OUT OF THE EYE OF THE STORM

              OUT OF THE EYE OF THE STORM

One would think that a hurricane would be an awful time for a drunk.  Perhaps it is... I don't remember now. Except to say that in the past when there were warnings of inclement weather, that never stopped me from preparing to have a well stocked wine cellar for the storm, (that is the storm that there would be if I ever ran out of booze).  And I know, (and every honest drunk that I know of will attest to this fact), that no blizzard, no hail storm, no hurricane ever stayed the course of my (his) search for an open liquor store if I (he) was in need of some shoring up of liquid courage.

But it wasn't alcohol, the fear of it or the lack of it that most of my friends were wary of this morning. Because of the damage that Sandy's wake left in our community, two men's meetings had to merge resulting in a lot of camaraderie among the attendees, most of whom had not seen each other in two years since the groups had originally split.

"I didn't remember that this meeting had such old men in it" chided Mack, himself approaching retirement as both his hoary hair and beard can attest to. Garson poked him with his cane and offered to lend it to him. "All in good fun, I'm just a dirty joke since I haven't had a shower in the past five days. No electricity since the beginning of the storm."

And with that the crowd feigned turned up noses and offered rude noises.

Before the meeting began, and prior to the AA Preamble, offers were made to share accommodations for hot showers, warm beds and food for those still without power now  more than five days since Sandy's passing.

With the meeting starting in earnest, the major complaint was that after the danger was gone, after establishing that life and limb were no longer at risk, after the excitement had died down and the crushing boredom of the perplexity of uncertainty that remained with us day in and day out, it became hard to maintain civility.  Being kind, patient and unflappable stopped being easy. Tempers were hard to contain.

What we had learned through the routine of daily AA practice, (practicing these principles in all our affairs), was becoming worn out because many of us were going without meetings. First many of us initially thought that our families needed us by their sides first and foremost.  Then there was the fact that many churches were as without electricity as we were and were forced to close. Then we became lazy and mistakenly thought that we could do without the meetings because we were needed at home more than at the meetings.

Until a week went by and suddenly we had become noticeably more touchy and  irritable. Not only were we primed by the circumstances of the storm but we are naturally predisposed to be disturbed because we are drunks and we do not handle stress, any stress particularly well. So where did we get this notion that we could go so long without a meeting? 

But there it is. We've set ourselves up for failure. But most of us don't because we try to catch the signs early...hungry, angry, tired and lonely.  And when all of those are present we slowly become fearful.  So we need to reassess, sit back and take stock.

I was ill for two weeks prior to the storm and I could not get up to get to a meeting. And I was too fatigued to get out to a meeting during the days either.  But I thought I could get through without too much harm.  And it seemed that since I had gone about two and a half years straight without missing a day that I had enough time saved up that I could miss a few days. 

And then just as I started to improve and return to my schedule, the storm hit and another four days without a meeting! 

The most amazing thing was I never thought about drinking but until I returned to my schedule I hadn't realized what I had been missing in my daily life.  I had forgotten the rough wisdom. The reminders that there are folks out there who are worse off than I am and when I am alone in my thoughts I tend to really focus on my own personal muddle.

With others I realize the world is much bigger than me; and my problems, although personally daunting, are only larger because they are viewed though my personal magnifiers. Those magnifiers tend toward a grandiosity that is of greater proportions than the rest of the world because it has my peculiar proclivity with which to view them.

But this storm is a sobering reminder of the power of nature and the power of things other than myself. And that's a good thing to remember when my personality gets beyond the capacity of my emotional superstructure to contain it.

 

© res 11/3/2012