I feel a bit emotionally exhausted. I tossed up all afternoon about going or not going and then I sat out front in the car literally quaking with anxiety. I think the hardest thing I have ever done was get out of the car, cross the road and walk into the church hall. I had to force myself for every step.
I listened for a while and had pretty much convinced myself I was in the wrong place. One guy had been to jail 17 times. SEVENTEEN! I don’t have so much as a speeding fine on my rap sheet. He was hilarious, though, and used “fuck” for punctuation, which is something that I always like in a person. Another guy came out of a blackout sometime a long time ago (because he has been sober as long as I have been alive) holding a shotgun in a city street. Anyway, I was invited to share and next thing I was a crying mess and all the scary dudes who weren’t actually very scary at all were handing me tissues and assuring me I was in totally the right place.
I don’t know if this is some kind of epiphanic, life-changing thing for me or not. What I mainly felt was an enormous sense of relief for taking a bigger step than I have ever taken before towards admitting that I’m not handling this very well on my own.
I don’t want to be sitting in a church hall in 20 years time, telling people about how I lost my family, or started drinking in the morning, or blacked out and hurt somebody. I know it doesn’t have to get that bad. I just don’t know whether I belong now or not.
It’s day 4, anyway. I had a nice weekend. Spent quality, outdoor time with the kids. Slept blissfully. Taught a dance class and then stayed afterwards to work on some choreography with more energy and creativity than I have felt in a long time. These are all the nice things I get to have when I am not drinking.