Not that there is anything wrong with AA meetings. I think they are a great thing, for lots of people, and on occasion I’ve thought of checking them out myself. Usually after a particularly allergic reaction to red wine.
So don’t get me wrong. I just wasn’t prepared to go to one last night. I thought I was going to a Buddhist sangha at the Zen Center.
To be fair, it was called “Sangha for Recovery”. So that should have been my tipoff. I thought it sounded quite nice, particularly because I’ve been wanting to check out the Zen Center for ages (and their 8:30am Saturday intro session is just never going to happen, sorry). I happen to be going through a no-cocktails phase. So it seemed like a natural fit.
And it was… at least for the first thirty-minute innocuous meditation sit. I really like to meditate. For those of you that know anything about the enneagram, I have a strong 7 wing that allows my mind to stay entertained pretty easily without any external stimulation. The hardest thing for me about meditating is not allowing my imagination to entertain the hell out of my mind. I usually have to chastise my imagination back into its corner so that my mind can rest.
After the meditation is when things got a little funky. That’s when the traditional AA format kicked in and everyone went around the room introducing themselves in loud and proud voices.
“Hi, I’m Chad, and I’m an alcoholic.”
“Hi, I’m Mandy, and I’m an alcoholic and an addict.”
“Hi, I’m Guinevere, and I’m an alcoholic and a crackhead.”
** names completely made up because of the whole confidentiality thing, of course.
And on and on.
The claustrophobic anxiety started to set in. First of all, I like to be invisible in group situations and pretty much have a panic-anic attack every time I have to say “Hi, my name is….” in front of other people.
Second, am I an alcoholic? I’m pretty sure I’m not. But maybe I am? No, I’m not. But I do like whiskey? But I haven’t had any in months. But alcoholism runs in my family? But so do big boobs, and I don’t have those. But I drink Theraflu sometimes when I’m not even sick? But Theraflu is really, really good.
Okay. You get the picture.
Finally, it was my turn.
“Hi, my name is Joslyn.”
I left it at that.
Good call. I’d have said, “Hi my name is TOm Collins.” But this is because I am a bit of a wiseass.
if big boobs run in your family, what happened to the rest of us? (and, no,that’s not all I gleened from this dissertation, it made me laugh in many different ways)