Mr. SponsorPants

The New Sponsee 3

I had been spending all morning thinking about myself, my life, what the next chapter might hold for me, and was getting a little squirrely behind the self obsession, so when the Skateboard Pup appeared around the corner of the building across the street -- threading his board through typical urban obstacles with a balanced slouch and a lazy swing of his hips -- I practically ran out of the restaurant to meet him.  Such is the healing power of service work -- once you experience the relief of getting out of yourself with only the objective of being helpful to someone else as your goal, you become keenly aware of when you need that particular medicine.  He nodded through the window and with a snap of his foot flipped his board up and caught it practically without looking.

SKATEBOARD PUP:  Hey.

Mr. SponsorPants:  Hey.

SKATEPUP: You got a couple minutes?

Mr. SP:  Sure.  Let's go next door I need a coffee.  You want one?

He shrugged.  .

SKATEPUP:  Yeah, I guess.

I nodded to my Shift Lead and indicated with a simple pantomime we'd developed that I was going to get a cup of coffee and did she want one.  She declined with a nod.  I waggled my thumbs which, in the pre-cell-phone era might have looked like I was trying -- and failing -- to thumb wrestle myself, but among my crew meant "text me if you need me and I'll come right back." (Yes children, there was a time, long ago now, when people weren't always almost instantly available -- when they left the room they might actually be out of touch!  Some few of us still remember it, though I know the young think this only a myth.)  She nodded and made a shooing gesture.

SKATEPUP:  What was the banging your elbow thing?

Mr. SP:  What?  Oh, this? 

I made the "do you want coffee" sign again, which is basically patting the inside of your elbow as if looking for a vein to draw blood from.  Or inject.  It evolved among us as we've mutually joked that there are some days we would take our caffeine in an intravenous drip if possible.  I explained the genesis of our semifore. 

SKATEPUP:  Isn't that... I don't know, I didn't think you'd joke about injections or addiction or anything.

Mr. SP:  What?  Why not?  Because I'm sober?   I laughed.   Oh, kiddo, if I spend every 24 hours spitting in the eye of my addiction and saying, "No, not today you bastard" you can bet I'm going to laugh about it as well. 

He considered for a bit.

SKATEPUP:  You're very...

He seemed to be testing several words before choosing one.

Mr. SP:  ...very...?

SKATEPUP:  Theatrical.

I had thought the penny dropped before now, but perhaps not.  Mentally I shrugged to myself; we were still virtual strangers. This drive-by sponsorship was working for him, and was certainly helping me get out of myself, but its intermittent nature had still left big gaps in our knowledge of one another.  As my primary purpose is to help him with his sobriety, and so far this wasn't broken and thus didn't need fixing, I let it unfold as God would have it.  Generally I've found that God needs little assistance from me on the timing of things, much as I like to try and help.  My job is to listen for my cue and say my lines, not to try and direct the play.

Mr. SP:  You want a coffee or not? 

SKATEPUP:  Nah, actually, I'm good.

I engaged in my usual banter with the barrista, again offering my heartfelt thanks that they had recently opened next door to my work -- there is a big difference in your work day between "popping next door" for a coffee and "popping two blocks away."  I've found there's little "pop" once you pass the block-and-a-half mark.

SKATEPUP:  You do that with everybody, don't you?  I've watched you do it at your work, too.

Now I was mystified.

Mr. SP:  Do what?  Talk?

SKATEPUP:  No.  Joke.  Engage.  Banter.

Again I revised my estimation of the Skatepup and filed it away for further consideration. "Engage" and "Banter" are not street words, per se -- not that I'm an expert in urban nomenclature exactly.

Mr. SP:  What is this, a game of Mr. SponsorPants Scattergories or something?  'Describe Mr. SP in series of one word adjectives.'  I don't really think about it, I just goof with people.  Sometimes I laugh, sometimes I can give them a laugh.  It's not really a conscious thing.  Why, does it bother you or something?

SKATEPUP:  No, no.  It's just... at the meeting I was at last night someone was talking about 'being comfortable in their own skin' and it looks like... I mean, just now I thought... I guess to me that's... that's what that looks like.  What you look like doing that.

I stopped dead and looked over at the Skatepup with a face which must have seemed... well, you'd have to ask him, I guess.

SKATEPUP:  What? 

Mr. SP:  Skatepup, that is one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me in my whole sobriety.  Thank you.

