Second night at AA. \u00a0I didn’t talk much this time beyond the obligatory “I’m Quinn and I’m an alcoholic”, “Hi, Bill”, “Thank you, Bill.”<\/p>\n
I\u00a0gave my number to a good looking guy, my age or (probably)\u00a0younger. \u00a0I am\u00a0regretting this. \u00a0It brings on the kind of anxiety I had when the ex-wife and I gave our number to a “friendly” waiter at Raj Mahal who turned out to be an Amway drone.<\/p>\n
That’s what AA reminds me of–\u00a0a cult. \u00a0Not in the Jonestown sense, but like any group who have\u00a0cultivated in their mind some shared way of life, but they’ve given up something for it. \u00a0They’ve given up their self, their skepticism, their suspicion. \u00a0That is not always a good thing. \u00a0Most\u00a0of the time, “surrendering” to a “power” (higher or lower) is a very, very bad thing. \u00a0 \u00a0There’s a reason we’re cautious around strangers, and that reason<\/strong> (logic) was borne of countless generations of evolution and experience<\/p>\n A few people got their “coins” or “badges” or whatever awards they give. \u00a0Not as many hot women there tonight, which is probably why I described the guy above as “good looking”. \u00a0There is one that’s cute, and she made a cackling crack in response to someone else innocently mentioning “nuts”– that she hadn’t had nuts in a long time.<\/p>\n I’m not there to date.<\/p>\n Er, or fuck.<\/p>\n I wonder if I’d be as “easy” sober. \u00a0 Probably, and maybe sex-addict support groups would be more entertaining.<\/p>\n Speaking of entertainment– AA meetings\u00a0don’t seem to have much. \u00a0 Some bad jokes are cracked and left to rot in the\u00a0air of polite chuckles. \u00a0 Occasionally someone will be a little clever. \u00a0Most of the time, it’s like a bad Henry Rollins “spoken word”\u00a0show. \u00a0 Well, a worse one, because those are pretty bad. \u00a0It’s like church as I remember and revile it from childhood, but instead of one man preaching, it’s the entire\u00a0congregation\u00a0testifying and genuflecting to the “Higher Power”, and telling everyone that if they don’t do that, they just ain’t gonna make it.<\/p>\n There’s no cross-talk. \u00a0If someone wants to talk, they gotta jump in right after the “Thank you, Bill” with their “I’mCarlAndI’mAnAlcoholic”, ignore the others whose similar interjection\u00a0waned into a tired “Hi, Carl” and start going off on their–<\/p>\n Their stories. \u00a0 Maybe my rant last night wasn’t as coherent and sublimely intelligent and borderline sexy-crazy as I’d thought it was, but it had to have been different, at least. \u00a0Someone must have appreciated.<\/p>\n I’m not there to practice stand-up, either, so let’s get on with tonight’s bit of words.<\/p>\n I was held up by the hot guy– I wanted to make the “SOS” meeting. \u00a0It was at 7:30 down Main St, a couple miles away. \u00a0“SOS” is “Secular Organizations for Sobriety” or “Save Our Selves”. \u00a0 It’s a support group affiliated with\u00a0the guys who brought us Skeptical Inquirer– the Center for Inquiry here in Amherst. \u00a0In that big list of self-help groups, this was the one I wanted to go to, but the AA was nearer and sooner, and I really just needed to be somewhere besides home wanting to drink. \u00a0 More on wanting a drink later.<\/p>\n The SOS meeting was at a Unitarian Universalist church. \u00a0 The ex-wife and I had went\u00a0there once for a secular Yule-tide celebration. \u00a0It bothered me– maybe more than a “normal” church. \u00a0 Humanists. \u00a0They want “God Lite”. \u00a0They believe in the value of every person. \u00a0You’ll meet\u00a0the most credulous skeptics\u00a0there, and they’ll give you coffee and cookies and nod and smile and relate stories of their own “Higher Powers”.<\/p>\n So, it’s church.<\/p>\n SOS isn’t church. \u00a0This meeting\u00a0just happened to be held in one. \u00a0The drive and front parking\u00a0was nigh empty and I couldn’t see any lights inside, so I went around back, did a few donuts in the snow-covered back lot, and decided I might as well go home.<\/p>\n On the way out, I saw a few of the cars alongside the drive, some with lights on, and I figured someone<\/em> must be going there for something<\/em>. \u00a0So, I pulled in, went to the door, followed the others to a room smaller than my own living room, took a chair, and in a few minutes we were all just talking, openly, with some cross-talk, but respectful and obliging.