12 Aug 2010
‘Me Transistor’
I was not one of those that got recovery straight away, it took 8 relapses over a 14 month period while attending Alcoholics Anonymous Meetings for me to find NA, my spiritual home. It took me a while to surrender the lot.In the end there was no choice, except live or die.
As long as we don’t pick up that first drug . . . . I haven’t and I’ve been clean of all drugs ever since. Booze was just fancy dress to the inner despair around using. In that awakening daze of discontent I had to admit financial defeat and sell the contents of my flat in order to eat and pay rent. I had no money a few days before Christmas and someone offered me a seat at their table and a week stay in Brighton, fares paid.
Before traveling, my recovery sponsor suggested I went to a meeting in London, as I was less than 90 days clean. I don’t think she heard me when I said I had no money for the tube. She did, and said WALK there. Christ! . . the meeting was in Camden Town and I lived close to Archway. WALK there? It was miles. Well it was for someone born to taxi, who had to support 5 Bank Accounts and 15 Credit Cards. WALK?
It was harshly cold but I must have had the desire. I put on my leather padded zipped up to the neck blouson jacket ( well it was 1982 ) from Harrods and placed the sponge earphones from my SONY Walkman onto my ears for extra warmth as I walked to Camden Town. The meeting was called " a one bar electric fire meeting " for a reason. Bare boards, light green scuffed walls, a wobbly table with a huge battered kettle that even Mrs Bridges couldn’t lift. There was a similar NA meeting at the time – Monday night Millman Street Men’s Hostel in Chelsea, known throughout fellowship as a " wee-wee & wino meeting ". It smelt of damp and cabbage. Thankfully messages get carried in the strangest of places. Camden Town Meeting had a Millman Street ring to it, as many of the seats were taken by old alkies living round the corner in Arlington House, formerly Rowton House in Arlington Road. Some were silent while others ranted during the meeting munching on biscuits and steaming mugs of brew from said kettle.
I knew a few faces and nodded. One regular was " ‘arry from Archway.
Archway Harry was in his late sixties and been in prison most of his life. He always spoke first. We always waited for his Yorkshire tones to boom the room. He started. " Me names ‘arry and I’m ever so grateful. He went on to share how he was in Arlington House with his own room but best of all he had his OWN TRANSISTOR RADIO. He proceeded to tell all that he had never owned one and how not drinking and attending recovery support meetings had not only saved his life but he had his own radio. " Me Transitor " Harry always ended his share by saying " I’m so happy ". It was Harry’s tagline and signalled the end of speaking.Harry’s gratitude held me in a trance as I touched my warm leather jacket, my Sony Walkman and my oncoming Christmas trip to Brighton, all paid for by a supportive friend. Then I got it. I was so happy too. I caught " Harry’s infection " and still remember his unkempt hair, his broken teeth and his transistor radio that he showed to everyone like a beaming parent. I still need the memory of Harry, the welcome teapot and open generosity of sharing to keep my life in emotional and spiritual balance. I still need to be reminded that during that 1982 Christmas period I thought I would never make it, my arrogance and shame too overwhelming, my finances too much like telephone numbers and the simplicity of what was suggested too infantile.
But I did make it, even though far worse challenges were to come. Someone said ‘The power behind you is greater than the task ahead of you’, and I took it on blind faith.
In those early days when NA had only one recovery meeting a day in far spread London many of us gained experience in " the other fellowship" from the likes of Harry, in corridors we would never had entered in our middle class lives, hearing stories that we had no similarity with but knew there was no difference between our journeys. Within those grimy down-and-out Camden, Kings Cross and St Pancras Hospital meetings I found a generosity of spirit that I never found in an overflowing glass, from people I would never have mixed with.
In years to come I would go bankrupt in the High Court, wear other peoples clothes in jumble sales, have no credit anywhere for 5 years and after 11 years recovery found myself in a homeless hostel. I eventually got my own flat and for months only had one single bed, one chair and a kitchen table. Someone said " do you want an old Transistor Radio? I looked up to the heavens and said " thanks ‘arry "and laughed out loud. Humility and gratitude is greater than diamonds.
?Me Transistor?…
I found your entry interesting do I’ve added a Trackback to it on my weblog
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Beat Alcoholism 101
August 13th, 2010 at 4:49 ampermalink
Many thanks – Keep Coming Back!
theswarmite
August 13th, 2010 at 1:59 pmpermalink