I go to meetings to process my stuff. But sometimes the meetings are hard to process. Tonight I met a woman whose 5-month-old daughter was killed by her alcoholic husband, 4 weeks ago. My heart breaks for her. My pain seems petty and selfish in comparison. Also, I wish my own children were in this state right now so I could hug them hard.
Then, a newcomer shared about being in a relationship with an alcoholic in recovery, and how she didn’t like how the relationship was changing her. How she seemed preoccupied all the time about winning his approval. How she sometimes caught herself trying to manipulate people and circumstances to win his approval. How it made her feel desperate and dependent and unhappy and not herself, and she wanted to stop, because she really loves him and is afraid she is going to fuck it up. I don’t even know where to start processing that one, except to say, sometimes you serve the newcomer, and sometimes she serves you.