March 8, 2020 – March 15, 2020
No More Hugs And Kisses
” At two of my meetings (one that I chaired) we decided not to hold hands during the Lord’s Prayer. My hope is that all meetings will stop doing that. Hugs and handshakes too. This will be hard for me because I am a touchy feeling person but I have to stop and will. I’ve already started throwing people air kisses. I think I’m going to start bowing to people with my hands in Prayer position, like a Buddhist.
My hope is that isn’t so that we can be strong, but I fear some may relapse if they don’t go to meetings, meet with their sponsor, etc. I know we’ll talk on the phone more, especially to the old timers and those over 65 y/o.” – M.C., Tampa, Fla.
“I’m very much in the boat of trying to figure out reasons to stay sober when it feels like the world is ending. If only I could take a shot every time I see a social media post about how much people are planning on drinking/how much stockpiling of booze they’ve done….” – G.C., New Zealand
A New Level Unmanageability
“I got good and fucking grumpy at a meeting on Friday when I thought that the fifteen minutes spent talking sensibly about handshakes and building closures and similar was being uselessly pissed up the wall on nonsense. The scrolling ticker tape of doom that runs underneath the bottom of the screen of my consciousness was reading ‘What the fuck is this SHIT, I’m here to talk about RECOVERY and that desire is extremely IMPORTANT and you all are WASTING my time’. I just don’t learn, I just don’t ever fucking learn. Coronavirus has just become yet another thing (do I ever need more?) to remind me how completely ludicrous and unmanageable my emotional landscape is.” – A.G., Sheffield, England
Disneyland Was My Place To Escape Me, Now It’s Just Me
“Ever since I reached sobriety on June 23, 2013, I have struggled to manage my anxiety and manic energy. I’ve mostly funneled my mania into other addictions: sex, love, work, food, Grindr, caffeine, AA meetings, masturbation. After I was cancelled, I was nearly subsumed by these addictions. I was locked in my house for two months, laying in bed. When I wasn’t chugging tea or jacking off to Maverick Men videos, I was angsting over every piece of bad news that dribbled onto Twitter (income inequality, ISIS, etc.) and how (or if!) I could ever resurrect my professional life.
Then my fiance (now husband) urged me to treat myself. “Get the fuck out of the house,” he said. “Go to Disneyland.” Sitting on Tom Sawyer’s Island, watching ducks float past plastic boats designed to look like wooden river rafts, I forgot about my problems. My anxiety left my body as if I had just taken a massive shit. Finally, I reached what Bill W calls serenity, but I credit another famous W for giving me peace—Walt Disney. In his dedication to his theme park utopia, Disney wrote, “Here You Leave Today And Enter The World Of Yesterday, Tomorrow And Fantasy.” There was no sign of the present at Disneyland—no Donald Trump, no forever wars, no income inequality, no cancel culture, none of the problems dominating my mind.
Disneyland helped me avoid my addictive tendencies way more than meetings, books, or prayer. (Maybe Disney counts as God?) Ever since then, I’ve returned to Disneyland twice a month. It’s kept me sober and sane. Without the theme parks, I’m unsure if I could have survived being cancelled. Now, the Coronavirus has shut down Disneyland, my church, and I worry about how I’ll handle my addictive tendencies. Will I drink? Will I jack off until my dick falls off? Will I drink so much caffeine, my heart jumps out of my chest and dances around the room? Hopefully not, but I’m about to find out. ” –M.S., Los Angeles, Ca.
Everything Is Cool And Fine
“I haven’t been going to my weekly “namastay sober” yoga or reiki with my sobriety team, and I’m hesitant to go to one of my favorite yoga classes on Sunday because it’s usually a larger one with bodyworkers assisting a low-key practice. It’s both just what I want to do and what I’m scared to do. Boston is snowstorm quiet. I already work at home, but my neighborhood seems eerily quiet when I go out for a dog walk.
Not to mention the early spring.
Oh, and the 9/11 and hurricane nightmares are extremely cool and fine.” – G.C., Boston, Mass.