He looked flustered for a second, and then stood up straight and looked me in the eye.

SKATEPUP:  You're welcome.

 

I thought back on all the sponsors I've had.  My Dead Sponsor (he who's wise counsel I miss every single day).  My First Sponsor, then the Sarcastic Sponsor after him... how much I learned from them, not just going through the Big Book, or talking, but just being with them.  It was a powerful thing for me, and it is a profound privelege for me to, in any way at all -- be it clumsily or unconsciously or with the best of intentions but only occasional good aim -- do the same for someone else.  In this case this strange, still somewhat enigmatic, scruffy almost-urchin.  Also, I heard my cue.

Mr. SP:  We have to figure out a way to hang out more.  Just meet for coffee, no big.  Have more time for talking, okay?

He considered it for a full minute, but I suspect he was playacting a little.

SKATEPUP:  Yeah.  I guess. Okay.

 

the essence of almost every suggestion I have given as a sponsor...

 

 

 

 

 

And, if I may add:

Please don't act surprised when you get there.

The destination is clearly printed on the ticket.

 

 

The New Sponsee 2

 

 

I'd seen the Skateboard Pup, all scruffy nonchalance, sail past the big picture window of the restaurant a couple of times today.  He glances in to take a measure of whether I'm busy or not.  He seems to prefer this sort of drop-by system, and has had neither demand nor complaint on the occasions when, at other times, a whole day goes by and the business is such that I never become available.  He hasn't called on the phone since that one time, the rest of our exchanges have been this sort of arranged accidental connection.  I leave it be.  Some of us have had bad experiences which give us good reason to bond with caution.  I'm still learning his story, but I get the strong sense the Skateboard Pup's is one such tale.

It had been a typical morning and early afternoon of problems to solve and surprises to address.  A clogged pipe.  My kitchen manager forgot to order enough avocados.  Two Vice Presidents and one Regional Manager "dropped by" for lunch.  It was the first day of training for a newly hired manager, and I had all their beginning paperwork to get through, in addition to making their first day of work feel like a real welcome rather than "Your locker is this one.  Here's your apron.  Do what Pedro says for the afternoon." kind of thing.  I hate that as a way to start someone off.  (I like to put "Welcome So-and-so!" signs up all around the kitchen and make a big show of walking them around and introducing them to everyone.  Believe me, I know how corny and ridiculous this sounds.  I got into the practice of it a little while ago, when one morning on my way to work, with a new Manager to train, I was consumed with self-pity and anger as to why I had to have this extra crap on my plate.  The ole' Resentment Engine was revving up, and it's deep growl was starting to drown out any other thinking -- as it always, always does, once it gets going.  Fortunately, sitting there on the bus, knees jammed into the seatback in front of me, I had a moment of Divine Intervention, mentally speaking, and thought about the 3rd Step Prayer, and the St. Francis Prayer, and how hard a first day at work can be.  What if this new hire was almost totally broke?  What if they were completely broke?  What if they had kids, or were close to eviction, or there were people depending on them?  They HAD to make this job work!  What a fearsome, high-stakes morning THEY were walking into if any of that was even half-way true!  And there I was sitting on the bus in my metaphorical dirty diaper feeling put upon for just doing my job.  I am embarrassed to say it, but that is not atypical of me sometimes.  So I did the old contrary action thing, and rather than grouse in my head about having to train them I found an action I could do which would help change my thinking:  Welcome signs.  It had such a big effect -- bigger than I at first even realized -- that I do it with every new hire now.   And today this particular new gal was touched by it, too, and even had me take a picture of her on her phone standing in front of one of the signs I'd made.  For all of the openness and authenticity I've worked towards in my recovery I always feel a little strange inside when I see people so comfortable with their emotions, so free to be sentimental in front of strangers -- as rife with alcoholic sensitivity as I can be on the Bad Days I still see myself as rather guarded, and am fascinated by those who apparently naturally aren't.)  All of which is to say that it wasn't till quite late in the day when I had a chance to sit down, and when I did I saw the Pup outside, leaning against the patio railing.  I got up and went to get him.  

Mr. SP:  Come in.  Come in.  I'll buy you an iced tea or something.  

Pup:  No, let's talk out here.

Mr. SP:  No, it's too hot out, I can't take it I've been running around all morning.  Come on, I wouldn't invite you in if it was a big deal.

