I don't talk about recovery meetings on this blog, and for good reason. What happens in those meetings is sacred, and it's not my business to share the things I hear there.
But I have talked about how telling my truth to a roomful of strangers saved my life. I dragged myself into a recovery meeting, broken, weary and desperate. I didn't plan on speaking; I didn't want to be there at all. I was going to get the heat off, to appease the people who loved me and avoid the dire consequences if I didn't get help.
I went into the room, plunked down in the back and crossed my arms, prepared to despise everything and everyone.
It didn't work out that way. Before I could stop myself, my hand went up and I said my name. And then I said I was an alcoholic.
I'd love to say the clouds parted, beams of light came streaming down and I never drank again. It didn't work out that way, either.
But a seed was planted that night. Sitting in that room for an hour, listening to others' stories, I felt companionship and understanding. I felt safe, for the first time in a long time. My life was full of baffled loved ones asking questions that started with "how could you..." and "why don't you .." and "why can't you..." In that room I was surrounded by people who understood, and it broke through my pain and denial just enough to bring me back again. And again. I went until I wanted to be there, and nobody was more surprised than me when that happened.
These people I had never met before, who had nothing invested in me, who didn't want a thing for me except my own peace of mind, started me down the road to sobriety.
Something special is happening over at Crying Out Now. People are stepping forward, telling their truths, surrendering their fears, and comforting strangers are responding in kind. I started Crying Out Now seven months ago, and now co-moderate it with Robin and Val, two amazing women in recovery. It is a place for people to come tell their truths, anonymously if they wish, without judgment or fear of reprisal.
Some people who submit their story are still drinking, unsure if they have a problem or not and simply thinking out loud. Others are newly sober or coming back after a relapse and are struggling and in need of support. Some people have been in recovery for a while, and just want to share some of their experience, strength and hope.
The power of hearing someone tell their truth, not because they have all the answers but because they don't, is undeniable. The comfort offered by people who have been there, or who are there themselves, is healing.
The internet affords its own version of anonymity. You can be anyone you want to be, and lots of people use this power for evil instead of good. At Crying Out Now the ability to be anyone - just another face in a sea of faces - has the power to heal. For many people, it's the first place they have ever talked about their struggles or fears. It's a first step, a planted seed, a small break in the isolation of suffering.
I don't mean to imply that telling your story online is the equivalent of going to a recovery meeting. But that same spark is there, that feeling of busting through to the truth, the breath-holding step of finally, FINALLY, just getting it out there and letting it go.
Crying Out Now is not about telling people that they need to get sober, or how to get sober. Where people go and what they do with their truth is up to them. But it's a safe place to open up and shed a small beam of light into the darkness.
If you're struggling with alcoholism or addiction, or if you're in recovery and want to share some of your story, please submit a post to cryingoutnow@gmail.com. We want to hear from you. Robin, Val and I are the only ones with access to the email, and you can create an anonymous hotmail or yahoo email account if you don't want anyone to know who you are.
Or just come lend some words of encouragement and support. You can comment anonymously, too, and your words will help someone feel less alone, less afraid.
Please help us spread the word about Crying Out Now, because the comfort of strangers has the power to heal.
perfectly said, thank you ellie :)
ReplyDeletesuch experience, strength and hope
I added the widget for Crying Out Now to my blog over at Snarkyville. What a great way to share community and support with those that have access to the internet!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Jenine!! :)
ReplyDeleteReading the stories at Crying Out Now helped me a lot in the beginning. Really before the beginning. I would say the stories there helped me see reality, the reality that I am an alcoholic. Because there's nothing quite like hearing/reading other people say exactly all the crazy things that have been in your head for years.
ReplyDeleteThat feeling of mutual identification only deepened when I went to actual meetings, but those stories were a huge comfort and I am so glad you guys set up the site.
I think it's really wonderful that you started the Crying Out Now blog. One thing those of us who are alcoholics seem to have in common is that we feel alone and like no one could ever *really* understand what we're going through. When I read some of the stories I find myself thinking things like "yep - that was me" or "wow, I can remember feeling exactly like that". It's really helpful for newbies to know they aren't alone and also for those who have some sobriety time under their belts to remember what it was like in the beginning. The Crying Out Now blog is great for both.
ReplyDeleteA loved one has been in recovery for years and once, almost by chance, I got to hear them lead a meeting. It was one of the most beautiful moments, led me to understand them better and how things worked for them. Led me to understand the grace and patience that recovery meetings could grant. I've been a huge advocate since then...sometimes, there's comfort in being with like minded people. I think it's part of why the blogging community has meant so much to me.
ReplyDeleteReading the stories at Crying Out Now helped me a lot in the beginning. Really before the beginning. I would say the stories there helped me see reality, the reality that I am an alcoholic. Because there's nothing quite like hearing/reading other people say exactly all the crazy things that have been in your head for years.
ReplyDeleteThat feeling of mutual identification only deepened when I went to actual meetings, but those stories were a huge comfort and I am so glad you guys set up the site.