7 months, 11 days

Good day today. I visited my doctor this morning to talk about therapy as arranged. I was a little annoyed to be seen nearly an hour late, but not surprised as this sort of thing usually happens when I go there. I always get the impression that my doctor is rushed off his feet. It made me feel a little bad for going without a visible physical ailment, but I stuck to my guns and went through with the visit anyway. When I was finally seen I talked for a minute about why I thought I needed to go back into therapy. Unfortunately because of my nerves I forgot some of what I wanted to say, and it didn’t seem to come out right. I felt like I was in a job interview. When I’d finished he asked me to go away and write him a succinct letter with all the reasons why I think I’d benefit from counselling. He says he’ll pass it onto the resident counsellor that they have at the clinic, who will then make an appointment with me for a proper assessment.

I have no idea whether I’ll hear from the resident counsellor or not. The doctor could just have been trying to get rid of me, because he had better things to do with his time. It seemed odd that he would have no training whatsoever to make an assessment himself. Then again, maybe he really was rushed off his feet and thought a letter would be a quicker way of doing it. I don’t know. I hope I get an appointment, but if I don’t, I guess it’s not to be.

Meeting went well tonight. I think I got slightly better at my job as literature secretary today. During the break in the meeting I managed to approach a newcomer and sell them a copy of the Big Book. I never knew I had sales skills in me! It was a proper conversation, with me introducing myself and asking about his recovery.

Unfortunately the meeting is running very low on literature at the minute and we’re still waiting for a new batch to arrive, three weeks after the order was put in. A part of me will continue to be anxious about it until the new books actually arrive. I worry that I will begin to be blamed the longer this goes on. It is a meeting for newcomers, who need to have access to AA literature more than anyone else, after all. No one’s picked me up on it yet – perhaps the people in charge of the meeting know an order has been put in, or perhaps it’s not so much a problem to them. If the secretary does pick me up on it next week I know what I’ll say: that we’re still waiting on the literature office to send the stuff. But the old part of me is scared of a confrontation developing. It’s another one of those things that I will just have to pray on. This is what scares me about responsibility, the fact that I’m actually accountable for something. But I’m staying in the role, I’m not running away from it.


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