My restaurant -- or rather, the restaurant I run, it is most definitely not my restaurant -- is very casual, so it's not like he would be taking up a seat at someone's station or anything.  His sitting at a table with me would be noticed by my team, but more because they are now idly curious about my oddities rather than anything else.  For example, they just now found out my real age and are scandalized.  They had me pegged as far younger than I am.  I guarantee you, this has nothing to do with how I look.  It is because they are almost all silly children who cannot fathom anyone much past thirty as having any life.  You're either "around their age" or you're sort of in your thirties or you're "Old."  Since I apparently didn't compute as "old" they lowballed their guesses to a ridiculous degree.  And also since they are young and easily bored and I am still relatively new to most of them I am like an exotic creature where the evidence doesn't quite add up.  My virtual absence on Social Media of any sort leaves them flummoxed when trying to be nosey.  At least, that's what my Kitchen Manager told me recently.  

Pup:  I didn't want to, you know, be a bother or anything while you were at work.  I don't want to cross any lines or anything.

Mr. SP:  And I appreciate that.  The way you're dropping by is fine -- hasn't been an issue.  I am grateful that you're being sensitive to the fact I am at work.  You can always call me to maybe pick a time to sit down away from here and we can...

Pup:  Naw, this... this is ok if it's ok with you.

Mr. SP:  Ok for now.  But the way it works is we go through the book together, so eventually we'll need to meet someplace where we are both comfortable doing that.

Pup:  Ok.

I still couldn't completely get a read on this kid -- and when I say "kid" I am painting with a broad brush.  He could be anywhere from very early twenties to very early thirties.  His style was either authentic hipster chic or well put together young homeless guy; the type of homeless who still had enough game to regularly find a shower and get his clothes clean.  Good teeth, clear skin, he feigned tough with his speech but the vocabulary and syntax gave away a good start somewhere along the way.  Verbal enough to be well read, but only midrange on the vocabulary.  Scruffy almost-beard and those stupid ear plugs which stretch the lobes out.  Ooops, there's my age showing.  His earlobe plugs were not crazy big like I've seen, but big enough to rule out certain kinds of jobs probably.  I don't think Bank of America is down with the plugs yet, for example.  He had the usual smattering of 21st Century tattoos, too, but not what I think of as "status ink."  Not enough ink to say "I spent a whole lot of money to look this counter culture."  Wait, are tattoos even counter culture anymore?  Damn!  Again my age encroaches!

Pup:  So I was at a meeting the other night and the topic was being powerless.

Mr. SP:  How many meetings a week are you going to?

Pup:  Three.

I gave him what I hoped was a noncommittal look, but I think my noncommittal drifted south into nonplussed.

Pup:  What?  You think three is not enough?  Man, that's like... c'mon!  Three is a lot.

I shrugged.

Mr. SP:  Not really. 

Pup:  What?  Come on!

Mr. SP:  I went to a lot of meetings when I was new.  I drank and got high every day -- the only days I didn't were the days I couldn't.  So for me, going to a meeting every day made sense.  I forget, how often did you...

Pup:  You didn't forget.  So far you remember every single thing I've told you.  At least, every time something comes up you remember something I said.

I shrugged again.

Mr. SP:  And so far you anticipate pretty well what I'm going to suggest and why I'm going to suggest it, so why exactly are we dancing about this. 

His turn to shrug.

Mr. SP:  Do as you choose, I'm not...

Pup:  ... selling anything.  Yeah, you keep saying that.

Mr. SP:  Well I'm not.  So do as you freaking well choose.  But I think three meetings a week, given what you've told me about your history, is a piss poor...

Team Member:  Excuse me, Mr. SponsorPants?

One of the kids at work had come up to the table.

Team Member:  The plumber is on Line 2.

Mr. SP:  Excuse me.

I got up and took the call.   When I got done and looked over the Skatepup had taken off.  Whatever else I was getting from this sponsee -- and I always get more than they do by the end of it, I assure you -- he was becoming my Master Class in being purely in the process, for however long, and staying completely out of trying to control the result.

Also, this kid was not the standard issue sponsee, so I was making sure I didn't get too attached.

Can you hear me lying to myself there?

Yeah.  Me too.

How The Skateboard Pup became my New Sponsee

 

 

Little Trees:  So, I gather you have a new sponsee.

