The Strength of a Phone Call
It taught me how to reach out, how to share myself and my feelings.
Last winter, when the electricity was shut off because the bills hadn't been paid, I sat in my dark kitchen and froze. My old instinct was to handle it alone, to "tough it out" so the neighbors wouldn’t suspect our secret. I felt a familiar, paralyzing shame that told me my problems were a burden and my struggle was a failure. I was so used to being the "strong one" that I had become a prisoner of my own self-reliance.
Instead of staying in that darkroom of isolation, I remembered a conversation with my sponsor about the power of being vulnerable. With shaking hands, I called a friend from my Tuesday night meeting. I didn’t ask her to pay the bill; I simply shared that I was scared and overwhelmed. To my surprise, the world didn't end when I admitted I couldn't do it all. She listened without judgment, and for the first time, I felt the heavy weight of the "secret" lift. Today, I know that "reaching out is my responsibility, but the outcome belongs to my Higher Power." I no longer have to be the manager of the universe to be worthy of support.
Today, I will trade my isolation for connection. If I feel myself starting to "push through" a difficult emotion or situation alone, I will pause and reach out to a member of the program. I choose to believe that my voice matters and that I am never truly alone in my recovery.
