Told you so
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The divided self exists in all of us.
--Marie Lindquist
One gift of sobriety is the growing awareness that we are complex, whole individuals, more than just our dark side. Defeated, we came into this program of recovery certain that our lives would be forever fraught with problems. Little in our experience made us proud. Surviving our hateful, painful, and confusing lives was our proudest achievement.
~ An excerpt from Today's Gift, a recovery email from Hazelden
Receiving this email today was my Higher Power gently validating me.
I had an experience last night at a new AA meeting and became aware of the ways in which I judge others and how this is a reflection of how I am feeling about me, always. In kabbalistic speak, when a judgment arises about self, it's referred to as a "Klipah" . We have a practice when we allow these judgments to arise and live and then we bring light to them, softening toward ourselves. It's called "Returning the Klipot".
My judgments last night began shortly after I entered the meeting room. I was comforted at first by the fact that I saw my "guy" sponsor and had a sense of security with him in the room. I was very aware as I looked around that there was a "feel" to the room that the folks in here had lived a very very hard life and it was evident on their outsides -- gruff faces, bad tattoos, smoker's hacks, mouths freely dropping the f-bombs.
I found a chair and tried to settle in and knew at this point that I had discomfort, unease. A minute before the meeting started, a woman dressed very promiscuously with chest cleavage literally busting out, adorned in layers of silver chains sat next to me. It wasn't long before I could smell the beer on her breath. It wasn't leftover or stale, it was newly consumed. I quickly judged her for being here, violating me with her alcohol fumes. I became aware of that feeling in me, and as I took in the words of the reading of "How it works", I was reminded that the only requirement for this woman or any of us was a desire to stop drinking. And I softened toward her, recognizing that she had the guts to get herself here and that she wasn't ready just yet.
And then the speaker began her story. She had the tough, "don't-fuck-with-me" biker chick look. She identified as an addict and alcoholic and proceeded to tell most of her story from the viewpoint of an addict, using the words "high", "gettin clean", "drugs" a lot in her story. I began to tune her out. I got resentful. I was judging her for not respecting the "rules" of a closed AA meeting which states "keep your stories and shares to your problems with alcohol." And she wasn't following the rules. I didn't give a crap if she smoked crack. Tell me about how alcohol affected you. And, I let this come into my awareness. How I judged her. And how I was missing the essence of her story. And the fact that she wouldn't be here if alcohol didn't affect her in some way.
I became aware in this moment (and a later conversation with a trusted fellow traveler of recovery rooms confirmed this) that I was feeling extremely uncomfortable and out of place. I was separating myself, just like I did in the early days of AA. "I don't belong with THESE people". It is about my own fears and judgments and "isms" about being JUST LIKE every person in this room. I too lived a rough life. I had a dark side. I came into recovery overweight, bloated, and lookin worn. My skin was ruddy and my eyes even duller. The fingers I was pointing at all of these folks in this room were really pointing back at me. I am aware in this very moment of writing that I still experience the sting of the stigma of being an alcoholic. A judgment about having been a coward. Weak. Unable to control myself. It's this very "stinkin-thinkin" that brings each of us into the rooms and head-first into Step 1 : admitting our powerlessness over alcohol and that our lives have become unmanageable. Just because I have a lot of years of not consuming the booze and have cleaned myself up on the outside doesn't mean I don't belong in the seat next to the woman who still has beer on her breath. We are in the rooms for the same reason. I'm no better than her, yet my judgments would have me believing so because the truth is -- I'm terrified of being the person I was that she so vividly reminds me of and I keep coming back so I that I never return to that way of life again.
I made it a point on the break after the speaker's story to introduce myself to others. I went outside amid the smokers and struck up a conversation wtih a fella who had a deformed hand from an accident and we admired the nearly full moon, both recognizing Jupiter's presence in the clear night sky as well. I walked back into that meeting with a softening in my heart toward the members in the room and more so toward myself. I could take in the rich sharing and even got my own hand up.
I go to meetings so that I can stay sober, period. And each person in that room has a chair that is just for them. Regardless of appearance or the kind of life they lived or the state that they arrive in. We each want a different way of life than the one we were barely surviving when alcohol was in the driver's seat. Last night, I came to a place of recognizing and accepting my character defect of judging out of fear. And the fingers that were extended and pointing at others and myself were re-coiled, then joined with those of my fellow members as we said the Serenity Prayer. The fear subsided. The Klipot returned. And I drove home basking in the glow of the moon and my own forgiving light.
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