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We read a section from “Working With Others” recently at a meeting. If you’re not familiar with that part of the book Alcoholics Anonymous, it’s worth a read. That section of sober literature makes a compelling case that one of the biggest keys to helping yourself is to help others.
I totally agree with that idea. Is there a statement stronger than “totally agrees”? Because I would use that statement. I have to help others. Period. In fact, in a strange contradiction, the most important part of me helping myself might be in how much I try to help others. What a strange—but true—math equation that is!
The thing that struck me the other night when we read “Working With Others” is that recovery literature often refers to sober people helping newly-sober people. And that’s great! But I also noticed something that the literature does NOT say, which is that you only should work with other people who have less sober time than you.
I fall into this trap a lot. I have several sponsees that I speak with on a regular basis, and I have a sponsor. When I connect with people, it’s usually somebody who’s newer to sobriety. That’s not a bad thing, in any way, shape or form.
The bad thing for me is that when I look at the totality of my sober program, I have to be very careful to avoid becoming someone who isn’t vulnerable himself. When I think about the phone calls and recovery work I have done recently, most of it is focused on others, not myself, and I do think I have slid a little bit on making sure that working with others is a two-way street. If I only talk to people with less sober time than me, am I being vulnerable myself? Or am I starting to morph into someone who’s trying to teach but not learn?
I think I do a decent job of not becoming that. But it’s easy to do. I’ve read all the literature at this point. I know the program. I have been to something like 2,500 meetings in probably 25 different states, in multiple different recovery fellowships. I don’t think I ever purposely thought to myself, “I’ve been a newcomer already. I now need to become an old-timer who reaches out his hand for people to grab but doesn’t need to grab a hand myself.” It just kinda happens, and that hit me the other night.
It’s also fitting that at that meeting, we say the set aside prayer, which is a regular topic around here for me. I love that the set aside prayer insists that we push everything we think we know, about pretty much any topic, off to the side. Ask yourself, what do I really know? Do I really fully understand sobriety? God? My kids? Science? Sports? Math?
The answer is no… but my actions often look more like someone who thinks he’s pretty damn smart. That guy thinks, I’ve been around. I’ve seen some s**t! I am a helper, not a recipient of help.
I guess the biggest thing that hit me is that if I am not working with others in both directions, I am not holding up my end of the bargain. If I only work with newcomers, that means I’m depriving other awesome sober people of the opportunity to see me be vulnerable myself, to learn from others and allow wisdom and generosity to be handed down to me, not just from me to others. It has to be a highway that runs in both directions, and lately, I’ve been more of a one-way cul-de-sac street.
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:
"I always hustled money; I never had a problem with it until I came to AA. You people ruined me."
(Credit: Grapevine, January 2008, by Jan A. of Queens, NY)
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