A man approached me at a 12-step meeting - after getting a one year chip - and thanked me for helping him get to TLC.
He said he'd sent an email in the summer of last year, asking for help. And my response was to direct him to our Southern property.
I appreciated his gratitude, even though he's the one who did the hard work of staying in recovery.
It meant something to me, though, because it's rare that I meet those who send emails.
Some are simple inquiries. Others have a tone of desperation, even drama, about them. They often say things like "if I don't get sober I'm going to die." Or, "I've lost everything and don't know what to do."
The other day a woman wrote telling me she felt like taking her life. She'd tried to get sober many times, but had never succeeded and was ready to give up. I told her to call a suicide hotline.
Others will start their email with some clarity, then the words will trail off as if they'd just done a shot of dope. Or else are about to pass out from drinking.
A few send nonsense messages that are unintelligible. Even if I can't understand them I'll send a brief answer saying that we can help.
And then there are a couple who've been writing to me every once in a while over the past year. They say they're still trying to figure out how to get a ride to Arizona. I always wish them luck.
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