I’ve heard so many women say, “I don’t like talking to other women. Men understand me better. I don’t like women. They’re bitchy and catty.” Ahem. Really?  I said that once upon a time.  It was crap.  Filter of an alcohol tainted mind gone a little goofy.  I was afraid that a woman would see through my metaphorical malarky.  And truly I was projecting my OWN bitchy cattiness because my perception was one huge cluster of SICK.  Okay before I get protest letters … it’s NOT that men don’t have something to offer, they soooo do (ooh la la).  But for this chick, there was always the physical attraction thing that got in the way.

So tonight, I’m simply going to tell you a story. About my relationships with my sisters.  My family of choice.  About sticking with the women … of recovery.

There was once a young girl I knew. Well I was young also. Okay we were young and young in recovery … together.  She was bright and beautiful and amazing. I was best friends with her brother (who was also in recovery who I had a crush on omg) and her father was also in the rooms.  Her father had taken her and her brother to meetings since she was able to remember.  She knew exactly where to go when the proverbial “kaka” hit the fan.  Seeing as I was around and a friend of the family, it was her logical assumption that I’d be a good sponsor.

I can tell you I always felt inadequate. She had such a grace and subtlety about her which attracted the world to her in a way I’d never seen.  Guided through 12 steps with, thank g-d, the big book as our manual; we managed to get through it all together.  Sounding board, for she already knew most of her answers, I had no “advice” to give.  Wasn’t my job anyhow.  I did that whole “sponsor as mommy counselor” show. Ended very badly btw.

There was a moment in time where I sponsored ten girls at once.  Some can do it. I can’t.  Not a good multitasker, found out the hard way.  See once I began giving my “opinion” on things and spouting what I thought someone should do, I therefore became responsible for the outcome … somehow.  So after multiple “firings” (I despise that word actually … no one hired me) in a cluster of young peoples AA drama (imagine that?), I transitioned into a new phase of recovery.  This young girl … transitioned with me. K … back to the story.

I got the greatest gift from her. Never really told her so … until now. All those years ago, sixteen if I’m counting correctly.  Had the gift of watching her grow in recovery and in life, get married, have beautiful children.  Then it was my turn to do the marriage/family gig, and I was not so graceful; culminating in my relapse after 15 years sober story.  Blah. No rehashing.  Point is, I let that relationship go.  Lost touch and lost in shame and lost in “she can’t see me this way”.

I’m not sure if she knows but she was the best friend I ever had.   She sponsored me in more ways than I ever did for her, and now?  I see her at Founders Day and we talk every once in awhile on facebook; but it seems that time has made a mockery of me.  She’s everything I ever wanted to be and then some.  There are few people in life that I admire.  She is one and my current bff sponsor is another.

They both have that quiet dignity and calm that seems to elude me.  Serenity I believe it’s called. Current sponso-though she doesn’t think so … helps me in so many ways.  I’m a hard sell.  Not a joiner. Adore people and bask in the sunlight of recovery but it takes an awful lot to get and STAY close.  Pretty sure I’m not alone in this.  So … Kat (sponse) holds on loosely.  Let’s me be me.  Knows that I’ll always be around.  Surprisingly I’m not an “in your face” kinda chick.  She gets me.  Just like I “got” Liz.  Complete acceptance.  No matter what.  Transcending sponsor/sponsee into a familial like embrace. She literally held my hand two years ago when I was beaten like a dog.  Fed me the gift of life again and, in her elegant way, dispelled my shame.

With the two women that I’ve mentioned in this little ditty, I’ve connected in ways I’d never imagined. Strengthening me, succoring me, seeing me as equal. And I did/do the same in return.  I’m not sure if I’ve ever experienced unconditional in quite that way, before them.  Sisters in recovery. Let the cycle continue. I always miss you Liz, I’m so proud of who you are. And Kat … I thank the powers that be for you every single day.  Words can’t express my gratitude for you … and that’s saying a lot coming from a word whore such as myself.

Girls rule.