Little Trees and I were having coffee.  Well, I was having coffee, they're a hot chocolate devotee.  I've sponsored them for a good number of years now, and we have an easy rapport;  I am as candid with them about my process and personal challenges as I am with any peer or long-time sober friend.

Mr. SponsorPants:  Yes, it seems I do.

LT:  I thought your dance card was full.

Mr. SP:  So did I.  But this one sort of ... materialized on my doorstep.

LT:  What the hell does that mean?

Mr. SP:  Well, they were waiting for me outside of work.  You know how you can see right in the restaurant, the whole front is open and all.  One day, a couple of weeks ago, I was taking a break and I noticed this scruffy skateboarder type watching me eat my lunch on the patio.  I didn't think much of it at the time.  But then, when I left work, there they were again. 

LT:  Did you think, "stalker" or "mugger?"

I laughed

Mr. SP:  Dear God no.  Neither.  They're about as intimidating as a pound puppy. 

LT:  Did you recognize them at all?

Mr. SP:  Nope.  But they sort of skateboarded over and asked if I was a friend of AA.  I had to gently suggest that maybe they meant to say "A friend of Bill." 

LT:  Homeless?  Crazy? 

Mr. SP:  I can't decide.  But they told me they'd seen me at meetings, and heard me share a couple times, and wanted to know about being sponsored.

LT:  They saw you but you never saw them?  Seriously?

Mr. SP:  You know some of those big meetings.  The Monday night -- or Sunday morning, if they were in the back.

LT:  True enough.  And you said yes?  Just like that?

Mr. SP:  They said that they're not much for prayer, but they asked God to help them find a sponsor and then later that same day they dediced sobriety was bullshit and were skateboarding over to their dealer and... there I was, eating my lunch.

LT:  You're the answer to their prayer.

Little Trees laughs.

Mr. SP:  Please, I know how it sounds, and I'm uncomfortable enough with it as it is.  Not to mention it's such a pat thing to say, they could just be feeding me a line.  Even with that bit I might have tried to suggest that maybe they needed to find someone more free, more available but... they said The Thing.

LT:  The Thing?

Mr. SP:  Yeah.  The one thing someone can say which I pretty much can't refuse.  I know that sounds melodramatic or something, but ....

I shrugged.

LT:  You're right.

Mr. SP:  What?

LT:  It does sound melodramatic.  What's The Thing?

I told them.

LT:  Oh.   

Little Trees stared out the window and sipped their hot chocolate for a minute

LT:  Yep.  That would do it.

Mr. SP:  I mean, in the face of that, I just can't come back with, 'Gosh, I feel like my dance card is full.'  And it's not like I've heard it put that way very often.  Quite seldom, in fact.  Maybe three, four times over the course of my whole sobriety.

LT:  So how's it working with them?

Mr. SP:  Different.  They put me in mind a little bit of someone I sponsored a long time ago, in another city.  Not that they're similar people, just how they seem to have come to me is all.

LT:  You get together every week?

Mr. SP:  They just drop by work, and wait for me.  When I have time I come out and tell them if I can talk or not.  They will wait as long as it takes.  No one really notices them, it's not like they've got their nose pressed against the glass.  They just hang out.  Skateboard around some.  You know there's a bunch of people around there.

LT:  Yeah.  Do they call you?  I mean, they have a phone, right?

Mr. SP:  Yeah.  They call pretty often, actually.

LT:  Well, keep me posted.  I'm intrigued.  I guess your HP wanted you on special assignment.

Mr. SP:  Intrigued?  That makes two of us.  And as for HP... well, I suppose I've run out of "Why's?" and am pretty comfortably living in a place of "Really? Okay.  You're the boss."

LT:  You've run out of "Why's?"  Really.

Mr. SP:  Oh, don't worry.  I'm sure it's only temporary.  I'll get more.

LT [muttering into their mug of hot chocolate]:  I've no doubt.

Mr. SP:  What's that?

LT:  We'll find out.  I said, 'We'll find out.'  About your new sponsee I mean.

Mr. SP:  I'm on to you, you know.

LT:  Shhh. You're an answer to a prayer.  Try to act dignified.

Mr. SP:  I'll dignify you if you keep on with that.

LT:  Dignity, please.  Dignity.  You're the example.

Mr. SP:  I give up.

LT:  Surrender!  That's the spirit!

conversations with a New Sponsee

 

 

New Sponsee:  I... I don't think I want to go to meetings anymore.

