The Back-Breaking Garbage Bag of Low Self-Esteem – Don H.

Chapter 36, For He's a Jolly Good Fellow Saturday night couldn't come fast enough. If you had told Brian nine months earlier how excited he would be to have someone hand him an aluminum slug with an A.A. slogan on it, he would have laughed in your face. When Saturday night arrived, Brian first went to Rob's house. Then together they walked to the meeting. Gord met them at the door. It was his job to greet new people when they arrived. The task was assigned to Gord, but there were really about four people standing there doing the same thing. It was not a chore, but a delight for most of them. To understand how important a greeter can be, you have to understand the social circumstances of most drunks. Aberrant drinkers drink too much too often, embarrassing those around them and becoming a pariah in the process. Knowing they are considered undesirable because of their own behavior adds an additional layer of guilt to their self-image. By the time chronic alcoholics reach the doors of Alcoholics Anonymous, most have developed an acute sense of unworthiness in polite society. Many newcomers will arrive at the last possible moment for a meeting and leave the instant it is over. This behavior is common, and it is a mechanism to avoid social interaction. Some will claim, in their first few meetings, I'm not like these people. I still have my job and my family. I'm not drinking out of a brown bag harassing people for change on the street corner. They believe every word of it, but the mere fact that they utter such phrases highlights their contempt for what they perceive as alcoholics. They are among their equals, but they don't see it yet. The others who come late and leave early may do so because their self-esteem is so low that they do not feel they fit in the company of other people, alcoholics or otherwise. They have been ostracized, either subtly or outright by those for whom they have respect. As such, they don't feel worthy of polite company. For both types of newcomers, the solution is the same. Get to know them. Don't just open the door for them to walk in. Usher them in with open arms. It's not enough to smile and wave as they walk in They need more than that to feel at home, enough to want to stay. For the first bunch, it is important to explode their misconceptions about AA people. They enter the rooms expecting to see every one of the worst stereotypes they can imagine about alcoholics. This is not a community of equals as they see it. It is more of a trip to the zoo to see how the other half lives. As such, it's critical for them to see that people with long-term sobriety are not just healthy, happy, and paper-trained, but many have become pillars of the local community. Denials of one's disease can take many forms and self-justification is one of the most common. Oh, I couldn't be an alcoholic. I haven't lost this yet and I haven'T done that yet. However, the longer they drink the more they have to lower the bar of things they haven'T been done to allow them to enjoy a sense of superiority. This is their manifestation of denial Meanwhile, they know what they have done and what they are about to lose if their behavior persists. The best way to circumvent the barriers erected by denial is by making them feel like part of the group. AA people are healthy, happy, and vibrant. They are full of life and radiate the joy of living. It is exposure to the true nature of AA people that becomes the best antidote to the skepticism and justifications for continuing to deny their disease. The greeter is, perhaps, even more important for the second group. They are the ones who fear that they are not worthy of any human love and kindness. They say to themselves, Oh sure, you're like me now, but wait until you find out what I'm really like. You won't want me around then. You'll kick me to the curb just like everyone else has. It's what I deserve. Such people neither expect nor feel they deserve the acceptance of the group. They are solely focused on their own wrongdoings and the wreckage of the past. They carry a back-breaking garbage bag of guilt, remorse, and low self-esteem. It takes them a long time to understand and appreciate that the people welcoming them are genuinely happy to see them. They are the first to stop attending meetings if they are allowed to enter late and leave early without being welcomed and embraced by the group. They are frightened by human interaction because they know all too well that most such interactions end badly for them. It is incumbent upon the members of the group not just to put on coffee and set out the chairs, but to actively engage with them and help them feel like they belong. Greeters are not always gregarious by nature. In fact, one of the quickest ways for the group members to pick someone to be a greeter is for them to show them some reticence to engage after several months of regular attendance. It is important to note that there are two times when an AA member is in danger of going back out and drinking. The first few days of their sobriety and all the rest of the time, people with long-term sobriete know the danger increases with social isolation. When a member engages but then begins to withdraw, it becomes clear that they need someone to throw them a rope. For people with just a few months of sobriety, being a greeter can make all the difference. They don't take to it naturally at first, but after just a couple of weeks, it provides them with a sense of belonging as they get to know everyone's name and establish a banter with the regulars. Then one day it happens. Some new person walks through the door with that haunted expression on their face and the new greeter recognizes a kindred spirit For the first time, they see the pain in someone else's eyes. And only then do they realize how far they have come. They also want more than anything to share with this new person the love and respect that they have been shown. These are the reasons why being a greeter is far more a pleasure than a chore. As