Thursday, June 13, 2013

New post on Challenging Addiction


by April Pfrogner


My first sponsor was a hammer.  She defied the definition of sponsor as we know it from recovery literature. Because I had no idea what the “next right thing” was, I did whatever she told me to do. She had three years clean and sober, so to me, she knew everything. I met her while in a recovery home. She defied the rules by secretly becoming my sponsor and friend. Then I left the place at three months clean, against the advice of the director, to move into her apartment. I had a crappy job at the time and she told me I had to split the rent. I did. The woman had next to nothing but what she had, she appreciated. I felt blessed that she would trust me to live there too. She put a 10pm curfew on me and said if I broke it, I was OUT! When I whined, she told me to shut the hell up and go to a meeting. When I was bored, she found me something to do. When I lacked spirituality, she told me to pray and get my ass to church. She was there that fine day when step one “happened” to me. People thought we were lesbians because we were always together. I really didn’t give a crap.
She didn’t sugar coat it. Most sponsors give “advice” nicely, as not to offend. Being offensive was this woman’s middle name. I needed it though. I was a know-it-all who knew nothing. Compliments were few and far between but when she gave them, she meant it.
After a few years I moved back to my hometown. Something was going on with her and I didn’t like it. At five years clean she was slipping back into old behaviors. I got another sponsor. This woman who was a HAMMER of a sponsor, who went over and above the call of duty, relapsed. Our mutual friend called me one morning to tell me the bad news. This woman had had a spiritual awakening?! How could she just throw it all away? I was crushed to think she went back out. Situations like these remind me that I am never well enough to do without the program of recovery. The day I’m well enough will never come. I think of her when I don’t want to go to a meeting or work steps. I remember the hammer that she was, but also that she GOT hammered. She fell of the pedestal I had created for her. Her final lesson to me was that no one is immune from relapse, not even the best and brightest of the crowd. --Anonymous
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