On The Other Side

Chapter 1 - Breaking The Rules

GEORGE
—

Stepping out of the taxi, I gently close the door and inhale deeply.

'You'll be fine George.' I tell myself, taking another trembling breath.

I'm overwhelmed with emotion. I don't want to go through this again. I've faced my inability to stay sober so many times, and it feels like a never-ending battle. The truth is, I find escape in alcohol and drugs. They provide an escape from reality, making me experience emotions I never thought were possible, and, above all, they make me feel better, even if just temporarily. They have become my hideout from life's struggles, and it's tearing me apart.

I remember that I'm doing this for my dad. That's actually not true, but if I keep telling this to myself maybe I'll forget the actual reason to why I'm doing it and get sober.

The pain still lingers deep within my heart as I think about that day. Just two months ago, my dad died of cancer. The weight of his absence feels unbearable, and the memories of his last words haunt me like a relentless storm.

"I hope you sober up, my boy," he whispered with weakness in his voice, and those words carved deep into my soul.

My dad was my everything. His rich spirit brightened even the darkest moments, bringing laughter to everyone's face. I'll always miss the way he'd come home tired yet always make time to talk to me about my day.

He was the one who actually understood me, my best friend. Whenever I sank into the dark abyss of drugs and alcohol, he was there to lift me up, offering unwavering support and love, even when I relapsed. His presence was my motivation, and now without him here, there's no motivation left.

I take a deep breath, feeling waves of anxiety as I clutch the phone tightly in my hands while entering the building. As I step inside, I notice there are fewer people than I expected, all settled and ready for the meeting to begin. The layout feels familiar; I've attended multiple recovery meetings before. Finding the nearest chair, I sit down in the circular arrangement, preparing myself for what lies ahead.

As I take my seat, an older lady is seated to my left, and an empty chair awaits to my right. I find myself wondering about older people wanting to get sober. In my head, I wonder why they would make such an effort when they're one foot in the grave.

Suddenly, a middle-aged man enters the room, projecting a sense of health. His face is adorned with a well-groomed beard, and his dark, slightly curly black hair brings out his striking dark blue eyes. His presence is marked by a calm and slow walk, and he carries himself with a somewhat hunched posture.

As the room falls silent, the man takes a seat right beside me, holding a paper in his hand. With everyone's attention focused on him, he stands up, ready to start talking.

"Hello, as most of you know, my name is Dave," he introduces himself, placing a gentle hand on his chest. In response, a united voice of greetings fills the room.

His gaze meets mine, and a warm smile spreads across his face. "As you can see, we have a new addition to our team here with us," he announces, motioning for me to stand up.

As anxiety washes over me, the weight of the moment becomes obvious. I know that this is the time when I have to get up and tell everyone why I'm here and lie about wanting to get sober. I don't want to get sober, I'm being forced into getting sober.

I slowly stand up. "Hello. I'm George," I say with a tinge of awkwardness, my nerves destroying me like a tidal wave. Speaking in front of people has never been something I enjoyed, and the vulnerability of this moment intensifies that feeling.