My insecurities could eat me alive.
The 8:00 PM Narcotics Anonymous meeting on Friday nights is the biggest he had ever been to. In a room filled with those that thrived on self destruction, he should have felt at home and connected. He didn't. He felt different. He felt judgment. He imagined everyone's eyes were one him. Smiling in acceptance, veiling their judgment.
As the other addicts hug and converse the envy devours him. He yearns to be a part of their sect. They all seem so comfortable with each other. They all know one another. And there are no problems because all of them are normal. He sees the people he does interact with and is hurt. They are treating all the other people they come into contact different than they do him. They are nicer, personal. They don't have the issues he does. He is consumed with jealousy and wants the results to trying to get help instantly. It isn't going to happen.
Next, he watches the clean time be celebrated. With his measly seven days he feels like he's in last place. This is a race. How are they people doing this?! The answer he knows is true baffles him. Giving his power over to a God who cursed him is unfathomable. He wants the 30 days the dope fiend has next to him.
Then, the sharing begins and all he can do is judge each person that talks. She doesn't know what she's talking about she only has 30 days. Why is be bitching about that? Just deal with it! The persecutions pour in and he can't make them stop.
By the time the meeting is over he is disgusted with himself. He is still alone and isolated and those thoughts annihilate the identification that the people around him felt just as alienated and ashamed as he does. He can't see what's right in front of him. He can't see that he's no different than the addicts around him. He wants nothing more than to be right and it's all he seems to be able to focus on.
Wallowing in a pit of self loathing he smiles and makes small talk with strangers that he wants so badly to reach out to but if far to controlled and calculated to do so. They want to help but he won't let them for he doesn't see how they can.
Once again he watches everyone rejoice in happiness. He watches everyone interact and it's like he's no longer there. He's invisible. He's vulnerable. When they all go out to eat afterwards things only get worse. It's another hour for him to watch them, to envy them. On the way home he wants nothing more than silence because now he even feels alienated from the people he's closest to in the fellowship. But instead he talks, not about his strong urge to cry, not about his frustrations, but about anything that doesn't involve him to open up.
He went with optimism. He went ready to connect and reach out. But his disease got the best of him. His disease told him to be reserved because he was different from them. He went home filled with distain. He went home ready to use. He went home contemplating just what he was going to do.
He knew he had to keep coming back for he had realized something that had been right in front of him all this time. The disturbing realization was that he actually hated who he was. He didn't want to feel like that anymore.