I’ve Been Sober For Six Weeks!
I continued working for The Carnegie Museum of Natural History after rehab. My colleagues welcomed me back with open arms. Nobody judged me; everyone was supportive. It was weird. These people loved me almost as much as I loved them.
I had some fantastic run-ins at The Carnegie with celebrities. One Monday, when the museum was closed to the public, Mick Jagger and Charlie Watts toured the museum. Word traveled fast that they were there. I raced out and hovered one floor above them, heart hammering. Then I ran downstairs to casually breeze by them, three feet away, without saying a word. Mick looked at me with a half-smile on his face and I caught his eye, then immediately dropped my gaze. Inside I was screaming: MICK JAGGER MICK JAGGER MICK JAGGER! I love Mick Jagger.
Another day, a film crew went into the department next door, Entomology, to film some butterflies. The entire floor was shut down to make way for the huge cameras and all the crew. Later that day, I was smoking in the lounge (back when they had smoking lounges) and a slew of strangers swarmed by. My eyes were drawn to a woman who, while shorter in stature, seemed to walk a full head taller than everyone else. She turned her head just long enough that I recognized her: it was Jodie Foster cruising past. They were filming a scene from Silence of the Lambs.
I also remember talking to “Tom” – not a celebrity, but Carnegie staff.
I was fresh out of rehab and everyone seemed to be proud of me, so I thought I should be proud of myself, too. I shared my story freely with everyone.
One day, I walked into Tom’s office (though I can’t remember his real name) to deliver a document of some sort. As I stood there chattering I casually announced, “I’ve been sober for six weeks!”
Tom’s jaw dropped. A second passed. Finally he said, “Could you shut the door, please?”
I barely knew the man, and this was my first visit to his office. I asked, “Why?” as I swung the door shut behind me.
“Just close it, thanks,” Tom said. “Six weeks, huh? Do you tell everyone you have six weeks?”
“Well not everyone,” I said. “It doesn’t always come up.”
“Good,” said Tom. “It’s probably better if you don’t tell very many people.”
“Why?” I was stunned.
“Because maybe not everyone is going to be understanding,” he said.
“Oh everyone’s been great!” I said. “Everybody in my department thinks it’s wonderful!”
Tom smiled. “Good,” he said. “I’m glad to hear that. But you might want to be careful.”
I considered this. I had no idea why I should be cautious when announcing my alcoholic tendencies. After all, I was sober now! My life was going great!
“I don’t really think I should worry about it,” I said. Then I had a thought. “Did I offend you somehow?”
Tom smiled again. “No,” he said, hesitating. “I have three years sober myself.”
I practically leaped at him. “Oh my god, congratulations!” I yelled. “My work people are sober, too! That’s amazing!”
Tom shook his head. “Thanks,” he said. “But just be careful who you tell. Do you go to meetings?”
“Every day!”
“Maybe just tell people at meetings,” he said. “Just in case.”
“Just in case what?”
“In case not everyone is so understanding,” he sighed. “But thanks for sharing your news with me.”
“Okay!” I said. “See you later!” I felt like I had a secret.
And I tried to be … quieter about my sobriety.