My Experience with Coincidence.

To me, it is no coincidence that I woke up at 6:35am, the committee rearing its ugly head and yelling at me to worry about friends and family. It's no coincidence that I got up and looked to see when the next meeting was before I went to try to go back to sleep, only to find that it started in half an hour right up the street. Nor was it a mistake that when I got there, there were only three other people in the room, and they were asking for someone to share about the literature. And while that committee in my brain starts talking about how my share wasn't good enough, and that I should never volunteer to share again, it was no mistake or accident that someone else started sharing about how they want relief from their disease and began to distract me from my own misery. I can relate to that feeling - that desire of relief has been me throughout the course of my sobriety.

This made me realize, the only relief I can get is from this program, from sharing, from talking to another group of individuals that have the crazy committee making them feel like less of a person and who want relief. Most people don't want that relief -- they want to stay with what's comfortable, whatever it is. That comfort can come in many forms -- gossip, weed, other people, dishonesty, control issues, clothing, blogging, caffeine, anger, food, yoga, running, the list can continue. The thing is that most of the time, one thing or another will cease granting that relief. And then we're back at square one, lost and uncomfortable until we find another pacifier to stick in our mouths.

Lately, I have found myself to be using caffeine as a pacifier. It's legal, readily available, makes me more alert, and deliciously tasty. What more could I want? Unfortunately, the drawbacks to me are a cessation of appetite, and a mind that also has become more alert and paranoid, armed and ready rattling off a list of my imperfections, fears and hatreds at any moment's notice. So now what? Well, I don't think it's much of a coincidence that I have some sort of infection in my excretory system. Obviously, something or someone, saw the damage I was doing to myself, emotionally, mentally and physically, and decided I needed to be in pain so I would quit the private funding of Starbucks and coffee houses in the greater Los Angeles area. Not to mention the rallying of the committee.

More than that, some force greater than myself saw that I needed to find relief in writing and meetings. This is very uncomfortable, quite jarring to myself, but I find serenity in the fact that that same jerk that robbed me of my daily fix also put people in my life that I can talk to. People who want to listen, and have been through this emotional acid burn of dealing with feelings. That force also managed to remind me of my writing ability, and the relief I get from that by reminding me through a song on the radio that sang "Come on and let it out". Truer words were never spoken. Thanks for letting me share, and remember that you are valued. Stay strong.