Page 104 of The Darkness Within

“The man that’s sitting in his seat today is not the same man I met twelve months ago. Not even close. This man is no longer in denial, although he still thinks the coffee tastes like shit. He’s learned how to surrender and ask for help. He’s had a spiritual awakening that changed him. He has friends and commitments and responsibilities, and most importantly, he likes the man he sees in the mirror. I couldn’t be more proud of my Sponsee. Everyone told me not to do it, that I should know better than to fall in love with him, but how could I not? How could I not fall in love with him when everything about him convinced me that he was the other half of my soul. That God put him here, in my way, just for me. For me, and for him.” Brewer chokes up, and tears gather in his eyes, just like they're gathering in mine.

“I knew you had it in you to become the man that you are today. I saw all that potential inside of you when I met you, and you didn’t disappoint. You’ll never disappoint me. Come on up here, Nash, and tell us how you did it.”

Fuck, how can I speak with my throat closed up, and now I’m crying. Son of a bitch.

Everyone claps and slaps me on the back as I make my way down the row, and down the aisle, to the front of the room. The hug that Brewer gives me feels so good that I don’t want to let go. He squeezes me for all he’s worth. I guess he’s pouring all of his love into it. When I pull back, he places a gold medallion in my palm. In the center is the Narcotics Anonymous symbol, a diamond, with the Roman numeral one etched inside. Around the perimeter of the diamond are the core principles of the program.

Self

God

Society

Service

Freedom

Goodwill

These are the cornerstones that have helped shape me into the man that I’ve become this year.

Wrapping my fingers around the medallion, I slip it into my pocket, beside the original white chip that Brewer gave me when I first surrendered. A token I carry with me every day.

Brewer takes his seat, and it’s my turn. It takes me a couple of tries before I can speak. I swallow twice more, take a deep breath, and dry my eyes again. Then I clear my throat.

“My name is Nash, and I’m an addict. I can’t believe it’s been a whole year. Life has a funny way of blindsiding you, and you never know what’s coming around the corner. When I was shipped back stateside, my life became a series of events I never could have planned for or imagined. And each one set in motion the next, and the next, and they brought me to where I am today. I was given the most belligerent and caring nurse in the hospital who hooked me up with a place to stay. That place came with an undercover Angel as my next-door neighbor, who saved my ass when I threw a shovel in the wall. Then he dragged me to a place that became my salvation, a support group of men who always have my back, and that’s when I met Brewer. He showed me how to recover, how to surrender, and he showed me how to love myself again.”

My voice cracks on the last word, and tears roll down my cheeks. I don’t even try to wipe them away this time, fuck it, let them fall. There will be more. Clearing my throat, I drag another deep breath into my lungs and continue.

“I never would have thought I could recover. I was in a dark, dark place, and as miserable as I was, I was fine staying there. I guess I thought I deserved it. But Brewer showed me another way. If you’re sitting here tonight, wondering if this program really works and if it could work for you, believe me when I tell you that I am the last person who thought he could recover. Never in a million years would I have guessed that I would be standing here tonight telling my story. I promise you, if you just keep coming back, this program works. You can recover.”

Another deep breath. You can do this, Nash.

“Brewer said I was in denial when I first came in. He’s right, I was pissed off at the world and pissed off at myself even more, and you can’t believe how pissed off I was at God. I sat in the back and didn’t want to hear a fucking thing. And yeah, the coffee tastes like shit. The only reason I kept coming back was because he dragged me with him, and I would follow that man anywhere. This place is a lot like gardening, a passion of mine that I’ve discovered since being clean. Little-by-little, the things said here were like tiny seeds being planted in my mind. All the serenity prayers, and the clichés, and people sharing their stories, all the coffee and the hugs and the reading of the literature, they stuck underneath my skin like porcupine quills, and they began to take root. Slowly but surely, I began to listen with an open mind, and as I started to work the twelve steps, I began to listen with an open heart. Each step, each meeting, each friend I made, changed me little by little. Every hug I received repaired a little broken piece of my soul.”

I have to stop and get myself under control so I can continue. Each breath feels like a struggle because my chest feels so heavy.

“Now, twelve months later, my soul is mostly intact, held together with superglue and duct tape, but at least it resembles a soul. Most importantly, I’ve found peace, and I’ve forgiven God and myself. I’ve learned to love myself again. Forgiving myself was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but it changed my life. If you’re sitting here tonight, feeling miserable and lost and alone, I want you to raise your hand so that I know who you are, and I can find you after the meeting and give you a hug. Each hug is a tiny seed that I want to share with you. It’s like they say, it works if you work it, so work it, you’re worth it. I used to laugh at that and think it sounded like fucking nonsense, but I swear to God, you are worth it, and it does work. Again, my name is Nash and I’m an addict in recovery. Thanks for letting me share. Keep coming back.”

As I make my way down the aisle, I’m bombarded with people giving me hugs and shaking my hand. And when I get to my row, they come to their feet and tackle me in a dog pile of love and hugs and praise. That’s when I fucking lose my shit completely, letting the tears flow unchecked.

I did it. I fucking did it. And I have to keep doing it every day for the rest of my life if I want to keep what I have, and I do, more than anything.

The meeting wraps up, and we make plans to go out to eat and celebrate. It takes another twenty minutes to walk to our car because I have to pass through a throng of well-meaning addicts who want to recall every one of my worst moments, teasing me good-naturedly.

“How are you feeling?” Brewer asks, checking in.

Fastening my seatbelt, I let out a deep breath. “That was a lot. I can’t believe I did that. Twelve fucking months, Brewer.” Slipping the medallion from my pocket, I clutch it in my palm, reading the words etched into the shiny surface. Each one resonates deep within me. “You know, you’re as responsible for this as I am. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Brewer places his hand over mine, squeezing. The way he looks at me, with all that love, is enough to melt my heart into a puddle in my chest.

“I can’t do the rest of my life without you,” he vows, kissing my knuckles.

THE END