My first visit with the fellowship

I attended my first AA meeting last night.

I almost backed out at 4pm. My almost 9 month old had awoken grizzly from her nap and my toddler was yelling at me about pencils. I was scared.

I picked up the phone and called the AA hotline and told them how anxious I was, how petrified I was and lastly how terrified I was to see someone I knew there. The man on the other end of the phone chuckled with amusement and informed me that if someone I knew was at AA then they were there for exactly the same reason I was - they therefore could not judge my sins.

The clock ticked slowly over the next few hours, the anxiety of the reality of my situation came and went in waves crashing on the shore.

See, I knew I had a problem when I first touched alcohol. One drink in and I was tipsy - I was 15...

My first experience of being black out drunk occurred when I was just 18. That was the first time my drunk alter ego appeared. That night I passed out and threw up in my sleep. I knew then that maybe something was wrong with alcohol and me, something just never felt right.

So just how had I let it get this bad? Where did I lose myself along the way? The ridiculous part of all of this - I don't actually like the taste of alcohol or how it makes me feel. That's how little control I have over it.

I busied myself getting dinner ready for the kids and tidying the house before bedtime and preparing my babies for bed. I kissed them both tenderly, silently promising I would be a new mummy, I would be a better mummy - A happier mummy, I would be a 100 percent sober mummy for the rest of their lives.

I kissed my husband goodbye, tears silently trickled down my face. His words as I left were "If its not for you, you don't have to go back" I choked back my response "But it is for me, and I do have to"

I picked myself up a coffee on the way and pulled into the car park of the local hospitals community health branch. Took a deep breath, got out of my car and pushed the anxiety to the back of my mind.

After a few minutes trying to figure out how to get into the meeting without asking reception where AA I was, I popped my head into a room where i found a gentleman setting up. I found myself explaining that this was the first time I had ever attended a meeting and then the tears began as I hurriedly told this complete stranger why I was there.

Rather than judge me, he hugged me, earnestly - like he felt the pain and shame to the very core of my soul. He told me I was in exactly the right place - and honestly I knew in that moment I could do this.

He handed me brochures and made small talk until the other members began to arrive, greeting each other familiarly, each of them introducing themselves to me and shaking my hand fondly. The meeting commenced with just  of us in the room - we were all different ages, all with varying degrees of alcoholism, but all with a compelling addiction to alcohol in one way or another.

We started out the meeting talking about 12 steps and listened to the tape and read the big book. We read step 7 - Humility. I sat there awkwardly as the other members spoke, I had no idea what humility was! This was one I was going to need to look up when I got home! But the more I listened the more i realised we were all like-minded and just wanted to live our lives in peace and free from the binds of this consuming disease.

When it was my turn, I was surprised to hear myself speaking up, the words spewing out of my mouth and tears streaming down my cheeks- what felt like the hours was actually the longest few minutes of my life. I had just told four strangers that I was an alcoholic mother who wanted to regain my life and be a better person for my husband and my children. That I was fearful what kind of lives I would shape these tiny human beings into or worse, if I wasn't here to shape them into the beautiful people I want them to be.

Instead of being met with judgement, I applauded and told I was brave and most of all, the most comforting thing yet - I was not alone.

I promised myself I would return next Monday, and I will go every goddamn Monday for the rest of my life if that is what it takes.There is too much at stake. I will not fail. I cannot fail.