Last night, I celebrated my sobriety anniversary with some of my favorite people. My heart was very full to have so many of them in one room to mark the day with me.
In the group I travel in, we have a tradition of giving coins to mark anniversaries. They serve as a physical reminder of the progress we have made from our darkest days, and to me, they are more precious than gold.
Recently, a friend here in Alabama has been going through a job change and was looking for some professional help with her resume. I referred to a friend from Connecticut, where I got sober, that I knew through the program that is skilled in that area. Because of that connection, I have been reminded of two stories from when I lived in Connecticut.
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Story one: this man and I used to be part of a group called the Sobriety Squad, where we would go to local schools and share our stories of recovery to help those students know that recovery was possible if they found themselves in a troubled relationship with alcohol. He and I were the “old guard” of the group, and mostly served as moderators/emcees for the much younger and cooler speakers that were closer in age to the students.
One night, after having some ice cream with some friends, the waiter stopped me on my way out to thank me for bringing the group to his high school. He admitted that he had been struggling for a while and that seeing the young people that we brought to his school share their stories made him realize that sobriety was possible, even at 18.
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Story two: I used to faithfully attend a Saturday morning meeting, and afterwards, a group of us would go to the same local restaurant for breakfast. It was always a motley crew – young, old, male, female, professional, punk – and we were always cutting up and laughing. It was my favorite way to start a Saturday.
One morning, after a particularly rambunctious breakfast, one of the more refined women in the group leaned in and conspiratorially stage whispered, “Do you ever think the people wonder – who ARE these happy assholes?” She brought the house down – and the nickname stuck. Every Saturday morning, the HA breakfast crew took over Sally and Bob’s to chow down on challah French toast and share in a fellowship that wouldn’t have come together any other way.
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Because of that connection between the two of them, he was able to send one of his very special coins for her to pass on to me. I couldn’t help but choke up with gratitude for the effort he made to make sure it arrived and for the great memories it brought with it.
I’ve never even seen one like this before and love its design and message. I will carry it daily to remind me of the many incredible people that have been part of this up and down journey over the past 21 years. Life is far from perfect, but because of recovery, I have “found much of heaven and…been rocketed into a fourth dimension of life of which we had not even dreamed.”
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