How I Earned My Seat

By Eddie Cohen

It was the best of times that inevitably would become the worst of times. By now, the Hippie movement of tuning in, turning on and dropping out was pretty much behind me, but ahead, there was still plenty of sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll to be conquered. It was the late 70’s, early 80’s, and I wasn’t quite 30 years of age. I’d spent at least half of my life exploring pathways under one influence or another.

My first 12 Step experiment was to be at a local Police & Fireman’s AA clubhouse. In that stuffy, noisy, smoke filled trailer, to avoid contact with the packed lunchtime crowd that gathered, I found a seat and focused on the 12 Steps poster displayed across from me. I wasn’t positive of the first two steps, and got up to leave when I read the third. If it wasn’t for a total stranger that literally grabbed my arm asking “where you going?”, I might have never returned. At that moment in time, it clearly would have been my greatest loss. I replied this didn’t seem to be for me. He convinced me to NOT introduce myself, NOT raise my hand and just LISTEN. He claimed I owed it to myself and asked me if after an hour, I might relate to something I’d heard. I haven’t had a drop of alcohol since.

The consensus of the older generation there, led me to believe there was a significant difference between alcohol and drugs. I was there because I was just another out of control drinker that wanted to learn how to taper my alcohol consumption. I was looking for a quick fix and not a reality check. I was eventually approached by a guy I’d been seeing around. He had taken me aside and introduced himself and said he’d been listening to me share for a while, and that I reminded him of himself. He said I wasn’t fooling anybody wearing sunglasses indoors. Turns out he was on to my attending the meetings high and he didn’t mind cutting to the chase. He warned me that I couldn’t keep one foot in and one foot out of the program; it just didn’t work that way. He said I needed to be completely honest with myself and remain abstinent from everything. Everything? But I wasn’t an addict. I’d never shot dope or steal from my friends and family to support a habit. I never begged for money or sold my body or slept in a car or a vacant house. I might wake up with a hangover but I couldn’t relate to being dope-sick. I never stood before a judge, did time, been through detox or end up in a rehab. He taught me that all my ‘I never’s are still could be’s!’ He showed me empathy and placed me under his wing. He took me around to meetings that became staples on my path to recovery through NA. He was the second recovering addict, a total stranger, that had reached out when they saw a newcomer unsure of himself, someone in need of direction and support; showing them it doesn’t have to be like that anymore. That’s what we do.

The phrase to Let Go, Let God was suggested frequently in both programs. It wasn’t something I could bring myself to do at the time, because I wasn’t invested in believing or letting go of anything. In fact, I’d spent my whole life sitting on some fence, just waiting for a sure sign of existence. I knew proof or solid evidence would be hard to come by. But for my foreseeable future, the plan was for me to Fake It Till I Made It. Even if I didn’t agree with the concept, I was encouraged to get with the program. A couple of years in, I even thought I’d experienced one of those Spiritual Awakenings I’d heard so much about. But after the short lived relief that I’d finally had one, I started to doubt its origins. Wasn’t it possible I’d experienced something out of sheer desperation? I didn’t really believe a miracle was bestowed upon me. So was my perception rooted in the power of suggestion? My own at that? It wasn’t the least bit subliminal either. Having destroyed yet  another relationship, I just couldn’t deal with the pain of heartbreak anymore, only now, I was faced with finding relief without resorting to the previous methods of escape I was preprogrammed to engage in. I’d tried praying, but I was no longer convinced that some sort of Divine overseer had my back. There’ll be no more rationalizing through Turning It Over. And forcing myself to justify something of this nature was now out of the question. I was finally coming to my senses and I would recognize IT, if and when IT happened, regardless of how long IT would take. I practiced many of the steps in daily life, but realized I’d only accepted the first two seriously. It was the third one that proved to be the hard line that I just couldn’t cross. When the time came, and I truly believed it would, I realized that I’d have to come off that fence and take the greatest leap of faith I could possibly have ever imagined; even greater than attempting recovery for that first time. This leap would put an end to the lifetime of uncertainty I’d come to possess. No longer would I half-heartedly Let Go, Let God. It was time to Let Go OF God. Don’t leave before the miracle happens? For me personally, I don’t believe in them or the power of prayer. Fake it till I make it? Really, again? Fool me once…

