In AA there is a chip system designed to mark one's time in sobriety. As of today, I have amassed 55, 24-hour periods of sobriety, consecutively, and have received 2 chips and one candle to signify the two milestones that I have reached in this period of time. The White Chip (pictured to the left, at the bottom of the row) signifies "A desire to quit drinking or to give this way of life (i.e. sobriety) a try for 24 hours." I picked this chip up at my first meeting ever on Tuesday December 22, 2009 at the 8111 Club in Dunwoody, GA. There had been no pressure from the group to do so. It was an "open meeting" meaning that anyone can attend, whether they are actually interested in quitting drinking or not. I had come from my parents' home in Roswell, having just had a "discussion" with my parents about my situation and my desire to enter a treatment center to help me address my issues with alcohol. Upon my departure from my parents' home, it was not apparent, whatsoever in fact, that I would be receiving the support that I had requested from them in this life-changing effort. Tempers had been hot and things had been said that shouldn't have, from all parties concerned. It was not even guaranteed that I would be allowed to stay there under their roof after the morning of the 26th.
In the face of all this, I entered the Club and took a seat in the second row. To be completely honest, I have no idea what was said during the meeting or how many people were there, as I was all up in my head, considering to myself all that had recently transpired which had led me to take a seat in that chair, at that moment in time. I do know that at some point I was moved to share with the group what it was that I was going through. I raised my hand, opened my mouth and blurted out, "Hi. I'm Warren and I'm an alcoholic." I stumbled a bit over these words, but they were met by a round of friendly faces and kind salutations from around the room. "Hi, Warren," Everyone said! Then, as if I had just been given the Heimlich Maneuver by some benevolent spirit, words began to fly out of my mouth and scatter themselves around the room, piling up on top of each other as they broke free from my windpipe. I have no idea how long I spoke. It could have been five-minutes, it could have been fifteen. Normally, attendees are asked to keep their sharing to 3-4 minutes, but I know that I spoke for significantly longer than that. But no one made any attempt to silence me, and I eventually sputtered out and came to a close as nine years worth of obstruction lay in heaps around the room. I figured that I would be met with silence after this lengthy confession of all my troubles, but once again, my words were met with choruses of "Thanks for sharing, Warren," "Glad you're here," and "Keep coming back!" I then sat in a vacuum free of noise and thought for the rest of the meeting, however short or long it was, I have no idea.
At the close of the hour, the Chips were handed out, and as the speaker finished uttering the words, "...for 24 hours," I felt myself stand up and walk to the front of the room, face flushed and eyes watering, where I was met with loud whoops and applause, a White Chip, a warm hug, and a whisper of encouragement. I turned, after this, holding back tears, and was met by still louder applause, many handshakes, slaps on the back, and still more hugs as I made my way back to my seat, trying to keep from openly weeping in the face of such unexpected, unconditional love and support.
These are the memories that I associate with my White Chip, which stands for surrender. In the midst of my sorrow and depression, anxiety and uncertainty, I was met with friendly, caring embraces and warm words of encouragement from a room filled with complete and total strangers. I walked in off the street, having no idea what to expect, and what I found went far beyond even my wildest expectations.
I keep this experience close by because I do not want to sully or tarnish its memory. It was one of the most beautiful moments in my life, and if I forget it, I risk taking a drink. And if I were to take a drink, assuming that I could summon the courage and willpower to return to that room under similar circumstances, which is by no means assured, I would have to pick up another White Chip, and the memory I just shared would be forever tarnished.
Therefore, God willing and one day at a time, I pray earnestly that this is the only White Chip I ever have to pick up.
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