always with AA, it is the personal touch that makes all the difference. Ward grabbed Brian by the hand and clapped him on the shoulder. Congratulations, birthday boy. It's only nine months, Gord, Brian said. You can call me the birthday boy when I get a year. Oh, you've had a change of heart, have you? Gord laughed. You're going to stick around after all. You've already made plans for your first anniversary. Excellent! Excellent! Both Diesel and Willie were already inside. Several people were standing around the coffee table and one guy was telling a joke. Rob grabbed as usual, but Brian decided to pass on the coffee. He was already excited to be there. Getting further juiced up on coffee would keep him awake all night. He went to the middle of the room. This was a big group. They would routinely have upwards of 60 people in attendance for a birthday meeting. This evening was just such a meeting. There were two group members celebrating annual anniversaries. That numbered in the years of sobriety. But none of that mattered to Brian. His focus was on that nine-month chip and all the hard work he had done to attain it. Rob came back and sat down next to Brian, just as Marge gaveled the meeting to order. Good evening, everyone. I'm Marge. I used to be a heavy drinker, and now I'm just heavy. The room responded in unison. Hi, Marge! Welcome to the Saturday night meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous. If you are new to our group, welcome. Keep coming back. If you're new to AA and this is your first meeting, then I offer you a special welcome. You're the most important person in the room. Be sure to stick around after the meeting and get some phone numbers before you leave. I'd like to open the meeting with a moment of silence for the still-suffering alcoholic, followed by the serenity prayer. Can we have that moment now, please? The meeting proceeded like clockwork through the readings of how it works, the 12 steps, and the 12 traditions of AA. Then Marge asked Rob to go to the front of the room. She handed him a small rectangular block of wood with holes drilled in it. Each hole contained a stack of multicolored chips. Rob began, I'm Rob, and I am an alcoholic. This yielded the predictable response from the group. First, I would like to congratulate Sharon, who is a member of this group and celebrating four years of sobriety this month. The room applauded. Sharon, I remember your very first meeting like it was yesterday. Gord greeted you at the door, yet you didn't run away. He beamed to that one, and the group members snickered a bit. But seriously, I've watched you grow over the last four years, and I'm both proud and happy to see you here tonight with your family. I'd also like to congratulate my good friend Crazy Bill. Where are you, Bill? Bill raised his hand in the back of the room and there was more applause. Who knew 25 years ago that you would be sitting here tonight sober as a judge? I've got 26 years, Rob, said Crazy Bill. I know, Rob replied, but I didn't count the first year because you were barely human and prone to uttering death threats whenever I opened my mouth. Perhaps if I followed through during the first year you'd be less of a smartass today, Rob. Perhaps, perhaps not, he smiled. Congratulations, my friend. I'm glad to see you here tonight. Rob got back down to business. This group uses a chip system to acknowledge various lengths of sobriety. These chips are not a reward but a reminder of who we are and what we've accomplished. As I announce various lengths of sobrietty, please come to the front of the room and grab a chip if you want one. We'll start with one month Anybody got one month of sobriety? There was some shuffling near the back of the room, and pleasantly a young guy walked to where Rob was standing. Rob reached out with his right hand to shake while pressing the chip into the newcomer's left. There was a thunderous applause as the embarrassed young man turned to face the group. He walked back through an opening in the chairs toward the backof the room. But people kept stopping him to shake his hand. Each old-timer who shook his hand had a chip of his own, and they would rub the young man's chip with theirs, presumably to rub some of their sobriety off onto him. It was not a common AA custom, but this was one group where they did it. It took the poor guy a couple of minutes to get out of the limelight and back to his seat. Rob continued. Three months? Anyone with three months of sobriete come on up. There were no takers. Six months? Anybody with six months? Nobody moved. Then he held up the nine-month chip. Anybody with nine months? Brian rose to his feet and approached Rob, who was beaming. When he got within range, Rob leaned in, bypassed his hands entirely, and wrapped him in a big bear hug. As he did so, he whispered in Brian's ear, Now the work begins. Rob handed him his chip, shook his hand, and turned him around. Brian was holding the chip in his hands and staring down at it. He flashed on all that he had done to earn it, and he felt pretty good about himself. The group applauded loudly as he looked up. Then he saw them. All the way in the back row sat Tommy and Rose. Tommy wasn't really sure what to make of it all, but he knew that everyone in the room was clapping for his father. That was enough for him. Caught up in the moment, he was clapping his hands with exuberance and grinning from ear to ear. He had never had many opportunities to feel proud to be Brian's son, so he wasn't about to squander this one. Meanwhile, Rose was wiping one cheek with a handkerchief, but she too was smiling back at Brian. His face flushed instantly and there were no words to describe the feeling. He stood for a moment before Rob leaned in. Go back to your seat now. You can talk to her afterwards. The rest of the meeting was a blur. Both Diesel and Willie congratulated him and rubbed his chip with theirs as he stumbled past. He registered that Rob had handed out a 24-hour chip for a lady who was just coming back after several months of meetings and a