Self Centered
by David Weitz
If you think attending a meeting once a week in a church basement is tough, try recovering in a clubhouse — where your program doesn’t get tested weekly, but daily. When I first arrived, I couldn’t tell if I was seen as “new” because of the literal definition or because of my outlandish behavior. By the time I earned my third coin, half the room was cheering me on to say whatever was on my mind, while the other half probably wished I’d find a clubhouse on the other side of the planet.
“Principles Before Personalities” wasn’t just a tradition I saw hanging on the wall or heard repeated in meetings — it became a mantra I whispered to myself like a madman. Because when you recover in a center full of personalities, you quickly learn how self-centered you still are… even while sitting in the very place designed to help you stop being that way.
Picture this: walking into the same room with the same people — not just on Mondays, but Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, Fridays… and let’s not even talk about the weekends. At that point, all I was missing was a halfway decent bed. I might as well have brought my toothbrush and moved in. If recovery is about finding balance, then I had officially made the clubhouse the center of my universe.
Anyone who’s lived this knows exactly what I mean.
And then something happens.
Those who make it far enough in recovery eventually reach a moment where they realize it might be time to venture outside the clubhouse. That’s when the real bravery kicks in. You plan the occasion like it’s a date — not with someone else, but with yourself. Romantic, right? You clean yourself up, maybe dress a little sharper than usual, and show up early to a new meeting in a new place, pretending you’re not internally screaming.
The meeting starts, people share, coffee is poured… and suddenly it hits you.
You miss your usual clubhouse crew — even the ones you don’t like. Heck, you miss not liking them. You miss your seat. You miss the familiar chaos. You miss the strange comfort of being surrounded by people who know exactly how self-centered you can be — because they see it every day.
After that surreal experience, you go home, sleep it off, and the very next day find yourself back in your regular chair, oddly comforted by the realization that no matter where else you might go, there’s still no place like home. Sometimes growth doesn’t mean leaving the center — it means learning how to behave while you’re still in it.
One day, I’ll gather the courage to evolve beyond my little habitat. But for now, I can honestly say the good I gain from where I recover far outweighs the challenges posed by the personalities around me. It’s where I’ve learned to welcome newcomers — people looking for a safe haven, a place that stays open, where you can keep showing up until you’ve exhausted yourself into wellness.
In truth, I consider myself lucky. Most people don’t have the luxury of a place like this — the very place I’ve worked so hard to complain about. Maybe it’s just the self-centered part of me… the same part that brought me to my knees in the first place.
Then again — at least I’ve got a center where I can finally be myself.
