The Edge Cafe

So I did it, I went, and I managed to get out of my car and actually go in, although that was thanks to a really nice guy who works there, he found me sat in my car and came and spoke to me, so I went in.

I felt as awkward as expected, if I’d been closer to the door I’d probably have tried to slip out without being noticed. The format was really simple, everyone spoke for a few minutes about their week, triumphs and slip ups. I was the last in the group to be asked to speak, so I didn’t, I just joked about going round the circle again.

I couldn’t speak, I’d sat and listened to the others, it made me wonder why I was there. They all seemed to have their own problems and achievements, stories which didn’t compare with mine at all. They had drink problems, cocaine problems, I didn’t do any of that, I just got a little bit carried away with some recreational drugs and sex. My problem wasn’t like their problems, their problems were a daily struggle, and their achievements were daily as well. I admired them all but I don’t admire myself, I didn’t belong there, or so I thought.

Then something someone said rang home, someone described hiding things so nobody would find them, I used to hide syringes so they wouldn’t be found, exactly the same behaviour, I hid them around the house, new ones and used ones. Maybe I wasn’t actually all that different after all.

As we were leaving I did stand and speak to a couple of people, they told me each of them didn’t say much when they first started going. They encouraged me to go back next week, told me I could speak when I was ready, there was no rush.

So next Thursday night I shall once again drive into town, and I shall sit quietly and listen to people’s ups and downs, hear their stories of addiction, and maybe, just maybe, I might start to share the story of mine.

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