Estimated read time: 9 min
When it comes to Alcoholics Anonymous there are many traditions that I really love. I love that we open meetings with similar readings. I love the tradition of sponsorship. I love that at almost every meeting I have attended includes fresh, hot coffee. I love the camaraderie of alcoholics who laugh at the terrors and insanity of addiction as we share stories.
When I got sober, meetings were the only place I felt at home. To this day, if I am bothered, upset or unsettled, going to a meeting and hanging out with my people makes things better.
There is only one part of AA that I don’t like. Being a sponsor. Don’t get excited, I have a good reason. I’m 0-18 when it comes to helping a sponsee stay sober. I haven’t had a sponsee who has stayed sober long enough to complete the steps.
Hell, most of them never got through Step 1. A handful of brave souls made it to the cusp of the fourth step and disappeared faster than the Roadrunner leaving the Coyote in the desert.
0-18.
I mention that streak one more time because it seems incredible. In the NBA only two teams in league history have started with an 0-18 record, the Philadelphia 76ers and the New Jersey Nets. The storied losing streak of the NFL’s Tampa Bay Buccaneers stopped at 0-26 so I have room to “improve.” Not that I’m trying to beat any records, but at some point, I wonder what is going on with me.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
I remember the first time I was asked to be a sponsor. I was excited! I had my first sponsee! I was ready to save the world from addiction and here would be my first success. Someone had asked me, ME, for help. This guy was going to be a highly polished recovery professional when I was through with him!
My own sponsor was not so sure. His response as I excitedly explained that someone wanted me as his sponsor: “You need to buy a suit.”
The suit, I learned, would be necessary should my new sponsee die in the throes of addiction despite his attempts and my help to ensure he would not.
I didn’t even think of buying a suit. I was thumbing through my Big Book placing sticky notes on the pages I had heavily underlined when I was working the steps. I knew exactly what had worked for me. I was ready. I was excited. I was sure that I could do this.
Four weeks later, I was lost.
I called my sponsor to break the news that I–believe it, or not—I had failed.
“Did you buy him a six-pack or something?” the gruff voice on the telephone asked. “You didn’t get him drunk, and you can’t keep him sober. Just stay sober and be ready for the next one.”
One thing I could always count on from my sponsor was sympathy–NOT! (You can find more examples of the wisdom of my sponsor in my post, “Sponsorship: What’s the Big Deal.”
I followed his advice. I read back through my notes on the steps, went to meetings and waited.
I didn’t have to wait long. Another prospective sponsee who had been attending meetings for about two weeks asked me to sponsor him. I agreed and suggested he get to reading his Big Book. That’s when I discovered that not only did he not have a Big Book, the AA group that had hosted the meeting was out of copies for sale. Knowing that I would see him at a meeting the next night, I let him borrow my copy. My personal, $30,000 copy that I had from my first day at rehab and was chock full of notes from various stages of my sobriety.
I never saw him or the book again. I hope that he is somewhere putting the book to good use.
The next sponsees were so in name only. Three guys in rapid succession who barely managed to trade phone numbers with me before they were back on the bottle.
After that, I needed a little break. I needed to be more selective, I thought. I talked to a couple of other guys who had been successful in sponsorship. One had three current sponsees, which to me seemed like a lot, but he managed pretty easily.
Nothing either successful sponsor said seemed to help. Both of them just told the newcomer “what was told to them.” The problem, then, must be the source, my sponsor!
Before I got up the guts to call my sponsor and inquire why he had taught me the wrong way to keep people sober, I added a new sponsee.
This guy needed a ride to and from meetings which gave us time to share. He had been in AA for years but never sober. I was a little surprised that he asked me to be his sponsor, but in a way it made sense. I hadn’t had a successful sponsee; he had not been successful in AA.
Things seemed to be going well for a while. Then, one day, I was out of town and he couldn’t find a ride to a meeting. When I came back to town he was already drunk, and within a few more days he had disappeared into an area where cell phones couldn’t reach. Mostly likely, he stopped answering.
At some point, I got discouraged. I felt like I was a hazard to anyone’s sobriety. When a guy would ask for help, I would make an excuse. I was in graduate school and working full time so I was limited in time I could devote to helping someone. That seemed a good enough answer for most people. Still, I gave in a few times and got rewarded with disappearances.
If this kept up, I might end up on the FBI’s Unexplained Files, I thought.
I began to joke at meetings that if there was someone wanting to relapse, all they needed to do was to ask me to be their sponsor.
Oddly, that didn’t stop the requests.
Finally, one guy who I had to agreed to sponsor and bought a Big Book for, showed back up. He looked horrible. He was shaking from withdrawals and reeked of booze. He was just desperate enough, I thought, that he might get it. He definitely needed it.
Over the next few months, he worked through the steps, attended meetings, and turned into a fun-loving, sober alcoholic. He was inspiring and fun to be around. He began his fourth step and I was sure the burden that had kept him drunk would begin to disappear.
After a beginning of his fifth step, he decided to drink again. He bounced back, started over and then drank again. After his third trip back to the bottle we decided to pause the sponsor-sponsee role we had adopted. I didn’t fully give up because he didn’t either, I just sensed he was not ready to stop fighting for a chance to drink.
We still talk and he has continued to struggle. Sometimes he can put nine months together before a three-day bender; other times he battles just to put the bottle down. Some of his darker relapse moments hurt me. I want so much for him to see what I see and the powerhouse of a person he can be if he will just stay sober. For now, the battle continues, but each time we talk I fear it might be the last.
He was number 16 on the list. Seventeen and 18 are less memorable and no longer in cellphone range, but I began turning everyone away at that point.
One night, a friend, who overheard me suggesting other possible sponsors to a newcomer, pulled me to the side.
“You know how many people have asked me for help and went back out?”
I shook my head.
“Hell, I can’t count them all, but an important thing happened,” he said. “I stayed sober. And, that’s a freaking miracle, man. I couldn’t get 30 days, but here I am.”
“It just seems like I’m wasting their time and mine,” I protested.
“All you do is show them what was shown to you. It’s their job to pick up the kit of spiritual tools you lay at their feet,” he said. “If a guy I’m helping stays sober, that’s great. But, what is important is that I stay sober and willing to help the next one.”
I’m pretty sure I mumbled something in response, but his words stuck with me. All I am responsible for is showing people the tools of recovery that helped me. What they do with those tools is not my business.
In my own recovery, I have picked up tools that helped me from many different people. My sponsor gave me the foundation I needed, but there are so many more people who helped keep me sober. It takes all of us to support each other in recovery. A sponsor is only a person in recovery who gets to show what he or she learned to help someone else. Nothing more and nothing less.
I have another sponsee now and so far he is doing well. Perhaps, I will finally be able to break my streak. I didn’t accept his request with that in mind, and perhaps he chose me so he wouldn’t disappoint a successful sponsor. The only thing I know for sure is that I will be ready to help each step of the way. And, if another person asks, I’ll help him, too.
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