<\/p>\n It started out kinda quiet. \u00a0 Someone said the ol’ “You could hear a pin drop.” \u00a0Right after the full-stop in that statement I blurted, “I just got back from an AA meeting.”<\/p>\n This was a good crowd of people. \u00a0 A friendly hipster musician dude seemed to be herding the discussion with a mild hand. \u00a0There was\u00a0a guy who was kind of a cross between Sam Kinison and Ben Stein. \u00a0A big guy who’d been through it all. \u00a0A guy who looked like a suburban neighbor. \u00a0A woman who’d literally drunk herself to death’s threshold– twice.<\/p>\n This was communion. \u00a0This was fellowship– with goodfellas.<\/p>\n There wasn’t a one of them I didn’t like. \u00a0Everyone was open and honest and went straight out with the worst of themselves– because they knew everyone else would understand. \u00a0Yeah, we’re all drunks. \u00a0We may not be drinking, but we’re all drunks.<\/p>\n I’m gonna wind this down, because I’m tired– and that’s the point of these meetings and my writings. \u00a0Exhaust myself so I don’t have time to think about that existential maw\u00a0that yawns for me.<\/p>\n On wanting a drink– in the first half of tonight’s\u00a0AA, someone asked if anyone in the room wanted a drink right now. \u00a0He wasn’t offering one– he just wanted a show of thirsty hands. \u00a0 I didn’t raise mine.<\/p>\n I really didn’t want a drink.<\/p>\n That confused me, then frustrated me. \u00a0If I didn’t want a drink, why am I here? \u00a0Why am I doing this? \u00a0It seemed the answer was because the state was going to make me do it eventually– that drinking isn’t really a problem in itself but an enabler of bad choices. \u00a0I wasn’t thinking of going back to drinking– the train of thought was put in motion by not<\/em> wanting to drink.<\/p>\n I was just wondering why I was here. \u00a0In that room, at first, and then back to “here” as in “life”, and the rest of the meeting had me gritting my teeth with my arms folded and giving in to facial ticks. \u00a0Frustration.<\/p>\n That’s always going to be with me, right? \u00a0 I keep telling these people– I wasn’t “happy” before<\/em> I started drinking heavily. \u00a0Drinking didn’t destroy my marriage. \u00a0Drinking didn’t make me more<\/em> depressed. \u00a0 On the contrary– drinking facilitated my being more social. \u00a0It gave me a lot of stories. \u00a0It made me a lot of friends. \u00a0I experienced things I wouldn’t have otherwise.<\/p>\n It also put me in a mental hospital twice and jail a few times.<\/p>\n Maybe what I’m asking is, “Am I an alcoholic?”<\/p>\n Maybe the answer is “Does it matter?”<\/p>\n Drinking has resulted in some poor decisions that could have cost me my freedom– and still could. \u00a0I’ve got two girls who need me, and I can’t risk indulging anything that would lubricate that slide into Hell.<\/p>\n I’m\u00a0not going to do it anymore.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Second night at AA. \u00a0I didn’t talk much this time beyond the obligatory “I’m Quinn and I’m an alcoholic”, “Hi, Bill”, “Thank you, Bill.” I\u00a0gave my number to a good looking guy, my age or (probably)\u00a0younger. \u00a0I am\u00a0regretting this. \u00a0It brings on the kind of anxiety I had when the ex-wife and I gave our […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[14],"tags":[64,3,38,89],"class_list":["post-525","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-me","tag-alcoholism","tag-depression","tag-existentialism","tag-raw"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/fazigu.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/525","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/fazigu.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/fazigu.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/fazigu.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/fazigu.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=525"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/fazigu.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/525\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":526,"href":"https:\/\/fazigu.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/525\/revisions\/526"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/fazigu.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=525"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/fazigu.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=525"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/fazigu.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=525"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}