We don't heal in isolation, but in community.
When I decided to stop drinking I had only one friend who had also taken this step. The others were either confirmed party people, life-long teetotalers or folks who could take or leave alcohol. None could relate to me and vice versa.
The pandemic produced one good thing: remote meetings. Zoom, the most popular remote platform, is often rightly maligned for unexpected glitches and challenges for technophobes. Some produce moments of high hilarity as in the iconic "I am not a cat" court recording which never fails to reduce me to helpless laughter/tears. But Zoom encourages connectivity and community on a broad scale and brings together those who are otherwise isolated.
Many sobriety support groups use Zoom to reach and connect members, filling an apparent need that has blossomed in recent years. Is this because sobriety has become a thing? Did the pandemic unleash alcohol dependency on a grand scale and people are now taking stock? Wiser people will figure that out; all I know is, options are available. Some include Alcoholics Anonymous, Sober Sisters Society, Recovery Dharma, Soberistas, The Luckiest Club and others. Some fill specialized niches and many charge a membership fee.
I considered Alcoholics Anonymous, the widely accepted solution that has worked for many people since its founding in 1935. But I'm agnostic and the organization's patriarchal Christian dogma didn't work for me. I'm also unwilling to call myself an alcoholic. The label implies weakness and self-indulgence and I don't accept that. I believe that alcohol, just like nicotine, performs exactly how it's intended for many of us, through promotion and idealization by the alcohol beverage industry. Finally, although some people need anonymity for personal or professional reasons, it's not important to me. I think it's healthy to shine a spotlight on the sea anchor of alcohol dependency. Thank goodness, though, for the AA recovery program. It has been a godsend for many.
During my first week of sobriety I read Laura McKowen's candid memoir documenting her sobriety journey, We are the Luckiest - The Surprising Magic of a Sober Life. That led me to the online community,The Luckiest Club (TLC).
Here's how it went: I signed up for the free 3-day trial period, becoming eligible to attend (almost) any of the 35+ available meetings each week. I say almost any because some meetings are for specific demographic groups, men or women only, BIPOC, queer-focused, you get the idea. It's a good thing, creating a safe space for those who need it. The other meetings are open to all.
I sailed through the trial period without ever visiting the site, much less participating in a meeting. Frankly, I was regretting my rush to register. I told myself I didn't have enough time and that this really wasn't for me. It's clear now I resisted because throwing myself in with sobriety seekers - strangers - was clearly an admission that I had an alcohol "problem." But when I received notification that my free 3-day period was over and the monthly subscription ($14 when I enrolled; the cost is higher now) I figured I'd better give it a shot rather than waste a month's worth of dues.
The first meeting had me hooked. It was warm and inclusive and eye-opening. A well-trained "host" (read sobriety counselor) opened the meeting with an Avett Brothers song and led the group with compassion and humor. I kept my mouth shut and listened.
Members represent the full sobriety spectrum, from those who have been sober for years and even decades alongside newbies courageously embarking on that first day. This surprised me - I thought that once you were "cured" you no longer needed to participate in a sobriety support group. It seems I have a lot to learn.
Meetings start with participants marking sobriety milestones, followed by a quiet time to become centered and present for the ensuing hour. There's usually a reading and sometimes a guest speaker. Then attendees have an opportunity to share a triumph, a setback or maybe simply comment on the reading. Sharing is optional and I didn't speak up until I had attended several meetings.
Every meeting concludes with the leader reminding attendees of the Nine TLC Things, which socked me right in the gut:
- It is not your fault.
- It is your responsibility.
- It is unfair that this is your thing.
- This is your thing..
- This will never stop being your thing until you face it.
- You can't do it alone.
- Only you can do it
- You are loved.
- We will never stop reminding you of these things.
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