Mr. SponsorPants:  Really?

New Sponsee:  Yeah.  I just... I'm sorry,  I am just not getting anything out of them.

Mr. SponsorPants:  Really?

NS:  Yeah.

Mr. SP:  Ok.

NS:  Ok what?

Mr. SP:  Ok don't go to meetings anymore.

NS:  What?

Mr. SP:  What what? Did I mumble?  You said you aren't getting anything out of meetings anymore and that you didn't want to go.  So don't go then.

NS:  That's it?

Mr. SP:  Well, is there anything I could say that would change your mind?  I'm not selling anything.  You know that.  You don't want to go, then don't go.

NS:  Ok. It's just that... I thought a sponsor would, you know, try and talk me into it or something.

Mr. SP:  Oooh. Well there's your mistake.

NS:  What?

Mr. SP:  I'm not a good sponsor.  You should find a good one and they can talk you into going to meetings.

NS:  Are you making fun of me?

Mr. SP:  Not really.  I'm kinda tired so my make-fun-of tank is pretty much on "E."  We done here?

NS:  We done here?!?

Mr. SP:  Yeah. Are we done here?  I mean, let's recap:  You aren't getting anything out of meetings so you don't want to go, but you think a good sponsor could talk you into going so ... you might go get a good sponsor, but you'll probably just stop going to AA and that will be that.

NS: But... you... I... this is bullshit!

Mr. SP:  Yeah, maybe.  But the real bad news is that I don't even think a good sponsor can help you.

NS: What?  Why the hell... what the hell do you mean?

Mr. SP:  Well, somewhere in the literature, I'm pretty sure it's in the 12&12 but it might be in The Big Book (see, now if I were a good sponsor I'd know which one) it says that the one thing we have to develop on our own is the quality of willingness.

NS:  I don't follow you.  What does that have to do with you not telling me I should go to meetings or getting another sponsor or whatever?

Mr. SP:  Well, you want someone to talk you into being willing.  I've never seen that work.  I'm a bad sponsor, yes, but over the years I've been a very popular sponsor -- probably because I'm  so bad.  I've sponsored lots of people.  Doesn't really matter if they get drunk, I sponsor people so I don't get drunk.  So, it's always kind of worked out okay for me, the sponsorship thing.  But in all the years I've never seen that talk-you-into-it work,  Not really.  You want a sponsor to give you willingness but... that just doesn't work.  You have to get it yourself.

NS:  How can I do that when I don't even... I don't even want to do this shit!

Mr. SP:  I dunno. Is there anything a good sponsor could tell you that you think would help you become willing to go to meetings?

NS:  I don't know. Stuff about my drinking I guess.

Mr. SP:  Like what?

NS:  Oh, I see what you're doing.

Mr. SP:  You do?

NS:  Yeah, you're trying to get me to come up with a solution for my not wanting to go to meetings.

Mr. SP:  I am?  Holy shit! That's brilliant!

NS:  Yeah. And then once I come up with something you'll tell me to try it or go do it or something.

Mr. SP:  Really?  Oh.  Would that work?

NS:  I thought you were nice but you're kind of a sarcastic asshole.

Mr. SP:  Well hell.  Unmasked at last.  So, anyway, listen, I'm beat, it was a really long day, I'm going to crash, ok?

NS:  That's really it? 

Mr. SP:  I guess.  I really need to get to sleep.  I have a wicked early day tomorrow. 

NS:  So, are you really telling me to get another sponsor?

Mr. SP:  I don't know, I don't seem to be doing a very good job.  I've only been sponsoring you for [a short time] and you're already giving up on meetings.

NS:  Well... I didn't say "giving up."  I just said I didn't want to go and that they didn't seem to be helping.

Mr. SP:  Oh.  I'm confused.  Are you drunk?

NS:  What?  No!

Mr. SP:  Then how can you say they're not helping?  Look, I really, really have to go to bed.  I have to be to work at 5am tomorrow.

NS:  5am?  What the hell do you have to do at a restaurant at 5am?

Mr. SP:  Inventory.

NS:  Inventory?

Mr. SP:  Yeah, and if you were sober longer you'd see a fantastic opportunity for a joke right there, but I think today it's gonna get by you.  So anyway, I'm turning in.

NS:  So, you're not telling me I have to get another sponsor?

