Abegail Elizabeth

exploring labor, feminism and sobriety through writing and art

That is a Sign

The Thursday I chose to go to my first AA meeting was one of those luscious spring evenings, with riots of green grass and a falling twilight of lilac, violet and blue. I walked from my house, anxiety snaking around my wrists and climbing my arms. I wasn’t sure what to expect, though I had looked up the address of the church. I imagined I would see people milling about outside of an open basement door, a cloud of smoke hanging above their heads. Perhaps there would be a sign, helpfully pointing the way.

When I arrived though, I found no propped open door, or groups of people with small styrofoam cups of coffee in their hands. The church in question was a stately affair on the corner of two busy streets in the Shadyside neighborhood, and I traipsed around to each of the grand wooden doors, tugging with futility on the heavy metal rings that served as door handles. I walked around to the administrative office and rang the intercom, the buzz yielding no response, but also embarrassingly, not turning off. The buzzer echoed behind me as I hurried away from the door, my face red as I pulled out my phone to double check the Pittsburgh AA website. I realized that there were two links, one for in person meetings and one for online meetings. I figured that the website hadn’t been updated and this meeting, though listed, was not actually happening.

Slightly dejected, I started walking back towards my house. Earlier in the week I had met with a friend and his partner, each of them with a number of years clean under their belts. He had offered to go with me to my first meeting, but I had declined; partially because I didn’t want to be accountable to him to follow through. In the further falling twilight, I wished I had accepted his offer. 

Walking alone, I felt conflicted. “Maybe I don’t need this. I am not even sure I have a problem with alcohol. That bottle of Jameson has been on top of my refrigerator for the last week and I haven’t touched it. 

My mind wandered as my eyes caught on one of the neighborhood’s Little Free Libraries, which I loved. I kept walking but I had seen, just briefly enough, a copy of the “Big Book” tucked on the bottom shelf, its blue jacket and yellow lettering seeming to glitter from within.

Another voice, not quite my own, piped up in my mind, “That’s a sign. Turn around and get that book.” And so I did, carrying it all the way home as if it were a prized possession.

Once home, I threw myself on the couch and eyed the book, first removing it’s dust jacket and then flipping through the pages. I felt a restless energy vibrate under my skin. I had committed to going to a meeting and as a result of circumstances beyond my control, I ended up not attending one. I had spent a lot of time over the past year working on my own personal follow through and I sensed that this was a pivotal moment which I needed to see through. The Big Book shimmered next to me and I picked up my phone, checking the AA website again, this time for online meetings.

I didn’t fully know the jargon: closed meetings, Big Book discussion meetings, speaker meetings, literature meetings, step work meetings. I couldn’t tell which meetings were fully remote or hybrid. It was 7:57pm and I only had a moment to choose one and log in. Grabbing my computer I selected one at random and joined. The room opened and I was peering into an in-person meeting set in a light gray room. Voices echoed and murmured through the speakers before someone called the meeting into order, opening with the serenity prayer.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, 

and the wisdom to know the difference.

The meeting continued over the next hour and it primarily featured a couple sharing their own personal story of coming into AA. I listened with some interest, but I could still hear the voices in my own mind; picking at the language they chose to use, the references to a Higher Power, the still viable possibility that I wasn’t actually an alcoholic and didn’t really need this. 

The meeting ended with another round of the serenity prayer. I logged off. I was fifteen days sober, but I wasn’t sure if this was for me.