers and I wasn’t? Or was it actually the fact that they were no shiz bishes – and I was afraid of being tough loved? Maybe it was that I wanted someone like the person who attracted me to the program in the first place – successful and joyful, with a tranquil manner. Not “struggling” through recovery – but gleaning the good from life as best they could because of their new program of living. Someone who tended to share some’a that “strength and hope” stuff on the heels of their more painful sharings.

Unfortunately, within the rooms, I was getting more of the pessimism.

Any “hope” was non-authentic, delivered in a coat of platitudes and regurgitated idioms so perfunctorily that they might’s well’ve been sighing as they said it. Even from the potential sponsors, I noticed this. Maybe I was being picky. I was definitely doing the whole “seeing differences versus similarities”. But, to my credit, if this was meant to be an “attraction not promotion” program, shouldn’t I gravitate toward a human I’d wanna emulate at least a little bit? Especially with respect to whoever’d be dishing out pearls of prudence to chuck at me – seeing as I’d be spending lotsa one on one time with them (and I turn into an energy-matching chameleon double fast). Admittedly, with Amy, her energy didn’t seem like a quality at the start. I immediately noticed how anxious she was. And I judged. Mostly because… I was the same damned way. And witnessing her nervousness was like observing some sorta parody of my own. Which made me feel self conscious. I didn’t like it. Then, by some cosmic grace, a few things dawned on me: 1.) I was stalling on finding the “right” sponsor ‘cause I didn’t want to start the step work. 2.) I was hesitating with Amy ‘cause she told it like it was. And 3.) As someone who’s spastic and manic half the time, myself, it suddenly became clear that mayhaps being around someone so painfully similar… might just help me get self-conscious enough to calm the fluff down. Hard as it is to allow yourself to be uncomfortable as you induce change, I’d exhausted all other options. The fact was: I sick enough of myself to change. By any means. Even shame.

But was Amy really right for me?

To confirm, I referred to the same search engine I used to use for my less admirable hobbies.

(Alright, dammit. Sometimes I still do.)

This time, however, it’d be the Do’s and Don’ts of recruiting a good guru for drugless living. And what I came to learn is that it’s a lot easier than I was making it out to be. It’s not exactly like hiring on an employee. No one’s signing a contract in blood to recovery coach you for the next decade. If half a step in, you wonder whether someone who still keeps around their old smack memorabilia mightn’t be best for you, then guess what? You can fire your sponsor. Divorced. 86’d. Splitsies. And then… you can find a new one. No one will begrudge you this because everyone knows that – when it comes to recovery – it’s alright to be a bit selfish. Because if we relapse, we’re likely to lose it all.Our loved ones. Our minds. Our lives. The stakes are too high and too wide to afford any room for butthurt.

With that in mind, I was able to sponsor audition a few peeps fearlessly and move on before determining that, yes, Paul’s intuition was mayhaps founded on more than some racial basis. Amy did seem the most appropriate candidate to shepherd me as we ascended the twelve tiered staircase (which I was told only culminates in returning to the first; a bit Escher-esque if you ask me, but as I said – I was open to anything at this point).

And how’d she fit the bill?

Well, among the Do’s and Don’ts I encountered, Amy checked out on the biggies:

1. DO choose someone with over a year of clean time.

(I didn’t get this at first until I started reading some Sci Am articles on how retraining the brain after drug-taking can be a lengthy process. Clean thinking, much less clean teaching, takes some time. It’s pretty tough to instruct sobriety how-to’s when your own feet are still draggin’ from the wagon you only just recently rejoined). Plus – someone not far enough away from active addiction could easily relapse – and take my arse down with ’em. It can happen to any of us addicts – no matter how many degrees we have or how much Sci Am we read.

2. DO choose someone you respect enough to follow their direction.

(Remembering, as I failed to initially do, that you’re probably not gonna find Eckhart Tolle sat there leading meetings. If you do, A.) send me your group’s time and address. And B.) he probably already has more sponsees than an NFL star’s got unknown children. So, instead’a looking for a human god, maybe settle for someone good.)