slip that cost her a driver's license. There was a man who spoke for some time, and then they said the Lord's Prayer. The whole time, Brian was ignoring the proceedings and focusing on the two people he could not see behind him but knew were there for him. By the end of the meeting, he finally put a name to the notion that filled him with warmth. It was gratitude. Not by a long shot did he expect to see Rose and Tommy at the meeting. But seeing them gave him hope and filled him with a sense of purpose. Once the meeting ended, he turned on his heel and bolted for the back of the room. At mid-flight, he was suddenly taken aback. He realized that he had not spoken to Tommy since the day they took him away. Suddenly, he was in no great hurry to get to them. However, it mattered little. Tommy was in a hurry to go to the hospital. He had to get back to him. Dad, how have you been? I haven't seen you in forever. You look different. You are smaller. Do you have cancer? The last question puzzled him. But otherwise, he followed Tommy's flow. He knelt on one knee to look Tommy directly in the eye. No, Tommy, I don't have cancer. I didn't lose the weight because I'm getting sick. I lost the weight because I'm getting well. There are a lot of things I want to tell you, but we don't need to go into all that right now. I'm really glad you and your mom are here. It's great to see you, son. Yeah, Dad, so why are we here? And what was the point of the chip thing? Why do you get a chip at nine months? Brian smiled at this. Rose hadn't told him anything about his father over the last nine months. They had some catching up to do. Tommy, the chip is for nine months of continuous sobriety I haven't had a drink since the last time you saw me I joined Alcoholics Anonymous And I'm learning to live life without the booze Jeez, Dad You once told me that booze was what kept you alive You would die without it What happened? What happened was that I had a choice Lose the boozes or lose you and your mom It was no choice at all You two come first, even before booze A hand touched Tommy's shoulder. Rose had been standing behind him, listening to the conversation. He looked up at her and she told him, You see that table with all the people over there? If you hurry up, they have a big piece of cake for you. But don't dawdle. It's going fast. Tommy threw a quick glance at Rose and Brian and then charged to the cake table. Brian stood up and looked into Rose's eyes. Thanks for coming, he said. You know, you didn't have to, but I'm so glad to see you here. Brian, the last time we spoke, I told you I wouldn't leave you twisting in the wind about our future. I had come to see for myself what this was all about. These people are incredible and this, all of this is awesome. I'm so happy for you. I've never seen you look so alive and so much at peace. I am very proud of you. I really never thought you could be the person you've become. Well, I'm becoming, he replied. This isn't it. I have a lot more to do and I'm really trying to change. I see that, she said. I also have to tell you I'm not going to spend one more month with my sister. I love her, but I can't live with her. It's true what they say. If living at home was so great, nobody would ever leave. Well, I'm leaving. I have my own home and I am going to return to it. Brian lit up like a Christmas tree. You're coming home? Wait, do I get to stay? He asked with great concern. Of course you get to stay, you big dope. We're going to try this again. Let's hope it works this time. I can't go back to where we were, Brian. If I ever have to leave again, that will be it. Agreed, he replied. Then he wrapped her in his arms with a passion the two had not felt for many years. She pushed him off and her cheeks were bright red. Easy, Tiger. We're in a room full of strangers and I'm not able to come home tonight. It'll be a few days while I sort everything out with my sister. But do hold that thought. Hold that thought he did. They chatted for a few more minutes until Tommy returned, cake in one hand, donut in the other, and a cookie in his pocket. Your sister still can't bake with a damn, can she? Brian asked. Oh God, it's awful. Rose smiled. Next time we have another eating meeting. I'll be sure to bring Tommy some dessert. Then he looked into her eyes, knowing that this moment would soon pass. Rose, of all the things that drinking has cost me over the years, none of them were enough to make me stop. But when I saw the look on your faces as they loaded me into the squad car nine months ago, I knew something had to change. When you said you were leaving, I was devastated. But I also knew it was the right thing for you to do. I want to tell you how sorry I am for all the pain I've caused you. But it would just ring hollow. I have told you that I was sorry a million times before. Rob tells me I have to be my best because I may be the only copy of the big book that some poor schnook ever sees. Going forward, that is what I want you to see. I want your name on it. I want to see Brian instead of Shimmy. Rose's lips were pursed. She was holding back tears at what she was hearing. Finally, she was able to respond. From the day we met to this very moment, I've always seen my Brian. But for a few years there, I had to dig through several pounds of shimmy to get to him. I hope I never have to do that again. Tommy had finished his cake and was scanning the table to see where the next round was coming from. Rose divined his intention and took him by the hand. You've had quite enough cake, mister. I need to get you out of here before you're bouncing off the ceiling. They said their goodbyes and left the meeting. Brian walked them out with a feeling of love, gratitude, and sadness that they would not come home tonight. But he decided that last one was just him being selfish. There you go, he heard Willie say as he handed him a paper plate. I saved you some cake if you're a good boy. This is the last time you'll ever have to pick up a nine-month chip. Knowing that makes the cake taste sweeter, don't you think?