I finally got to a meeting room yesterday, one that made me cry to be in because of what it once was to me. Yesterday’s weather was overcast and grey, and few people were there, and not all the lights were on.
It was dim, dark, and despair-filled compared to the other times I had entered that room. And I’m glad it was, since that was a room where I mourned a program friend so profoundly that I wondered then (and now) if people thought I was 13th Stepping with him. Despite the anxiety of knowing I was walking into a room I’d abandoned years ago, it was the best recovery-minded choice I’ve made in years.
After being numb for so long, feelings came back and I had to sit with them. And I am grateful, so humbly grateful, that I went yesterday afternoon.