Cancer. I hear the word and cringe. I’ve known people who have suffered the wrath of this relentless disease. Some have survived using prayers, surgeries, radiation, and chemo. Some survived one bout to suffer a miserable relapse (or even two or three relapses) years later.
I just wrote the following statement in my journal, and it caused me to burst into tears: “A male friend called me on Monday and asked me how my job search was going.”
Recently, I had a painful experience that knocked me down mentally (I did manage to keep my physical sobriety thanks to the support of God and SA) and showed me once again how cunning, baffling, and powerful this disease is.
Recently, I took my four-year-old daughter fishing. We arrived at the secret fishing hole and set off to find an unoccupied spot. As we followed the wooded path near the calm water, I noticed a man lying in the underbrush.
As I anticipated attending the 2007 Convention, I felt both excitement and fear. Excitement because the idea of meeting lots of new friends in recovery (including people I do service work with) sounded like great fun! But fear at the prospect of traveling to Maryland to meet these people, especially the men.
The 2007 International Convention in Maryland was the first large SA gathering I had attended. I didn’t know what to expect or whether I would feel comfortable being around more than 500 people who are as sick as I am. But I was greatly encouraged by the honesty and sincerity of the people I heard sharing their stories in the breakout sessions.
I just got back from the SA International Convention in Maryland and it was wonderful! But it didn’t start out that way.
When I first came to SA in June 2002, I was miserable and I was single. I didn’t want to be miserable, and I sure didn’t want to be single! My divorce had been finalized just two months before I came to SA, and I was jealous and upset that my newly ex-husband had gotten engaged before the divorce was final.
Why is Chapter Four of Alcoholics Anonymous (44) entitled “We Agnostics” instead of “Those Agnostics” even though some of us entered the program already believing in God? Today, I believe that I act like an agnostic or atheist whenever I turn away from God.
“Pick up trash,” one guy glared. “Donate to a shelter,” the old-timer shared.
