Alcoholics Anonymous wasn’t something I had ever thought I would do. Even while I was going through treatment, I had refused to attend the meetings we had at our facility. But as soon as I got home, I realized I needed more help than my family was able to provide. They loved me. They unconditionally loved me, but that didn’t mean they understood what it was like to be an alcoholic. I had to find people to talk to, and eventually, that landed me at AA meetings.
“Nice of you to join us, Cassidy,” Krysta, the head of our local AA meeting, said as I burst through the door about ten minutes late.
“Better late than never,” I said with a smile.
“Very true. We are glad you made it.”
My Monday night meeting was by far my favorite. It seemed to have a lot more people in it and we all had gone through so much together. Many of the people there had been sober for years longer than I had. But there were new people there, as well. Monday was a poplar meeting for people who only came to one meeting a week. They could come, get their plan for the week, and focus on their sobriety.
I preferred to go to two or three meetings a week, but I was fairly new at the sobriety thing and really wanted to make sure I was on the right path. I couldn’t afford to fall off the wagon. I had a great job, my family was supportive, and I was applying to colleges. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my life, but I knew I wanted to go to college and get my degree.
When it was my turn to talk, I was about to pass, but then decided I wanted some feedback from the group. I didn’t always speak up in my meetings. People weren’t my favorite, especially people outside of my small group of friends and family. But over the previous months, I had become more comfortable in my AA group and I had made more and more of an effort to connect with the members in there. I was searching for more sober friends.
Kaitlin was a great person and she never drank around me. But she still liked to drink and didn’t have an addiction like I did. We struggled to find things to do because she always wanted to go out dancing at a bar, and I couldn’t stand the idea of entering a bar. We were working on it, though. She would come with me to do boring things, like read books at the local bookstore, and I would go with her to horrible hot yoga.
“Hi. I’m Cassidy, and I’m an alcoholic,” I said as I stood up.
“Hi, Cassidy,” the group replied.
“I’ve applied to a couple colleges, and I’m deadly afraid that I’ll get accepted. How on earth am I going to stay sober on a college campus? They are filled with parties all the time.”
“You’ll find your support network,” one younger man said. “When I started at the University of Colorado, the very first thing I did was find all the local AA meetings. I also got myself an individual counselor at the school. It was free of charge.”
“I also went to a counselor while I was in college,” another woman said.
“I’ve never been fond of the whole talking about your problems thing,” I said.
“Well, you need to get over that. If you’re serious about your sobriety, you’ll suck it up and do whatever it takes.”
“Thanks, guys,” I said as I sat back down.
That was exactly why I loved coming to my AA meetings. They were becoming friends who always had the best advice for staying on the right path. Kaitlin couldn’t give me the advice I needed sometimes because she hadn’t struggled with addiction like I had. She meant well and I know she tried, but someone who hadn’t truly struggled with an addiction had a hard time understanding how totally consuming it could be.
After my meeting, I always felt even more committed to my sobriety and energized for the next few days. I was so glad I had the support I did in my life. It was one of the things that helped me be so compassionate towards the people at Paradise Peak. Having a good support system was one of the most important things for anyone to stay sober. I firmly believed that.
Just as I had made it to my car and was about to head home, my cell phone rang. I contemplated not answering it when I saw that it was work. Tomorrow was supposed to be my day off, but the only reason work would be calling me was because someone had called in sick.
It was amazing to me how many sick days some of my coworkers took. What was mor
e amazing was that they still had jobs, but then again, there weren’t all that many regulars that lived in Aspen and weren’t working on the ski slopes or in the stores during the winter; Mr. March probably couldn’t fire people because he needed the staff so much.
“Hello,” I said as I winced in anticipation of what Mr. March was going to say.
“Can you work tomorrow?” Mr. March asked without any preamble to his request.
“Nope, I’m relaxing tomorrow. I’ve worked the last seven days. Remember?”
“Cassidy, there’s no one else.”
“Why can’t Adam work?”
“His grandmother died.”
“His grandmother died six months ago. He’s using that excuse again?” I exclaimed.
I was just giving Mr. March a hard time. I was going to work. Overtime pay was time and a half and it was almost Christmas, so I liked to get a little extra cash for buying my friends and family presents.
Buying things had become my new addiction. There was always something that replaced the old one. Some people got into working out all the time. Some people started hobbies. Others had affairs or got wrapped up in whole sex thing. I figured my little shopping addiction was pretty safe.