Like all of us, I’ve a lifetime of experience that serves as a guide for making meaningful decisions that I live with every day. When it comes down to it, either I believe in something and stand behind it, or I don’t. “I’m not quite so sure of that; let me overthink it” may be a comical way to approach doubt, yet the answer doesn’t always come to fruition before I end up dropping it from consideration altogether. There seems to be no moment of absolute certainty that I can rely on, so I’ve accepted the process of back and forth banter in my head, as long as it connects with what I feel in my soul. I’d now turned from reading for pleasure and escape, to gaining confidence through knowledge. I was challenging my beliefs and it was around this time that I began focusing on the secular aspect of life. I started questioning practically everything I’d thought meaningful to me. Now, when something made sense to me, and I felt it was based in truth and reality, I’d leave my old assumptions behind. I’d had found faith in myself. No need for the guidance from an imaginary source. I admit that I couldn’t achieve any balance in life on my own, but the power I’d come to recognize wasn’t of a higher nature. We’re all equal and it’s the shared strengths and weaknesses of those who have crossed paths with me, are here today and will be through those I’ve yet to meet. In any event, please, don’t get me started on religion.

Fast forward almost four decades, because that’s how long I’d maintained complete abstinence from any kind of habitual self harm. Now I had a chance to become one of those productive members of society. And in fact, I did. It allowed me to travel the world, actually buy a house and even get married. But unfortunately, after many years, I’d found my meetings had dwindled and I’d slipped away from the fellowship almost entirely. My circle of security had shrunk and I’d become complacent. I had alienated myself from the community that kept my life on a positive path.

Just prior to Covid, a reservation I’d concealed for ages wreaked havoc within me. I’d made a conscious decision to engage again, without ever considering what consequences lay in waiting. The disease is very patient and insidious, but doesn’t always lead to surrender so fast, if at all. I’d been as sick as my secret all along. I returned to my gateway drug of choice, weed. I was a stoner when I quit and found myself exactly where I’d left off at, in record time. Now, I’d lost everything I valued; my wife of 35 years which ended in divorce, all that emotional support, the pride I had in the time I’d accumulated, my financial security and any self-respect, self-worth and confidence that I’d earned prior to relapsing. If that wasn’t enough, I’d not only lost the ability to deal with life’s challenges; I’d now lost the willingness to live. My ex caught the first plane back to me after a distraught phone conversation she said we had, that to this day, I still don’t recall. I was diagnosed with a psychogenic amnesia disorder after I was released from suicide watch in a mental ward.

My ex and I have made a go of it again since the relapse. Now retired, she’d worked in the recovery field for decades as an independent addictions counselor. The discovery of cancer and the next five years of trying to find the right combination of treatments, dramatically reduced her ability to cope with everyday challenges we normally take for granted. I came clean and she tried hard to get over the fact I’d been using behind her back. I was very good at deception. Then, that same addictive personality in me considered this might be a good time (as if there was one), to convince her to try Medical Marijuana. For relief only, of course. Shamelessly, I would gain an active partner and become her legal caregiver regarding cannabis.

Post Covid, substance abuse related, she’d had enough, but I still hadn’t. After she received a clean bill of health, I knew she was struggling to get back on track, wanting nothing more than to give herself a fighting chance to regain some semblance of self. I tried to convince myself to abstain for a year and reevaluate where I was in life at that time. Knowing it was the right thing to do (and not wanting to lose her forever), I followed her example of returning to meetings; what I still believe is one of the most effective investments one could make to stay clean and change negative attitudes. Now I’m coming up on my third anniversary, several months behind hers. Of course this isn’t a contest and the dark humor I found, is that while approaching my seventy forth Bday (which turned out to be my chosen clean date), no matter what, I’ll never beat my earlier clean time. Not in this lifetime anyway.

BTW, my name is Eddie Cohen. Since my birthday falls on January first, I never really celebrated it as such. How could I ever compete with the one day, much of the world reacts as if it might be our last. In spite of the road I’d traveled, my interests really haven’t changed much throughout life. Books, film and music still occupy my time, along with watching sports; the difference now is I’m retired from the rat race. Practically all of the meetings I attend daily are secular. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’d like to believe the program is starting to walk its talk; that non-believers are welcomed, but if that were true, we wouldn’t require a special type of meeting. It’s up to all of us. I appreciate your letting me share my memories of the past and my hope for the future. Thank you.

For a PDF of this article, click here: How I Earned My  Seat.