The White Chip

I don't quite know when it happened, but sometime last summer I began dropping some of the AA meetings I had been attending regularly, and going to most if not all of the Monday-Friday meetings at 6:45am a few miles from my home. In April and May, new to AA, I attended lots of meetings throughout each week, and by June or July I had found the ones that seemed to fit me best. I averaged one or two meetings per day. I attended large meetings and small, and discovered that I preferred the smaller meetings. This is based strictly on personal preference; I've never been a fan of crowds. Others like the energy found in meetings with many in attendance. I guess this is similar to folks who choose a mega-church versus a church with a small congregation.

I am prone to bouts of insomnia. These spells used to drive me mad, but now I just accept them as a matter of course. Sometimes it helps to read in bed; other times I just get up and start puttering around the house. This quirk seems to be a characteristic that pops up on my mom's side of the family. My grandmother used to get up in the middle of the night to bake bread or cookies from time to time.

Because of this tendency, I missed an early meeting one Thursday. And again Friday. And the same thing happened Monday. By this time, my early morning meetings were my favorites, so I really wanted to get back to them. For me, it's a wonderful way to get my head straight to face the rest of the day.

A funny thing happened Tuesday morning. By then I was rested and back on a normal sleep cycle. I was up early and I was all gussied up (tee-shirt and shorts) for the 6:45 meeting.

And I was reluctant to go back.

I wanted to go, but I felt embarrassed about missing three meetings in a row. I usually arrived early to get coffee brewing and set things up for the meeting. I felt like I had let people down. I didn't delude myself into thinking that the meetings had suffered, but I was afraid that I'd stick out like a sore thumb.

I went back and people were happy to see me. The only questions asked came from a couple of people who just wanted to be sure that I was doing okay. They were happy to see me, and gave me big hugs. I made sure that some folks had my phone number, because they hadn't known how to reach me. I was back on track.

Afterwards, I reflected on how silly my apprehensions had been, and how dangerous. What if they had kept me from ever going back? As an alcoholic, I could teach a graduate course in making a mountain out of a molehill and a companion course called "The Universe Restructured: It All Revolves Around Me." This is the same line of thinking that causes me to think that complete strangers are going to notice a stubborn stain on my clothing from 100 yards away, instead of realizing that they probably won't notice me at all. They have their own worries and insecurities consuming their thoughts.

This little episode also brought appreciation for those brave souls who return to AA following a relapse. I hadn't even been drinking, and I had to lash myself into walking back in that Tuesday morning. I understood that these folks who picked up another white chip are the bravest people in the room at that moment in time. In their heads they may be saying "I fucked up," but they are surrounded by a room full of people who are simply saying "Welcome back."

Because each one of us knows "Tomorrow it could be me reaching out for another white chip."

(note: In AA there is a chip system that marks time in sobriety. In my area, the white chip is given to the drinker who wants to stop drinking just for that day. We take life one day at a time.)