Whether it's Alcoholics Anonymous, Narcotics Anonymous, or any other recovery program, I believe they have one thing in common. When a person first attends, they absolutely don't need to be there. Okay, that's what the person's mind is trying to tell them anyway.
My first experience with a group was almost my last. It was many years ago while I was in college. Remember when I first thought I was going crazy and finally saw a therapist? Well after a long year of working with her, she suggested group therapy. After managing not to throw up, I finally agreed. Finally - by the way - was several sessions later. At that point, it wasn't so much that I didn't "need" the group therapy as it was that I was sure that I would be the only truly crazy person there. The thought of having to discuss my horrible darkness was more than I could bear.
Well, she finally got me to agree and I showed up. I walked into a group of absolutely anonymous faces. That helped. As people began talking - they were used to the group and very open, while I sat like a statue daring anyone to notice that I was even breathing - the one thing that struck me was "okay, I admit, maybe their problems are close to mine but mine is still worse because it is me and I'm supposed to be perfect."
After a couple of weeks, I was beginning to relax and feel like maybe I wasn't alone - maybe these others were going through the same pain that I was experiencing and maybe I could talk without being condemned. So I began very slowly opening up.
Then Hell walked in the room.
Hell for me was someone I knew - someone in my same major - someone who knew the same people I knew - someone I didn't even get along with - someone invading the only space that had begun to feel safe - the destroyer!
I curled up into a ball and stayed there, refusing to speak, even to answer questions.
Finally my therapist, the group, and the destroyer taught me a concept that evaded me in my fear: she was there because she was in pain and was trusting me with her darkest secrets. She wasn't about to betray me and more than I would betray her.
We never became friends that hung around together but we did learn to accept each other and even empathize and respect each other's victories on the long road home.
But although group helped, it didn't solve my problems. It stirred the pot, brought it to simmering and left it there through many years of waiting and therapy because, through all this time, we were trying to deal with the underlying causes - which was important - don't get me wrong. But I NEVER ONCE faced the fact that I had an addiction.
A sin to be repented of, yes - unfortunately over and over again - but not an addiction.
Sometimes realization comes in strange ways. Mine did.
I have a very dear friend at church who has a problem with smoking. We found out about the Addiction Recovery Program that the church runs. But my friend doesn't have a car. So I offered to take her each week so that she could attend the meetings. It would mean attending the meeting myself and I worried that the members of the group would resent my being there when I wasn't an addict.
I have to interject that my therapist for depression knew just about everything to do with my past and my dark flights into pain and pornography and had suggested the program to me, which is how I had found out about it. Of course, I rejected the idea - NOT AN ADDICT.
So there I was, with my friends, feeling totally uncomfortable as these wonderful people were reading through the 12-steps, reading through the step they were focusing on that week, and then sharing their stories, struggles, and successes. My friend even spoke - her first week and she opened up. I was mentally back in my first group therapy session - a living stone - immovable and very silent. The only thing I could focus on was that I was her for my friend. That kept me from focusing on the similarities between me and everyone else in the room. As I said at the beginning - I didn't need to be here - it was strictly for my friend.
But I have to explain. It wasn't because I felt better than those in the room. Far from it. I felt like they were dealing with physical addictions - things that attacked their bodies and almost stole their free will - but things that, with the help of God and the support of the program, they could overcome. I almost envied them. Mine? Well, mine was just pure wickedness. No addiction, just a lack of desire at times to live the commandments. So no, I didn't need to be here, because here couldn't help me - I was pretty much damned by my own choices.
What I didn't realize is that this pretty much defines an addict.
Well, my friend got a job and was unable to continue the meetings. But something inside of me desperately needed to go back. And so I did. I didn't talk for a long time. I just listened. I listened for the familiar pain that others were suffering - the familiar paths that they were taking - the hope that was beginning to dawn.
It took a long time before I talked. In our group, we don't have to tell our addiction. It is up to us. I don't know where the strength came from, but finally I opened my mouth and my soul.
And you know what? I didn't die. I'm still alive. The group still accepts me. And I'm still attending, working my way through all the mess.
Somehow, my problems seemed more perverted to me than anyone else's. To them, well, they opened their hearts and loved me.
But I discovered something very important in the process. There is a difference between taking respite in the safety of the group and working the program and getting better. I was still only doing the first. Oh, I had the program book, which I read at meetings. But I couldn't quite get myself to "work the program". The meetings helped, the support helped. Still I was spinning my wheels, safely in neutral, until life side-swiped me again and I fell back into my addiction with a fury and was buried with all the guilt, both new and old.
Luckily, the group, my church leader, and my therapist didn't give up on me. Instead they braced me up until I could stand and then the group facilitator's words finally sunk home - "you've got to WORK the program."
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