It's 7am on a weekday morning and I am facing a room of 15 people of varying ages, colours and backgrounds. We all have one thing in common - we are in recovery from our shared illness.
I used to love early morning meetings. They kept me going when my head felt like it was going to fall off my shoulders because the thoughts in my head were whirring so uncontrollably I couldn't sleep. They kept me going when I knew a difficult day at work lay ahead, enabling me to get a measure of perspective and calm before I walked out to face the day. And once, when I was in the States, I got up every morning at 5am so that I could get to that particular city's 6am meetings on time.
Today's meeting is two minutes from where I live, but it is the first time I have managed to get my a**e out of bed to attend it - and that only because the young Aussie who runs it asked me last week to speak at it, and I have to honour my commitment.
But my young friend Frances is in the room, and my friend Sue. There are other people there whom I hold in high regard. And there is a woman I have never met before who speaks with great wit and verve. The sense of camaraderie is palpable; our shared sense of gratitude overwhelming. It is an hour of humour, warmth and exhilaration.
Despite the many complicated things going on in my life at the moment (some negative), once I leave the meeting I manage to have a very good day.
Funny that.
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