There are a lot of different types of alcoholics. Some of us hid behind socially acceptable beer and wine while others were known for their love of Long Island Iced Teas. There are alcoholics who can’t hold down a job and ones that head up major corporations. Some don’t stop drinking until they are good and sloppy and others keep their composure 12 drinks in. But if there is one common bond amongst all alcoholics, it is fear.
It sounds silly, even to me (someone who has battled it over and over again in sobriety) but fear is what I believe is underneath most abhorrent alcoholic behavior (well, that and acute self-centeredness). Fear of what, you might ask? Sadly, everything and anything—from failure to success, abandonment to commitment, sadness to happiness, pain to pleasure, image to invisibility. We want it all and none of it at the same time. Most of us weren’t aware of it, but we drank because we didn’t like to feel—bad or good. And now that we are sober, we have learned that alcoholism is more than a drinking problem, it’s a motherf**ker of an illness that tells us horrible stories and assures us they are reality. And because we aren’t drunk or high, we hear them loud and clear. The trick is to learn to understand that these things—most likely—aren’t true.
Case in point: a year-and-a-half ago, I needed a new sponsor. Not that there was anything wrong with my sponsor at the time—she was incredible and molded me into the dignified sober woman I am today (hold for laugh)—but because of her help I had evolved to a point where I need something different. I was feeling arrested (figuratively speaking now) in the area of relationships and I knew I would benefit from a sponsor who had a lot of experience in that area.
It was simple enough—all I had to do was go to a few new meetings, identify a woman who had what I was looking for and ask her to be my new sponsor. After all, that is what we do in 12-step: we talk to people and ask for help. So why have I still not been able to do it?
It’s embarrassing to admit that I am afraid. I am afraid I will get rejected—or worse that I will ask someone to sponsor me and she will say yes because she knows she is supposed to but secretly hopes I never call because she finds sponsoring stressful, time consuming and annoying. But people always share openly about how grateful they are for their sponsees so why would I ever think that? Because that is exactly how I feel about sponsoring (current sponsees exempt—love you, mean it!)
I am scared that this new woman will sign on to work with me and then I will never call her—like I have done with countless sponsors in the past—and that will be an ongoing source of anxiety and shame for me. I am terrified that if I do finally get the courage of to call her, she won’t pick up and when she calls me back, I will let it go to voicemail and I will never call her back. I am afraid that if we do talk, she will want me to start working on my steps again—or worse, have to start all over again (which I probably need to do). I am scared she will hate me but feel obligated by me. I am afraid she will be happily married and resent my promiscuity with men who have live-in girlfriends or aren’t legally divorced.
When I write out all my but-what-ifs on the page they seem childish and laughable—which they are—but they have power in my life as they have held me back from moving forward in my program for the last 18 months. Of course, I am still technically with the same gal I have been with for six years; I just don’t call her.
For whatever reason, talking on the phone is a huge problem for me. I don’t know when this started exactly—I used to be quite the chatty Kathy—but I think the phobia began to develop a year or so before I quit drinking. Not sure what the pathos behind this is but talking on the phone gives me a lot of anxiety and makes me feel very put out. One theory of mine is that I have ADHD and so I am not able to multi-task anything (except maybe a hand job/blow job combo)—and a phone call means I have to stop everything I am doing and concentrate on the call. This is very inconvenient when you are trying to get enough things done in a day so you don’t feel like a total loser.
Another theory I have is that—because of my incompetence with boundary setting and asking for things I need—I will find myself on a call with a friend who is 15 minutes into a passionate, multi-faceted, detailed recount of how she ran into a former Tinder date (whom she once had sex with in the back of a Uber and never called her again) at a doctor’s office and how awkward it was because he was with his new girlfriend who she knew from college and hated. Believe it or not, stories like this—which are common amongst females—don’t leave much space for an appropriate signal that you need to get off the phone and get on with your life.
Richard Carlson tells us not to sweat the small stuff, but when seemingly small stuff—like returning phone calls or reaching out to another alcoholic for help—costs us big stuff like friendships, serenity or (God forbid) sobriety, are we still not supposed to sweat it?
I say no. But writing this out didn’t inspire me to call my sponsor. Call me a work in progress.
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