Senior in Sobriety

I don’t know exactly where or when it happened.  Don’t really care?  Of course, I do.  AA meetings have always had a Stepford feel to me.  Something beaten down into our souls.  So far in grained that the recourse, production and e\aesthics of it all are similar to a faded water-color painting.

How does one get over the hump?  How do you focus on something that is the same something as the something before.

For instance, today, I went to my home group.  Like the good recovering alcoholic/addict I am.  I listened not intently to Jim babble about the existentialism in his recovery.  Jeanie complained about her constant struggle with a higher power, even after 35 years.  Suzie reread from the Came to Believe book.  Re-emphasizing the same verbage we just heard.  And, finally, Roy coughed, spat, picked at his nose and pulled out a nasty example of a snot rag.

Focus Ruth!  That’s what I kept telling myself.  Keep your eye on the ball!  Don’t let up or it will all go down!

So, an hour after saying my usual assault of verbal AA redundant diarrhea and listening to others with the same affliction; I felt better.  I felt good.

Dare I say what has been said before me?  Keep coming back, fake it ’til you make it!