Mr. SP:  Is this connection bad?  I'm telling you I want to go to bed.

NS:  I guess I can see how meetings are helping maybe.

Mr. SP:  Really?  Then why would you stop going?

NS:  I don't know.  I kinda just don't want to anymore.

Mr. SP:  Oooh. So, you want to not do what you don't want to do, and you only want to do what you want to do.

NS:  I didn't say that.

Mr. SP:  Sounded kind of like it, but maybe this really is a bad connection.

NS:  Ok, maybe that's kind of what that means.

Mr. SP: And, that's pretty much how you've always lived, yes?

NS:  I guess.

Mr. SP:  And... by doing just and only what you want to do your life is great, right?  All the stuff you told me all the [bad stuff that happened -- really bad] was just a story you told me for kicks.

NS:  No! I mean... wow. Fuck you, Mr. SponsorPants.

Mr. SP:  So, rather than try something different and do what you don't want to do you're going to...

NS:  Ok! Ok!  I get it!  I get it!  Fine!  I'll keep going to fucking meetings for a while more!

Mr. SP: Charming.  Kid, you have used up your quota of talking shit to me.  I'm going to bed.  Actually, you've used up your quota for today, tomorrow, and the next ten times I see you.  You want to call someone and talk shit to them call your mother.  She'll take it because she doesn't know any better.  Yet.  Goodnight.

NS:  Wait!  Are you still my sponsor?

Mr. SP:  I really think you need a good sponsor, but till you find one, ok. For now I guess.

NS: [mumble]

Mr. SP:  What"

NS: SoIguessI'llgotomeetingsandthanksandgoodnight.

[click]

 

 

 

 

carrier pigeons

 

 

 

"...what matters is that we are doing our best.  We are sober.  And that's pretty damn good.  Actually, that IS our best."

A sponsee sent me that in a text today, and it showed up on my phone at a very opportune moment, which is the fancy way of saying: Damn, I needed to read that exactly at the moment I did.

Later on, I was thinking about that old AA term "pigeons" which was used (and still may be, in different parts of the country) as a moniker for a person someone sponsors -- as I use the word sponsee (and some people use the word "baby" -- though I've never felt overly comfortable with that one).

When I first heard the word "pigeon" in the context of a sponsee I thought it was demeaning or cynical.  And in fact one person I knew, many years ago now, used the term and attributed it to the idea that it is because a pigeon will shit on you and fly away.  (Nice, right?)

Fortunately I got the true story of how the term came to be used in this context, i.e., referring to a sponsee.

Apparently it started with Dr. Bob, one of AA's two co-founders.  He would refer to the people he did 12th Step work with as pigeons.  When asked why, he explained that in wartime (remember this was a very different era) carrier pigeons -- also sometimes referred to as homing pigeons -- were used to send vital information back and forth across great distances -- sometimes across enemy lines -- and that information could literally save lives.

So the 12th Step work he was doing with people was like the vital information transmitted by those carrier pigeons of old.  You sent them out, and they returned to you with a message which could potentially save your life.

I'm not one hundred percent sure of the accuracy of this origin story.  After all, AA's are no less vulnerable to sweetening up our own history than any other group of humans.  But whether it's fanciful or factual I can tell you this:  It's apt.

Because that's exactly what happened to me today -- vital, life-saving information returned home to me from someone I had been sharing it with for years now -- and I got it just when I needed it.

 

Things I learned (or was reminded of) this week: sometimes people just need

 

 

sometimes people just need to be listened to.

 

10 absolutely true things about my AA experience

 

 

1.  Working the 12 Steps changed me -- profoundly -- for the better; and it continues to do so.

2.  AA's focus on service has given me a way of looking at the world which opens my heart on a daily basis -- and that is a powerful antidote to becoming embittered by life, as I feel how easy it is to keep the heart shuttered as I grow older.

3.  AA Meetings are often (not always, but very often) a place which renews my faith in people and in something Good in the universe -- and some speakers and some who shared have given me some of the biggest belly laughs I have ever had.

4.  AA has taught me to be a good listener.

5.  Sponsorship -- both sides of the coin -- has taught me what a privilege it is to set ego aside in an effort to help people -- and it feels like a privilege -- and what a powerful catalyst for personal change that can be.

