Thursday, 5th September—it truly was a “perfect storm.” The day started off on the wrong foot. When I arrived at the office, the Wi-Fi network wasn’t working. My original plan was to attend the early morning AA sunrise meeting across the street, but instead, I had to troubleshoot the network issue. After 10 minutes, I managed to fix it, but by then it was too late to attend the face-to-face meeting, so I joined the Zoom version instead.
Just as I was settling into the online meeting, the office manager arrived and immediately asked for my help—even though I was clearly in the middle of something. That was the end of my attempt at the AA meeting. What did she need help with? Carrying five boxes of Champagne into the office—30 bottles in total. Apparently, 100 people were coming in to celebrate two managers’ 20-year work anniversaries. The office only seats 40, and 15 were already occupied, so as the IT manager, it was my job to quickly figure out how to accommodate everyone.
Once the crowd arrived, I somehow managed to find space for most people to work. But that’s when the “User Zombies” started to appear at my desk, laptops in hand, saying things like, “I’ve had this issue for a while,” or “I thought I’d wait until I was in the office to fix this.” While everyone else was chatting about holidays or personal triumphs, I was swamped with work.
Then came the worst part of the day—the Champagne presentation. As soon as the bottles were opened, the office filled with the smell of alcohol. It was overwhelming. Not too long ago, that smell wouldn’t have bothered me. In fact, I would’ve loved it—a free ticket to get hammered. But this time was different. The scent of alcohol in the air and on people’s breath made me feel physically sick, and mentally I was fighting off cravings that were bubbling under the surface. I had to step out of the office to escape it all.
When I returned, the party had died down, and most people had left to continue the festivities elsewhere. I opened the window wide and put on my headphones, trying to calm my chaotic mind.
Now, this is why I call it a “perfect storm.” The day before, my sponsor had emailed me about a local meditation meeting happening that evening, and I had planned to attend. Despite the stress, I stuck to my plan. After work, I went home, got ready, and headed to my first meditation session.
The people there were kind and welcoming, offering me a cup of tea. In the meditation room, they asked if I’d like an energy alignment. I agreed, closed my eyes, and tried to relax. As I breathed in the scents of lavender, eucalyptus, and sandalwood, I felt a cool breeze from their hands as they moved around my body without touching it. Even with my eyes closed, I could sense where their hands were. By the time they finished, all the hairs on my body were standing up, and I felt completely at ease. What followed was 30 minutes of guided meditation with 20 other people. I felt a deep sense of peace, like my inner battery was being recharged as I sat there, listening to calming music and words.
After the meditation, there was a second energy alignment, which was even more powerful than the first. I could almost feel balls of energy being washed over me, and by the end of it, I felt weightless, as if all my stress and anxiety had been lifted.
When I finally stood up, I felt like I was floating. The weight of the day had vanished, replaced by a sense of happiness and calm. I floated back to my car, drove home without a care in the world, got into bed, and fell into the most peaceful sleep.
It was a day that had the potential to break me, but in the end, it reminded me of how far I’ve come, and how much strength I have when I stick to what’s important.
Thursday, September 5th
A perfect storm, they say.
Started wrong, ended right.
Wi-Fi down, meeting missed,
Office chaos, alcohol mist.
Zombies at my desk,
Champagne scent, a test.
Cravings bubbled, mind a-churn,
Escaped the chaos, sought to learn.
Meditation, a beacon bright,
Energy healing, a soothing light.
Stress lifted, peace restored,
A day survived, a lesson learned.
