A Story of Recovery:

Reaching Out

It was my second meeting. The woman who I sat next to asked for my number: “I am new and looking for people to call,” she said. I stiffened. How do I get out of this? Why would she want my number? Was she looking for friends? I didn’t want anything to do with some lonely person. “I’d rather not give out my number,” I said. I made a beeline for my car as soon as the meeting ended. 

A week later, I started program with a qualified sponsor. My sponsor told me about outreach calls, and now the woman’s asking for my number made sense. She wasn’t some “lonely person,” but rather working her tools. I didn’t have the humility then to see that I was the “lonely person” who did not pick up phone calls from family and friends.

I started a phone AWOL (A Way of Life) that first month. When it was time to put my name on a phone list, I balked: “I am not putting my name on a list that goes out to a bunch of strangers. I don’t want people calling me all the time.” What I meant, but did not say, was: I don’t want all these crazy people calling me all the time with their problems. My sponsor was great. She breezed: “Oh honey, they are all busy just like you. They don’t want to call anyone, just like you don’t. Most of us are isolators. It is hard at first.” She assured me: “Now it is just a natural part of my day.” That dreaded “flood” of outreach calls never came.

One fellow, on a qualification CD, said: “I was told early on in the program that the people who don’t make their outreach calls aren’t around in two years.” This has stuck with me. I have heard often in my seven months in program: “Just try it” and “This is where the willingness comes in.” I have to work hard and move through the awkwardness to make the connections. It is taking me some time to learn how to share and be authentic on these calls, but I am finding that often, my truth is spoken to me through others.

Recently, a woman on my phone AWOL called me. The details of our lives are not similar, yet we spoke easily. At the end of the call she summed up her story: “You have to stick to your convictions. And still be open.” That was just what I needed to hear. I smiled as we spoke—also what I needed.

The calls are what helped strengthen my program in the beginning. I called many people with long-term abstinence and they gave me priceless help: “No, when you weigh it can’t be 6.2 or 5.8 but exactly 6.” Oh. Everything I brought up, they had been there and now they had a strong program. They survived things that I thought would end the world, like using a scale at a family event, or not eating a dish that was so-and-so’s special act of love. These connections have taught me so much about being in the world—that I am just a person among persons—and have really helped keep me in the rooms and abstinent. I do my best to reach out, especially when I don’t feel like it, which translates into other parts of my life. As is said often in program: “My feelings are my feelings, my actions are my life.”