Page 34 of Outspoken

This is also something I hate about meetings.

Some are more overtly religious than others. This one emphasizes that they’re spiritual but not religious, so I’m curious how Eric will finish.

Once everyone has a hand to hold, he says, “Let's end with a reflection on Step One.”

Most people bow their heads. A few, like me, stare mindlessly into space.

“We admit that we are powerless over our addictions,” he says. “We ask for help in managing our lives and finding peace, offering ourselves to a greater force to lead us toward what we need. In surrender, we find strength. In admitting our weaknesses, we find hope. In hope we find a better tomorrow.”

I resist an eye roll. Who wants to be powerless? Not me. The whole point of rehab and doing all this shit is to gain control of my life. If I’m powerless over my addiction, doesn’t that mean it will ultimately win? Why try then?

Eric grins. “Thank you all for coming and sharing this moment.”

I release the hands I’m holding and snatch my leather jacket and purse from the back of my chair. I take a moment to breathe in the leather's relaxing, earthy vanilla scent. I might be obsessed—I can’t stop wearing this jacket, even when it doesn’t fit an outfit.

“Amber?” Eric says behind me.

I finish pulling on my jacket before turning around. I give him a forced, polite smile.

“Thank you for sharing your poem,” he says. “I believe I saw you at an AA meeting a while ago. Is this your first time at NA?”

“Yeah. I’m trying a few different groups to see if any are a good fit.”

His expression softens. “That can be tough, so I commend you for doing that.”

“Thanks.”

He waves goodbye to someone, then clasps his hands over his stomach, wrinkling his tropical shirt. “Your poem really resonated with me. Would you mind if I shared something with you that a mentor of mine once said?”

“Um, sure.”

Flashing his veneers, he says, “Let me give you some backstory. I’ve been in and out of rehab a few times. The last visit was ten years ago, and I haven’t had a relapse since. A lot of things needed to shift in my life to make that happen. I got married and had a child. I also made amends with several family members I had hurt in the past. Despite that, I didn't understand why I was suddenly resisting temptation better than before. My mentor at the time told me something that made it all click.”

He pauses for effect, and I lean a little closer, wondering. Socks-and-sandals guy stops near us, waiting for Eric to finish.

Eric gives him a nod and then turns back to me. “My mentor said something like this: A few lucky people are able to break their addictions the first time, never looking back and never relapsing. But that’s not typical. For most of us, avoiding addiction is a daily battle for a long time. Abusing drugs used to be a habit and a strong obsession in your life. When you get clean, that's suddenly gone, which creates a void.”

The word 'gone' echoes in my chest and I nod. It’s a word filled with too much emptiness—the darkness knocking to get in.

“Like with any habit, the cravings will linger,” Eric continues. “Recovery means learning to manage those urges when they come up. Addiction is a very powerful physical and mental force that’s always waiting in the background for an opportunity to ruin your life. That is, until you find something equally as powerful to replace it.”

I shove my hands in my jacket pockets, glad the jacket feels snug and secure around me because I'm feeling exposed. “Replace it with what?”

“It's different for everyone. For me, it was my wife and family. For others, it might be volunteering or their career. Some discover a passion for exercise or travel. It could be anything, but once you discover what that powerful force is for you, the cravings will become less and less until one day you'll realize you haven't thought about abusing substances in a really long time. That day will be one of the best days of your life.”

I nod again, stepping back and trying to ignore the chasm his words created. I’m not sure what to say. I can’t imagine anything powerful enough to stop the constant ache inside me.

“I hope to see you again,” Eric says before turning his attention to socks-and-sandals guy.

Zipping my jacket, I head outside into the chilly night, my feet dragging along the sidewalk as I trudge to my car.What’s something powerful in my life?Work is obviouslynotpowerful enough to replace my addiction, since I passed on a temp job today. I know it was stupid because I need the money. I just…Is there a point in working this hard? My future looks pretty bleak—one long march to death.

Every time I go to Writing 101, my chances of passing look slimmer. I swear, Mr. Williams scowls at me more, and he keeps calling on me in class to ask ridiculous questions about stuff we haven’t covered.

When that happened yesterday and I stumbled over a response, he turned to the class and said, “This is the reason we don’t nap during lectures.”

Several young, perky classmates laughed and my cheeks heated. I wanted to tear my notebook to shreds. I’ve never slept in class.

Of course, right after that, we got the results from our latest quiz. I failed, naturally. Maybe if I select the opposite of what I think the answers are, I'll actually pass.

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