support group

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?