The Chemistry of Sponsorship

My sponsor is speaking at a workshop tomorrow on sponsorship, which got me thinking -- sponsorship is a lot like dating. Sometimes you have to kiss a lot of frogs before your prince comes along.

Finding a sponsor can be frustrating, especially for someone who’s used up every ounce of courage and determination just to walk into the rooms. So if you are freaking out about finding the “perfect sponsor,” take a deep breath and relax. In reality there is no such thing.

It can take months or years to connect with someone so meaningfully that you want to get to know them better. The same goes for finding a sponsor; you’ve got to listen to people’s stories, experiences, beliefs and how they handle their sobriety. And it’s perfectly okay to meet someone and decide you like them, but realize that they just wouldn’t be the best fit for you as a sponsor. It’s kind of like going on a first date and realizing that although that person is perfectly nice, you really couldn’t imagine being with them on a regular basis.

Now, in the spirit of full disclosure, I have to admit I for one found my sponsor very quickly. Although I had attended a few AA/CMA meetings in the past, I had never really made a serious attempt at getting sober. So when I finally decided it was time, I made a conscious decision that the first order of business was to find a sponsor. But I also knew that I needed to be happy with the process and the decision. So I sat back and observed the numerous people who befriended me and whom I heard speak, and waited for the magic to happen. As it turns out, the magic happened in a very six-degrees-of-separation way.

I was at the Saturday “Happy, Joyous and Free” meeting at the Village when I ran into an old friend who I know from both my pre-using and using days. I had always had a crush on this person so I was more than happy to go say hello and bask in his gratitude and affection. He also mentioned that he was happy I was there that particular day because his sponsor was speaking. So I listened intently (probably extra intently due to the aforementioned crush) to this wonderful and amazing story. Suddenly I found myself not only agreeing, but connecting with this person I had never met. I knew I had to have this man as my sponsor.

I asked my friend if his sponsor would be willing to sponsor me. He said he would check and invited me to Monday “Mansfield” to meet his sponsor. After that meeting I was introduced to the person who would become my sponsor in the program. It was a match made in heaven. This is not to say there weren’t areas that we needed to compromise on. I can be hard-headed and stubborn, to say the least. But my sponsor had not only what I wanted in terms of sobriety, the tools he was offering were tools that I already had. And some three-and-a-half years later, we are still going strong.

I tell this story not to further confuse the already confused, but to illustrate the point that when it’s right, you will know. And it’s been right all along because my sponsor and I have been thru a lot together. We’ve conquered a four month relapse, me testing HIV positive, numerous love affairs gone wrong (on both sides) but we’re still there for each other.

This brings me to my final point. Even if you pick a sponsor, and it doesn’t work out, it’s not the end of the world. Some people believe that there is no such thing as “happily ever after” but rather a series of relationships that are meant to teach us separate things and then end so we can move onto the next phase in our lives. In simpler terms: don’t always be looking for “Mr. Right” when “Mr. Right Now” might be able to teach you a thing or two. The important thing is that you have someone, for however long, that can help you thru this adventure called sobriety.

John S.

That Which Cannot Be Measured

I recently received the sort of phone call no one is ever prepared for, but almost everyone eventually gets. The news was grim. My 57-year old brother had committed suicide. He shot himself in the heart, after years of battling depression, along with wrestling with some health issues which frightened him. He was not one of us, i.e., an addict, though I wish he was. He surely could have used a 12-step program.

This entry is not about his death though, nor about my grief, nor even about how I didn’t use his suicide as an excuse to pick up. This is about the value of my having been clean and sober for four years when the phone rang. Within 48 hours, I had joined my sister, niece and nephew at my brother’s home. The next day we met with his co-workers, consoled friends and neighbors, and arranged a cremation. Then we joined my mother and the rest of the family and held a memorial service.

Over the following week, we engaged in the most profound kind of practical love and kindness with each other. Every day my aunt and I woke my mother up and held her hand for as long as she needed. We took walks, shared memories, watched TV. One of my siblings or I was always shopping, cooking or cleaning up. We played with the kids, told funny stories, drove to airports. I was the best son, brother and nephew I could be, the person I’d become over the past 4 years because of meetings, fellowship and step work.

It almost goes without saying that had this happened 5 years ago, I would not have been my family’s “go-to” guy. They probably would have told me my presence wasn’t necessary, and I probably would have agreed. Or perhaps I would have tried to help, but jonesed through the ordeal, or worse, secretly used. I shudder at thinking of either prospect.

I cannot begin to place a value on what it meant to be the son and brother my family turned to in a crisis, instead of turned away from. I urge you to think about your own sobriety in the same terms. We may stay sober a day at a time, but it takes many days to become the kind of person we want to be, and sometimes, need to be for others. When you find yourself wondering about whether you can or even want to stay sober, I urge you to ask yourself instead this question: “What kind of man do I want to be?” Because I promise you, the day will come when you get the kind of phone call I did, and you'll have to answer that question.

Marc O.