AA

Western U requires that we attend an AA or an NA meeting to fulfill a requirement for the behavioral med/psych course. So I went to one today. It's not an easy process. First you have to find where the meetings are. Then you have to make sure that you belong to the sub-population who is accepted at these meetings (i.e., women, men, gays, teens, etc.). Then you have to make sure that the meeting is "open"--that is available to non-addicts for observation, keeping in mind that they always reserve the right to close a meeting in the minutes before it begins. On top of all these things, we had to pre-arrange exactly which meeting we were going to attend with the Office of Medical Education, so they could be sure that multiple students weren't attending the same meeting. It was kind of a pain in the ass.

Then I arrived at the location and had an awkward experience (what else? Pie-Heaven is pretty much just a running log of the weird crap in my life). I walked in and the ladies were very excited to see a "new face." They shook my hand, they welcomed me. They smiled. They wanted to know about me. They offered me a place at the big U-shaped table. I inquired after someone who was in charge and a woman, "L.", came forward. I explained that I was a medical student and had arranged with my university to observe this meeting as part of a class to learn about recovery. I handed over the slip of paper that needed to be signed to prove I actually attended this morning's meeting.

Everything changed.

Welcome was torn out from under me. In its stead developed a distinct sense of reluctant tolerance. I was an outsider. They didn't want an observer, but because it was an open meeting, they couldn't really turn me away. They instructed me to sit against the wall, away from the table, and say nothing. At this point I became irate. I could still be sleeping this morning instead of sitting uncomfortably in a meeting about very private things among a bunch of strangers. So I scrunched up in the corner, thankful that I'd brought my coffee with me, and listened.

It was fascinating.

Women from all levels of society. All professions. Or no profession at all. Women who had been sober for years, or sober for less than a day. They talked of families broken up because of their relationship with alcohol. Jobs lost. Lives destroyed. Expensive dresses vomited on. And they talked about how, in the face of all these things, they still managed to lie about their addictions--both to themselves and to the world.

And they fool no one.

I had 2 thoughts: 1. the sense of fraternity among these women was remarkable. There was total acceptance and real desire to help one another recover, and return to life. 2. One doesn't need to be an addict to appreciate the inherent value of transparency and its role in wellness of the individual or the community. People lie to themselves and the world about things all the time because of ego or fear or helplessness. I have a new-found appreciation for folks who are willing to say, "Enough. It's time to change what I don't like, what hurts me, and what hurts others."

What have you done today to invite transparency into your life?