If you want to subscribe to LOL Sober, hit the purple button below. I’m mostly publishing free pieces right now, but paid subscribers do have access to monthly premium pieces—such as THIS comedy special about my 10 favorite addiction/sobriety jokes!
I’ve shared many times before that I believe I have a spiritual gas tank. It’s a lot like an actual gas tank. I start driving around in the world, and I begin to burn off spirituality as I accumulate miles. And yes, literal driving in an actual car does seem to be draining my spiritual gas tank quite a bit recently, I’ve noticed.
What is a spiritual gas tank and how do you fill it up? Well, I think we’re all different so please don’t take my thoughts as the ultimate authority. But for me, I need to do about five meetings a week, at least an hour on the phone with recovery people, an hour or so of reading every week, some prayer, 20 minutes of meditation every single day and I spend about two or three hours a week on this newsletter, which I have found to be a nice little supplement to my spiritual nutrition.
That’s the recipe for me. I know people that seem to fill up their tanks by sponsoring lots of people and maybe getting to fewer meetings. I know people who do lots of area-wide service (that’s GSRs and DCMs and other big service opportunities) and they fill up that way. To each their own.
One important thing for me is that my spiritual gas tank changes all the time. During the pandemic, I was better off with a meeting every day, and I read probably 20 recovery books during that two-year period. I needed more work to fill up the tank. And even then, I think I was pretty irritable during that stretch without as much in-person sobriety stuff.
I am talking about this today because my tank was almost on E recently. I went on a 1,000-mile drive in a minivan with my wife and three kids back to my college campus, and it was a grind. I did not get to any meetings during that 72-hour stretch, so I made sure my spiritual gas tank was completely topped off in the days leading up.
And it worked quite well. We had an awesome trip. I felt pretty calm and serene the entire trip, and I think that played a crucial role in why it was one of the best trips we’ve ever taken as a family. It was a family get-together that I will remember when I am 95 years old hanging out in the bingo hall at my senior care facility. I am guessing I won’t know my name at that point… but I will fondly remember this trip.
But I did notice as we rolled back into town that the spiritual gas light was about to come on. It was starting to flicker a little bit on the drive home. I saw some bad drivers that I considered waving one finger at. I groaned a little at family members who may or may not have been able to pick out food to eat amongst the, oh, 400 available restaurants along the highway.
The beautiful part of this story is that I immediately went to a meeting the next day in my current home in Connecticut. The meeting was an absolute dud. Lots of people commenting directly on other peoples’ shares. Lots of murmuring and snarky comments like we were at a standup comedy show. Those are the kinds of things that when my spiritual gas tank is filled up, I can get a little high and mighty about.
But on this day, I was so grateful to have a meeting of any kind that I devoured it and felt terrific walking out of there. It’s a little like if you hate drinking water but get stuck in the desert for two days… chances are, you’re excited about the water.
So my gas tank felt quite full almost immediately. I know I need to keep that momentum going the rest of the week, so I’ll probably aim for a good string of consecutive days of meetings just to make sure. But the gas light is off for now, and I don’t really want to try to push my luck on that, and I wouldn’t encourage others to, either.
I’m reminded of the Seinfeld episode where Kramer begins to get a thrill out of seeing how far he can drive his car with the tank on empty, and wild hijinks ensue. That is not a high I plan to chase because I don’t think it would end very well for me.
This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke:
A true story: At a district meeting recently, a member made a motion that we donate a couple hundred dollars to outfit the hospitality room at the upcoming New Hampshire AA Convention with refreshments. His motion was seconded, and the chair asked if there was any discussion before the vote. To clarify the motion, I asked if “a couple hundred” meant “two hundred dollars”
“Does a couple mean ‘two’?” he quipped.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “I used to stop for a couple of beers almost every night.”
(Credit: AA Grapevine, July 2003, Andy H. from Portsmouth, New Hampshire)
Please spread the word to a sober friend! Find me on Substack… or Twitter… or Facebook… or Instagram… or YouTube. And introducing my web site, LOLsober.com.