3. DO choose someone in an active relache with their sponsor

Your sponsor needs to have someone to go to too.

Espesh when you wear them down with your madness.

The way I did to poor Amy.

4. DO choose someone who goes to meetings frequently.

Why? ’cause it’s like an interactive church for ex-junkies. It reminds us not to be douchey. Which I inevitably turn into when I adhere to my own brain’s advice versus the stuff I get in a room where telling the truth is crucial. My sponsor always asked me during those first weeks, “Which meeting are you going to tonight?” If I hadn’t been planning on it – thinking I could wing a day on my own – the open ended inquiry helped me reconsider. Granted, part of me knew what she was doing and half wanted to reply “the chatroom one” or “none”. But then I remembered why I was here in the first place. Plus, I like to think it gave her a reason to keep going too – the fact that I did. Example setting is a powerful motivator – if a bit egoic.

5. DO choose someone with a working knowledge of the steps.

That just means they actually do their step work. If they don’t then they aren’t living up to the whole “choose someone you respect and will be willing to follow” thing. Amy’d already gone through hers once or twice by the time we met.

6. DO choose someone who makes themselves available.

That’s not to say they drop everything for you when you rapidfire text them from your hovel of early recovery. We’ve gotta be realistic. People with time under their belt’ll be back in the real world and busy. But, if they’re worth their weight as a sponsor, they’ll make time to talk through issues with you and set aside time for step work.

7. DO be open to criticism – but not abuse.

What Amy always did was start out by naming some of her own defects. It opened the door for me to expound on some of my own that maybe I was conveniently forgetting, had suppressed, or was just unwilling to utter out loud. We’re here to change. So why hide our defect corpses in our cognitive car trunks only to rot and putrefy and carry on (carrion?) with ruining our lives? A little openness to suggestion and willingness to relinquish the self-important ego was key for me in those starting stages. A painful, cringe educing effort – but worth it. And, if you’re not the type to open up easily, then at least don’t give up easily… when they’re honest with you and call you on your shiz.

8. DO keep the advice recovery specif.

Try to remember this is a spiritual program meant to keep you clean. Sure, you can discuss how issues of work or money are affecting your recovery (i.e. – by diminishing your practicing of the principles or making you wanna use) but a sponsor’s the 100% wrong source for advice on financial or employment matters themselves.

9. DO boundary set.

Anyone see that last season of Nurse Jackie? Where her sponsor went nutso on her and showed up at her job? Had I seen that episode before attending a f’real meeting, it might have just put me off going at all. Much less adopting one-on-one help. You see, a sponsor being honest with you about your shortcomings face to face is one thing. But if they begin infringing on your personal life, then it’s time to politely issue the pink slip and re-cast that role, my dear.

10. DO choose someone of a gender you’re least attracted to.

Difficult if you’re bi; but this is where we get honest with ourselves and say “Okay. I have zero sexual arousal around this human.” And then, if that changes? You do what I did with the ones that weren’t working out for other reasons. Dismiss ‘em. Kindly, preferably. Otherwise, that whole “13th step” thing’s bound to happen – which compromises recovery in the worst kinda way.

In the end, Amy ended up being a great sponsor.

She followed all’a that above etiquette, never infringed on my life, and was always there when I needed her.

And – as for her anxiousness? Well, the moment I showed up for step work (when I actually did it), it was like an aura of calm came over her. She was transformed. The shallow breathing and darting eyes disappeared, only to be supplanted by a sort of serenity I’ve felt myself after a good meeting, share, or passage digested from “Living Clean” (best of the NA books, IMHO). And that moment – when she knew she was out of her own tortured mind, helping another’s heal – made me realize a couple things. The first is how important compassionate, selfless service toward another can be in restoring our own sanity. And the other? That maybe all of those other sponsors I passed up without even “interviewing” may’ve have been great after all. Because if I’d dismissed Amy (the way I did the others) on the basis of how she was (almost) more antsy than I am… then I’d have missed out on a bomb azz recovery Yoda.

And, Amy, if you ever encounter this article… I hope you take the comparison as a compliment.

’cause I totes would.