6.  AA has given me friendships which endure.

7.  AA gives me a safe place to go when I am troubled or I make mistakes.

8.  The practical advice I've been given in AA serves me in all areas of my life.

9.  Watching people in AA face life's challenges -- some of the toughest -- has taught me what real dignity and courage look like.

10.  AA has shown me that my past is not my future -- that there is no expiration date on the promise of reinventing myself, or starting over, or on God's Grace in my life.

 

 

just clean all the socks

 

SPONSEE:  It's too much.

They were referring to a problem -- and a character defect -- which had been dogging them for years.

Mr. SPONSORPANTS:  My first sponsor had some good advice about something like this.

SPONSEE:  What. [dripping with sarcasm] Turn it over?

Mr. SP: Wow.  Really?  I can leave if you'd like to be alone with your shitty attitude and your bitchy self-pity.

SPONSEE:  No.  Sorry.  What did they say?

Mr. SP:  Just clean all the socks.

SPONSEE:  Ok. Fine. What does that mean?

Mr. SP:  He said some problems were like a giant pile of dirty laundry.

SPONSEE:  I've seen the way you keep house.  This really applies.

Mr. SP:  Hey!  I'm busy!  Anyway, his point was, if you've got a giant pile of laundry, and you're overwhelmed, or you feel like you don't have the time to do it all or whatever, just... do all the socks.  It was... it was like a way to break it down into manageable pieces.  Manageable tasks.

SPONSEE:  So I should do my laundry.

Mr. SP:  Well, if you need to ... and if you wanted to you could take care of mine, too.

SPONSEE:  That's not AA service!

Mr. SP:  No, but it woud be awfully nice of you.

SPONSEE:  So the point is to break it down into manageable pieces.  I don't think I needed a little story for that insight.

Mr. SP:  No?  And your method for dealing with this has been so productive?

SPONSEE:  Well... no.  Point taken.

Mr. SP:  Okay.  So think of a way to sort this into smaller pieces and maybe that will help you get into action.  As for the character defect...

SPONSEE:  Yeah?

Mr. SP:  That you should turn over.  Because my own experience with those life-long character defects... whatever HP you've got, you better invite them in. 

SPONSEE:  [laughs] Amen.

 

Sober Texting 12

 

 

FORMER SPONSEE:  I don't believe in God anymore.

MR. SPONSORPANTS:  Man, you have a helluva way of saying 'hello.'

FS:  Well I don't.

MR. SP:  Ok.

 

A few minutes go by.

 

FS:  Don't you want to know why?

MR. SP:  No.

More minutes pass.

 

FS:  It's because of everything that happened.

I consider several responses and decide on short and completely honest.  I suppose the word "blunt" is not entirely inaccurate.

MR. SP:  Maybe.

FS:  Maybe?  What the hell does that mean?

MR. SP:  Look, I don't want to play, ok?

FS:  No, tell me what you mean.

MR. SP:  You want to make a speech about God and fairness and ask 'why' a lot and then when I say what I always say -- which is that logic alone will not get you to faith, and if a rigid logic is all you have in times of doubt it will fail you -- then you'll argue with me saying "yeah but..." a lot.

FS:  Wow you sure think you know it all.

MR. SP:  Then you will want to use all of that as a rationalization to do whatever you decided you wanted to do before you ever picked up your phone and texted me.

FS: You know what you are?

MR. SP: Besides fat, middle-aged and tired?

FS:  Funny  Always so funny.  You're arrogant, that's what you are.

MR. SP:  You know, this little back and forth has been great, but I'm going to say goodbye now.

 

I turned off my phone.  It had been a long day and I was tired.  I reserve the right to be totally wrong about every thing I texted.  Ultimately, in my experience, they are an angry individual and I pray for them, but I did my time.  I don't have to dance with them anymore, and I have no more answers and as many doubts and questions as anyone, most days.

Especially these past few days.

But I know that no matter what happens in the world, there is a part of me, beyond the parts of me which are griefstricken or awestruck or amazed or disgusted, which will genuinely use anything at all to justify doing what I secretly really want to do.

And that part of me is the part which is infused with my alcoholism, and whatever doubts or questions I may have on any given day I must guard against that part being the only part making decisions about my actions.

So I guess that, then, is also evidence of something Greater than myself -- some sort of Grace -- since on my own that part is indeed calling the shots, since in the darkest corners of me it's what I want.

This all may read silly but it feels messy and it lives real.