Chapter Eight

I’m feeling anxious about something. I don’t know what it is. It’s not that I’m booked in for voluntary work at the helpline tonight. I’ve done regular voluntary work for well over a year, and I don’t get nervous about it any more. It’s not that I’m feeling alone – I’ve been to lots of meetings this week and seen lots of friends. Maybe it’s the resentment I still hold against S and J, who I hardly see any more because I’ve started attending different meetings. Or maybe it’s that I still don’t have a job, and I’m nearly broke again. Despite that, I can’t stop myself from spending money. I’ve booked another weekend away for December, and I’ve bought tickets to see one of my favourite bands in concert in October. I thought my anxiety was getting better, but really it’s just the same as it always was. As soon as I get any money into my account, I spend it. Perhaps I should go to the fellowship for that – I’m sure I wouldn’t be out of place there. What would REALLY help is if I could find a job. But after all these months there still seems to be a shortage of vacancies around. And most of the applications that I send off now are only half-hearted, because part of me doesn’t know if I could cope with a job yet. Part of me loves being able to stay at home, write and read stories and listen to music all day. This has been my life for months, and I’m happy with it. I can’t help but think that a job would spoil my day. Life is as full as it ever was. It’s just a shame that there’s hardly any money to go around.

I hate the fact that my life is still ruled by money. If we didn’t live in a capitalist state where everyone is expected to work every hour of the day to support themselves, this wouldn’t be a problem. As it is, I’m technically a sub-functional adult, because I can’t get a job. I’ve tried for years. Nothing ever fits with me. The only thing I’ve ever loved doing is writing, but no one seems to think I really have a chance in that world. Well, I still have hope. The latest novel is going very well. I’ve reached chapter eight – a milestone that always seems to decide whether a story will be successful or not.

My resentments in AA are also slightly bothersome, though not as much as they were last week. I’ve had over a week to recover from my near breakdown last Tuesday. I’ve kept away from those meetings where I’m likely to see the people that I resent, and the anger and jealousy has slowly subsided. Last night I saw S and co. for the first time in days, and it was fine. I hardly spoke to them. We’ve drifted apart, I can’t deny it.

I only went to that meeting because my sponsor who’s just flown back from California said he would be there. It was lovely to see him again, and afterwards we had a lovely chat over pizza. We were with the clique, all of whom made a lot more noise than us. I realised that my new sponsor is just as introverted as me, which I found endearing. We have a lot in common; I never would have known. I’ve spoken to him about my resentments, and he understands fully, and he says maybe I should let those people drift if they want to. I’ve learnt in sobriety that leaving things to develop naturally is the best way – if my friendships with S and J are meant to tail off, then I have to let them.

I’ve changed my meetings around not just because of S and J; the other day I was talking about all the newcomers who’ve come into gay AA recently, and I realised how little a part of that crowd I am now. I think maybe I was a little harsh and judgmental of newcomers in general on Tuesday – I guess I’m just jealous that they all get to share at my home group now when I don’t. The solution I’ve found is to look for different meetings, and it’s nice to be able to go anywhere without feeling the old stranger anxiety. Last year I couldn’t walk into a single meeting that I didn’t know without having my hand held; it’s so different now. So much variety and choice is open to me now, thanks to recovery. The newcomers have all of that to look forward to, which is wonderful.

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