All Walks of Life
Yet We're All the Same
from 
JoeUser Forums
JoeUser Forums
I walk into the "Glass House" tonight and here is what I observe:
I see multiple people with shaking hands because of lack of nicotine in their system, trying to survive in a non-smoking environment. I smell coffee---very, very strong coffee. I hear those gut wrenching, hacking coughs that only come from years of substance abuse. I see furrowed brows and smirks of contentment. I guess that's what separates the old from the new.
A man across from me in a leather jacket is leaning back in a chair with his right arm propped up on the next one. I can see he's trying with all his might to portray confidence. He wants us to think he has nothing to hide; I secretly think he does. He begans to read the opening statement with a rythym not unlike that of a scared child reading in front of their class with long breaths inbetween drawn out statements.
A women walks in late, but I don't see her as a women. I see her as a child, a scared child looking for reassurance. (It just so happens I turn out to be correct.) The tip of her nose is very red as though she's freezing, but it's rather warm in the room. After she's called on to speak, I notice the redness spreading over her neck and cheeks and the tips of her ears. She says something along these lines, "Inside I feel like an adolecent whose terrified of what you people will think of me. I'm a grown woman with grown children! I need the encouragement these meetings bring me." I liked her.
To my left two teenagers (the only other teenagers in the room) sit nervously with only each other to lean on. They both wear black beanies and try to look as intimidating as possible (it takes one to know one). When the person in charge asks if anyone would like to come forward and publicly state their position at this time, the boy of the couple quickly rises and walks briskly across the room. I look back at the girl who is trying to supress a grin spreading slowly across her face, a look of pride. As my eyes return to her fellow, I see him concentrating only on her and trying to hold in a small smile himself. They were starting this new journey together.
Men sit everywhere with receding hairlines and combovers, and I see one man who I'm sure must have been handsome in his day. These people are, I'm sure, much younger than they appear. The previously handsome man says something along these lines, "When I first started coming to the meetings I wanted to be different than everybody else. I mean, I can finally relate with some people, and I'm still trying to separate myself from them." I could relate.
Then there's this girl in the back. She has a lip ring and she looks genuinely interested in what everyone is saying. She's sitting next to her sister and another older looking woman. The immediate thoughts going through her head are, "Why am I sitting here listening to a bunch of drunks whine about how f**ked up their lives are when drunks f**ked up my life?" By the end of the meeting her thought pattern changed to, "Hmm, there's not enough hugs to go around." That's me, and here's what I learned:
God is either everything or nothing.
When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.
A very wise person has taught me the value of a hug, and I've never wanted to give a hug more than at the end of that meeting.
These people are real in a world of fakes; no wonder this program works. I want to be like them, I want a support group, maybe I should become a drunk.
Support groups are alot like blogging.
Anywho, that's about the extent of it for now. Maybe I'll make these meetings a regular part of my Saturday night routine. It was an open meeting, meaning Ali-non (a group of non-alcoholics who have loved ones who are) and AA members both come and share. I liked that. I've been through this jazz with my insane mother before, but maybe I wasn't ready to learn. *see above learned item #2*.......
Trinitie
I see multiple people with shaking hands because of lack of nicotine in their system, trying to survive in a non-smoking environment. I smell coffee---very, very strong coffee. I hear those gut wrenching, hacking coughs that only come from years of substance abuse. I see furrowed brows and smirks of contentment. I guess that's what separates the old from the new.
A man across from me in a leather jacket is leaning back in a chair with his right arm propped up on the next one. I can see he's trying with all his might to portray confidence. He wants us to think he has nothing to hide; I secretly think he does. He begans to read the opening statement with a rythym not unlike that of a scared child reading in front of their class with long breaths inbetween drawn out statements.
A women walks in late, but I don't see her as a women. I see her as a child, a scared child looking for reassurance. (It just so happens I turn out to be correct.) The tip of her nose is very red as though she's freezing, but it's rather warm in the room. After she's called on to speak, I notice the redness spreading over her neck and cheeks and the tips of her ears. She says something along these lines, "Inside I feel like an adolecent whose terrified of what you people will think of me. I'm a grown woman with grown children! I need the encouragement these meetings bring me." I liked her.
To my left two teenagers (the only other teenagers in the room) sit nervously with only each other to lean on. They both wear black beanies and try to look as intimidating as possible (it takes one to know one). When the person in charge asks if anyone would like to come forward and publicly state their position at this time, the boy of the couple quickly rises and walks briskly across the room. I look back at the girl who is trying to supress a grin spreading slowly across her face, a look of pride. As my eyes return to her fellow, I see him concentrating only on her and trying to hold in a small smile himself. They were starting this new journey together.
Men sit everywhere with receding hairlines and combovers, and I see one man who I'm sure must have been handsome in his day. These people are, I'm sure, much younger than they appear. The previously handsome man says something along these lines, "When I first started coming to the meetings I wanted to be different than everybody else. I mean, I can finally relate with some people, and I'm still trying to separate myself from them." I could relate.
Then there's this girl in the back. She has a lip ring and she looks genuinely interested in what everyone is saying. She's sitting next to her sister and another older looking woman. The immediate thoughts going through her head are, "Why am I sitting here listening to a bunch of drunks whine about how f**ked up their lives are when drunks f**ked up my life?" By the end of the meeting her thought pattern changed to, "Hmm, there's not enough hugs to go around." That's me, and here's what I learned:
God is either everything or nothing.
When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.
A very wise person has taught me the value of a hug, and I've never wanted to give a hug more than at the end of that meeting.
These people are real in a world of fakes; no wonder this program works. I want to be like them, I want a support group, maybe I should become a drunk.
Support groups are alot like blogging.
Anywho, that's about the extent of it for now. Maybe I'll make these meetings a regular part of my Saturday night routine. It was an open meeting, meaning Ali-non (a group of non-alcoholics who have loved ones who are) and AA members both come and share. I liked that. I've been through this jazz with my insane mother before, but maybe I wasn't ready to learn. *see above learned item #2*.......
Trinitie
