Let's Go, Jane!

I attended my first AA meeting the other day. Not because I’m struggling with alcohol addiction, thankfully, but because I’m taking a class this semester called Social Work Practice with Substance Use Disorders, and one of our first assignments is to attend a meeting and report back on the experience.

It was fairly easy to find one, there’s a Presbyterian church a mile and a half away that offers open meetings seven days a week. I marked my calendar for the following Saturday morning, and then it came and went, because I chickened out. I was nervous about going. It felt invasive to sit in a room full of strangers bearing their souls while I just observed.

The second Saturday arrived and I was determined to go. I wanted to attend a meeting before hearing about any of my classmates’ experiences, so I could go in without expectations. Halfway to the church I got into a car accident. Someone hit me. Luckily she took full responsibility and her insurance is covering the damage. I made it the rest of the way to the church, parked in the back, and went in through the back entrance, feeling self conscious and a little shaken.

The meeting room had seating for about 60, with roughly half the seats filled, mostly by men. I sat in a chair along the wall. A woman in the front did a reading, and then someone turned the lights out and we sat in silence for 10 minutes. It was odd, but strangely peaceful to sit there, in the dark, with a room full of strangers. This meeting, it turned out, was focused on the 11th step, on the role of prayer and meditation in recovery. I’ve since learned that there are all different kinds of meetings, step meetings, big book meetings, others with speakers or discussion topics.

After the silent period, the woman in the front made a personal statement about what prayer and meditation mean to her. She talked about how she had found God in silence, and how she’d learned to forgive the people in her life for not being who she wanted them to be. Then we went around the room so each person could take up to two minutes to respond. When my turn came I just said my name and thanked everyone for allowing me to be there. I found myself getting choked up, imagining what it would have felt like to be there because I was coming to terms with an addiction.

What struck me most during this experience was walking into this room of complete strangers and feeling so welcome. From the man who directed me to the right room by saying warmly, “You are here,” to the woman who turned to me at the end and asked kindly, “Are you just coming in?” this was a room full of people who support each other, who accept each other as they are. Who cheer for each other’s milestones and pick each other up after slip ups. Even as an observer, I could feel the acceptance and unconditional care in that room. It was wonderful to experience. I truly wish there were more communities like that in this world, ones that didn’t require hitting rock bottom (or a grad school assignment) to find.