A strange and mysterious place is what lies at the end of a 17-hour flight due Northwest. It is an island that operates under its own laws, not applicable anywhere else. Everything comes with a twist of the surreal, and one might get the feeling that walking through customs is akin to stepping into a parallel universe. This little patch of rock is called Manhattan, the home of The Empire State Building, Central Park, Times Square and more recently yours truly too.

Most likely here one will find the highest concentration of addicts per square foot of any place on earth. This is unsurprising given the fact that New York City has been aptly called: “The City that never sleeps”. As a result, there is an endless list of things to do on any given night. This provides ample opportunity for an addict, such as myself, to wind up on the wrong end of a “tooter” or tequila bottle. The upshot is that there are more meetings on any given day than I can shake a stick at. Testimony to this is the one hundred page thick Narcotics Anonymous (NA) meeting booklet, and that’s just for drug addicts. The list of sister fellowships is as diverse as one could imagine; Alcoholics Anonymous (AA), Sexual Compulsives Anonymous (SCA), Cocaine Anonymous (CA), Crystal Meth Anonymous (CMA)… the list goes; each well attended with numerous meetings being held at various times across the city.

The downside to all this choice is that it is very difficult to find a home group; especially one that provides sanctuary from the insanity that often rules my brain. My first couple of meetings were loud, disorganized and left my sense of calm hanging by a thread. Then there was the issue of The Serenity Prayer being at the beginning of the meeting instead of the end, people walking in and out continuously, nobody introducing themselves, never being sure when to put up my hand for clean time. Even more distressing was the fact that people “surrendered to the principles of NA” by clapping and hugging each other (I am not really the touchy-feely type). So there I was: all this choice and the right tools in front of me but without a clue how I was going to make it all work.

Then I got lucky, or more to the point, I wizened up. I found a small meeting that was not well attended; I didn’t have to jostle, shout or elbow people to be “picked” by the chairperson to share, and most importantly people were interested in me. I was not just another addict but rather someone with a fresh perspective that they were willing to embrace despite my obvious differences (my accent was the first giveaway). What a relief. It was that gesture that reminded me of the very first thing that I learnt coming into the rooms of NA: “It is our similarities that keep us together”. I started listening for those similarities. I had learnt these tools years before but had conveniently forgotten them through all the drama of the other meetings. Did it really matter when we said The Serenity Prayer? I was beginning to think that it didn’t.

As I started to listen to people share, I mean really listen, I had another startling (yet familiar) revelation: their stories were strikingly similar to my own! The cast may have been different but the production was definitely the same. It occurred to me that while I may have been born at the tip of Africa I still had a lot more in common with this loud, overly confident group of people than I had expected.

Over time I found meetings that I really enjoyed. I made new friends and opened myself up to infinite possibilities. I slowly realized that, similar to when I was still in active addiction, I had been hanging on to something that was holding me back. In order to move forward I needed to embrace the fellowship in my new hometown and stop living with one foot in the past and keep both feet in the present. Dealing with one problem at a time, one day at a time.