Today marked a significant milestone in my journey. While I didn’t conquer a mountain or witness the end of days, I experienced a profound moment in Burlington, Vermont—I attended my first Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.
For the past six months of sobriety, I had avoided AA meetings, clinging to a myriad of justifications. “That’s not for me. I won’t enjoy it. Those are just alcoholics; I’m simply someone who decided to stop drinking. I can manage this on my own.” Sound familiar?
I was reminded of the fabrications that kept me trapped in my drinking cycle. My favorite? The belief that life would somehow be easier without the burden of hangovers. Yes, I told myself this more times than I can count. The list of rationalizations and lies I spun was as extensive as the distance around the Earth—24,902 miles, to be exact.
This morning, I met individuals who have navigated their own challenges to embrace a more authentic life. To be fair, my hesitance about attending this particular meeting—strongly recommended by a friend—stemmed from its early start time of 8 a.m. Typically, I’d be nestled in my pajamas, sipping coffee, with little energy due to Hashimoto’s disease. Yet somehow, today, I managed to rise at 7 a.m.
In an unexpected turn of events, I even decided to clean the toilets while my coffee brewed. With the caffeine kicking in, I ventured out, too groggy to overthink my decision or fabricate an excuse to retreat back to bed.
As authenticity flowed among the members during the hour-long session, I felt welcomed but not overwhelmed. I realized how drinking had fostered a culture of dishonesty in my life. I used writing as a reason to drink and my drinking as a rationale for writing—thinking, “I’ll get my creativity flowing tonight!”
Now, six months into recovery, I appreciate writing more than ever, and the end result is far more gratifying. Let me dispel another myth: Life isn’t a walk in the park without hangovers. It’s undeniably challenging, but now I confront those challenges with clarity and an open heart.
During the meeting, I uttered the words I vowed never to say: “Hello, my name is Clara, and I’m an alcoholic.” Surprisingly, it was far more difficult to suppress those words than to let them flow freely.
Listening to the shared struggles and laughter in the group reminded me of a “comedy of terrors.” Each story resonated, and with every shared experience, I recognized that I, too, was one of them.
By 9 a.m., I left with a blue chip representing my six months of sobriety. I had previously scoffed at those “silly” chips, yet I clutched that one like it was a cherished treasure on my way home.
Later in the day, I chose to share my AA experience with my 11-year-old son. He was both curious and relieved to hear about it. Then he bravely expressed how it felt when wine appeared to matter more than he did. This was difficult to hear, and even harder to write about. But because my love for him is boundless, I’m prepared to face that truth.
For more insights on this journey and others like it, check out this related post. It’s an excellent resource for anyone considering their path to recovery. And if you’re exploring home insemination options, reputable retailers like Make a Mom offer quality kits to support your journey. If you’re interested in fertility treatment, March of Dimes provides great information about pregnancy and home insemination.
Summary
In this reflective piece, Clara Jensen shares her transformative experience attending her first AA meeting after six months of sobriety. She confronts the lies that kept her in denial about her alcoholism and acknowledges the challenges of recovery. Through connection with others, she embraces authenticity and faces her past. The narrative emphasizes the importance of support, love, and honesty in healing.
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