07/28/2019
At what point do we, who are in full-blown recovery, decide it is time to shut down a meeting?
I have been running a 12-Step Recovery meeting for over 4 years now. It was dropped into my lap when it was 8 months old, and I have carried it on my back all these years.
“Why?”
Well...
For starters, meditation has been one of THE BIGGEST tools I’ve had in my recovery. I wanted to keep the meeting alive and strong to allow others the opportunity to have, potentially, the same growth I had. I’ve seen the meeting grow, and shrink, and grow even more, and shrink down to only myself again. I’ve been okay with that all these years, knowing it was going to fluctuate based on holidays, seasons, and just by shear chance. I have believed, and continue to believe, that we need to keep the doors open, during any meeting, for that one straggler who’s coming in late, and who might finally hear what they need to hear to “get it.” Such was the case one evening as I spent a cold night in a dim room, waiting patiently for my Higher Power to put me to use. After sitting around for roughly 30 minutes, as I began to pack up, a guy walked in. I think he was less than a day sober. It was an important night for that young man.
Recently, however, I’ve been feeling... drained. I feel as though I am no longer getting any spiritual nourishment. As well, I feel like I have no more to give to it. The meeting attendance has shrunk to only myself again, and it has remained so. The core group it used to have has all left, some moving on to other meetings (which is understandably okay), some moving out of town, some growing too old to attend, and sadly—some going back out and dying. The meeting seems to be stunted, or maybe it has come to pass its maturity date, or possibly its lifespan. It has become apparent that no one else is even remotely interested in it, let alone willing to carrying it on.
I recognize that these things happen. It’s a part of the deal, it’s how it works. I understand that.
A new, “normal” 12-step recovery meeting has moved into the same building. It starts a half hour later than the meditation meeting, at the top of the hour. Most of the folks who walk into the meditation meeting and discover it’s an 11th step meeting, then turn around and leave, only to go wait for the newer meeting to start. But it’s all good, they are going where they need to be.
Maybe it’s a tap on my shoulder, a nudge on the door.
Perhaps I’m forcing the door to stay open. Perhaps it’s time for me to lovingly, heartbreakingly, close the door on this wonderful meeting, and stop trying to control what is “good for new comers.” There are numerous other meetings, and if a newcomer really wants it, they’ll find themselves at a meeting SOMEWHERE. Besides, with the new meeting in the same building, there is now no excuse that “there isn’t another meeting at this time” to help a new comer.
The other night, I hit an older, longer standing meeting. I went there at quite a late hour with a friend of mine who was picking up eight years (and yes, very exciting!). The topic for the evening? “Boundaries.” Some chatted about enforcing them, some about creating them, and some about making sure others knew what our boundaries actually were! But in particular, two folks discussed the “CLICK!” for me: setting personal boundaries, but for none other than... myself. Boundaries that I need to set, that I need to adhere to, that I needed in order to take care of what I needed.
Where, at what point, does personal boundaries and self-care divide? Or does it? Does it actually separate? I mean, there’s sleep (self care) - “Go to bed at 10:00, DL” (boundary); eating healthier (self-care) - “Eat a salad, DL” - (boundary); mingling with like-minded folks (self-care) - “Less TV, step out of the house, DL” (boundary). It seems like I revisit this realization more often than I’d like to account. I need to take care of me, or I cannot take care of others. The trick is — knowing where I have to start... and stop.
I mentioned all of this to my sponsor. His response went something along these lines:
“You already know the answer, DL. You just have to accept it. You need to take care of yourself, get some nourishment.”
A kitchen with no food feeds no one, including the chef.
Perhaps what is really in order here is that I need some spiritual nourishment, but I first need to find the time to do it.
Boundary: Stop trying to control the meeting’s final-fate - let go, trust, accept it, and... breathe.
I guess I’ll make an announcement at next weeks meeting. And then, just let go.
By the way, regarding that young man who walked into the meeting that night when I was about to pack up — he’s still sober to this day. In fact, I took his wedding photos just a few weeks ago. I’m grateful I get to see the growth!
Namasté
DL
