The Sponsor
A little tale of pre-conceived misconceptions
In the beginning, there was fog, then came the babel, then the Babel fish, and then I could begin to understand the stories. Soon my mind of mush began to recognize some of the stories, but they were being told as if they happened to that guy sitting across from me.
Then confusion, then understanding. I realized what the good ol’ Doc was getting at; what I was going through was not unique; in fact, quite the opposite. Most of us had similar stories.
Ok, so what? Get’s a bit boring hearing the same stories after a while.
I try another group, hmmm, can’t relate at all, another group, same again.
Then the guy who took me to my first meeting sat me down. I had been doing 60 meetings in 30 days, and I heard that it helped. Honestly, I thought I could get it all over quicker. Silly rabbit!
He started talking seriously about the big book—the big blue book. How he had found great strength and understanding by reading The Book: “Just the first part; don’t get into the steps.”.
Who is he to tell me what I can and cannot read? Humph, I will show him. I got to step 2 and stopped cold. I was taught to believe in a higher power from the day I was born. That didn’t work out so well. I told my friend that, and he reprimanded me for reading the steps. “Look,” he said, “if you are really serious about getting sober and staying that way, you need a sponsor.” “Huh”? “Someone to mentor you and help you understand and complete the steps.” “I ain’t joining no cult!” I shouted, visions of bald heads with ponytails selling flowers at the airport flashed through my head.
I know it’s getting a little long; I will skip to the next part. I went every day to the meeting I felt most comfortable with, and I watched and listened. I made coffee and complained about the weather. One fellow stood out from the rest to me. His sincere commitment to the program. I watched as he got his 20-year coin and cornered him at the coffee table.
We were nothing alike, more akin to the Odd Couple from 70’s TV, with me being the disheveled layabout. After he agreed to trial sponsor me, the differences between us became glaring, and I thought, how can someone so different relate to me in a way that could possibly be helpful? At first, it was difficult because I could not relate to him. After a while, it became apparent that it didn’t matter if we could personally relate; we could relate to the program, and that’s what mattered.
We never did become friends; we don’t talk, and I haven’t seen him in 20 years, but I owe that man my life for guiding me, being patient with me, and showing me a path to sobriety.
