Our snow is almost all gone, but after a few days of really nice weather, it’s gotten cold again. I’m really busy at work, and people from work are emailing even now, but it’s a good kind of busy. Carole’s on her way home soon after being away.
I wrote before about a woman I work with being on work release. I told her I’m in the program, and I asked her if she had a Big Book. She didn’t, so I got her one along with a stack of Grapevines for the place she has to live right now. She went waving the book down the hallway, full of people, thanking me.
Through the years I’ve told a few people I work with that I’m in the program. My work partner Irene is the only one there now who knows. Unless this new gal has spread the word, advertently in inadvertently. And apparently advertently isn’t a word.
I’m OK with that. I was trying to explain it to Carole recently. Because in my drinking history, I often lied about it when I messed up spectacularly, saying my medication was off, someone slipped me something. Oy. I did this in order to be able to drink again. Because if I admitted what was wrong, I couldn’t do it again. Telling the truth about why I don’t drink or, more often, admitting that I was drunk was an important step in my recovery.
That was a really long time ago, but I hold on to it. It’s so important, and so precious. To use a drippy metaphor it’s one of the stones in my foundation. No matter how strong the foundation is, I’m not pulling any brick out.
I realize that those thoughts don’t go seamlessly together. Woman at work waving a Big Book in the hall, and admitting I was under the influence rather than lying. I guess I mean that I strive to tell anyone who has a reason to know that I’m in the program, and if hallways of others find out in the process it’s OK by me.
And please stand by to see if it really does turn out OK.