I’m thinking of anonymity in meetings, which can be tough for those of us who’ve been in recovery in the same town for a long time.  I so appreciate my home group – that sense of being known, of knowing others, of claiming my particular seat and knowing that others will be in their appointed places by the door, or over by the coffee pot. And sometimes, I want to be where nobody knows my name. Sometimes I want to be an anonymous (sober) drunk in the back of the room. Sometimes I want to share in a general way and not have my meeting friends try to put together the puzzle pieces.

And, I’ve essentially grown up in meetings. From someone who mostly shared intimacies when under the influence to a person who has learned to use meetings to take the power out of a given situation or emotion, I’ve grown accustomed to processing. For many years, I’d mainly share once I was firmly in the solution. These days, I often can’t help myself from sharing in a specific way. It depends on the matter at hand, and the level of safety I feel in a given group, but often, simply the act of sitting in the circle starts me crying as I feel the warm embrace of the"We," and hold still for perhaps the first time that day.

When life feels like it's coming at me from all sides, my inner sick Alanonic wants to skimp on self-care and go straight to frantic. I caffeinate, and move from awareness to action without the pause vital for the acceptance piece of the equation. My healthier self knows that I can't be there for anyone if I'm not there for myself. This week, what that meant was attending my morning meeting despite my "helper" self needing to get to work to atone for leaving early. It meant staying in rather than going to my usual nighttime group, recognizing the need for down time. It has meant being open to outside help, and asking my trusted others for support. And on Thursday, it will mean sitting in sacred circle for our annual candlelight women's Solstice meeting.

Our literature tells me that self-reliance will fail me every time. When I find myself moving in what I call "tuning fork" energy, I can take a deep breath of recognition that I'm in "I've got this" mode. The deep breath itself doesn't necessarily fix what's ailing me, but it does serve to bring my attention to my dis-ease. I've made a fear list, including self-centered fears, putting pen to paper as is suggested in the Big Book. Again, it isn't magic, but part of the process of slowing down.

Someone posted  this quote on Facebook - "On particularly rough days, I like to remind myself that my track record for getting through bad days so far is 100% and that's pretty good." Years ago, someone pointed out that everything he's been afraid of has already happened. I haven't fallen out of a burning airplane, but otherwise, that is true for me as well. Life feels hectic in the moment, not in the least aided and abetted by the holiday rush, which I don't participate in but can't help but feeling in the busy stores and increased traffic. One day at a time, I learn good news and not so good news. One day at a time, I show up for my family and friends (& they for me), as well as the people I work with. One day at a time, signs of the season remind me that there is a beginning, a middle and an end to all things. 

Today is the one year death anniversary of the person who facilitated me getting sober so long ago, despite all the crappy things I'd done to him. This darkest week of the calendar year also marks the very darkest time of my life, leading up to treatment and my recovery anniversary on January 3rd. I know that I am a sum of all that has gone on in my life - those current events that shake my soul as well as the sad and happy memories of times gone by. Remembering the totality of who I am, sitting here today at my desk, helps maintain some sense of perspective. I know I'm talking in circles, and more will be revealed to both you and me. Suffice to say, as my sponsor reminds me, today, all is well.

What is on your heart and mind during this dark lead in to the winter Solstice? Is this time of year filled with good cheer, melancholy, or a little of both? How will you participate in the "we" this week?