The group sat in a circle, their chairs arranged so that they faced in towards each other. Some of the people were chatting to each other; others sat in silence, trying to avoid attracting attention. As the clock on the wall hit eight, a short, casually-dressed man stood up and cleared his throat. The talking stopped, and there was the sound of people shifting in their seats.
"Good evening." The man paused for the greeting to be returned. "My name is Paul. Welcome to our group. I see some familiar faces, and I see some new ones as well. I would just like to say to the newcomers that it does not matter why you are here. All that matters is that you are here, in a safe space where we can share and give support.
"If you are new, you don't have to share your experiences with us if you don't want to. There is no pressure on anyone to speak. When you are ready, we will not judge you. We will listen."
Paul looked around the group. One of the new members raised a hand. "May I" he asked.
"Of course." Paul sat down.
The new member stood up. "Hello." There was a chorus of 'hellos' in response. "My name is Al. And I'm an addict." He paused to draw breath and courage to go on. "My addiction has ruined my life. It is out of control - and so am I. I need help. And support. I want to be free."
Al started to sit down, but Paul stopped him. "Please. If you would. Do you want to tell the group what you are addicted to? Sometimes it helps if you do."
Al's face turned pale, and he hung his head in shame. "Coffee," he whispered. "I'm addicted to coffee."
