THERE IS NO other place I’d rather not be than here right now. The four walls that surround me are covered in various posters for everything from the upcoming Strawberry Festival to the street sweeping schedule, and a scattered collection of educational posters geared toward kids. This room doubles as the library’s community room and the children’s wing. I spent hours in this room as a child. I’d find one of the bean bags in the reading nook and curl up with the latest Babysitter’s Club book. Back then, I had no idea they held meetings like this here.
Alcoholics Anonymous.
I move into the room slowly, trying to keep behind a couple that enters just before me. They’re practically crazy-glued to each other’s side. There’s the faint scent of tequila that emanates from one or both of them, I can’t tell. A man rushes past me and hops into one of the last empty seats that form a tight circle in the corner of the room. His short brown hair is a mess, like he’s been pulling at it all day, his shirt is haphazardly buttoned, and his tie has been yanked loose in an apparent frenzy. This is supposed to be a safe place, but nobody ever really feels safe here. Exposed, vulnerable, lacking… sure. But safe? No. At least I don’t.
A few chairs down from the disheveled man sits Mindy. Her strawberry blonde hair is up in a messy bun. She’s rocking black yoga pants, an exercise top, and sneakers, like she’s the poster child for inner peace or something. In reality, I’m pretty sure she thinks downward dog is some kind of sex position, but hey, she looks comfortable. She gives me a wave and pats the empty seat next to her.
Kindness, I remind myself. I need to work on being kind. It’s number ten of the twelve steps to recovery: admitting when you’re wrong. I may not have drank the Kool-Aid, but even I can see the value in taking personal inventory, and that’s part of the reason I showed up tonight. I’m not an alcoholic. According to my former therapist, I’m a martyr whose poor decisions are triggered by the unrealistic expectations I put on myself. We can call it whatever we want. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m being dragged to a meeting that I don’t need, nor do I want. But Mindy both needs and wants it, and if me being here can help her, I’ll do it. Even if I want to claw my own eyeballs out in the process.
The couple in front of me grabs chairs from a stack in the corner. The circle is basically full now as the couple wiggles in between other attendees. I squeeze through at the other end and sit down in the seat Mindy’s saved for me without meeting anyone’s eyes.
“Thank you for coming,” she says. I nod—keeping quiet is for the best. I wouldn’t even be here if not for her insistence. She used to be fun, but that led to her being too much fun. And the downfall was anything but. That’s how I’ve ended up here. All the therapy in the world hasn’t taught me how to say “no” to her. Meetings like this actually do me more harm than good, and my real problem isn’t booze, but family. Just being in this room confirms my absolute worst fear: that I’m a failure.
I couldn’t save Mindy; I couldn’t save myself. I couldn’t make my parents proud— I couldn’t even tell them the truth about why I’d failed them. It doesn’t matter that every person in this room is struggling with these feelings and their own demons. That’s the thing about insecurities. Nobody else’s problems can lessen your own.
The meeting gets underway like they always do. Nothing special happens. The speaker identifies herself as an alcoholic right off the bat, like they encourage all alcoholics to do. There is no shame here, they say. Mindy nods beside me, and her voice is reverent as she recites the Serenity Prayer. It’s all God grant me this, and God grant me that, like it was God who put the bottle to their lips.
“Do we have anyone here who is new to A.A.? Anyone who’s in their first 30 days of sobriety? We don’t want to embarrass anyone. We just want to get to know you, and we believe that a fundamental part of your recovery is taking that first step and admitting that you are powerless over alcohol,” the speaker says.