October 13th, 2019

October 13th, 2019, that was the day I walked into an AA meeting. It was either that or suicide. Those first three days all I could manage to do was spend my time hitting those rooms. Crying eventually turned to sounds of a toad, my body had nothing left to give. My first meeting is where I met her. Met her is an over-statement. I couldn't talk much. She walked in like a movie star. She was quiet but I knew she had entered without seeing her. She sat one chair away from me, that chair remaining empty. We were the only women in that room. She slipped me a note at the end of our meeting and walked out just like she had arrived. You felt her exit. In the note was her name, her number, and the message that I could call her anytime. I knew she meant it. This was so unfamiliar to me. I finally felt a release of some pain. By the time I got outside to maybe try and say something she was a silhouette surrounded by sun. She turned down a side street. She was a scene from a movie. She is always a scene from a movie.

She helped me that first night. She helped me get through those first few days, which turned into weeks, and then months. She was there every time I wanted to give up. She wouldn't even let me think of it. She encouraged my love of plants and I fondly remember the day we fit a small tree into her car and giggled the whole time.  A few months ago I was told she had relapsed.

~

I met him at meeting two. I knew from watching him that he was carrying pain. He smiled and laughed though and that was nice to see. We both headed straight towards the coffee and then sat at opposite sides of the room. During that meeting I entered back into crying. He was watching me, I felt like everyone was watching or trying not to watch. I was wiping snot on my pants. I don't even remember when I last washed my hair, but he wasn't staring at me with pity or disgust. He just looked sad. He slipped me a note with his name, his number, and a message that said I could call him anytime. I knew he meant it too.

He helped me that first night. He helped me that second day.  We poured our coffee together. We sat together. When he realized I was running on empty he found me a way to get home to pick up a few things. (I was staying with an old roommate due to my failing relationship.) He reminded me I needed to eat and that I needed more than coffee. He kept me going. Yesterday, I found out he tried to commit suicide.

~

That date, October 13th, 2019; no longer feels like a beacon of hope. It is the beginning of a countdown. When will I relapse? When will I decide to end things? She is strong and magnificent. He is capable of compassion in a world that tries to stomp that out. Who am I? Can I even be who I need me to be?