It's Not About Me

I recall sitting near the back of one of my first AA meetings watching people go up to get different sobriety chips. I guess I'm supposed to do that too, I thought. The next evening, when the chair asked, "Is there anyone here who has a desire to stop drinking?" in my mind I yelled, "I do." But my feet felt glued to the floor. A large ball formed in my throat and I began getting all choked up. Tears began to run down my face. I'd seen people hugging here, so I made sure I was real still and quiet. I said to myself, "You chicken, you idiot, you fool! Get off your butt and get a chip." When the meeting was over, I waited until I saw the chairperson alone and asked for a chip. When he gave it to me, he told me to keep coming back and hugged me. That was awful. Now everyone knew. Why couldn't he just sneak the thing to me? Two days later I drank, took the chip in my hand, and flung it away. A lot of good that did.