Abundant Abstinence?
Annoying Alcoholics?
Amazing Alcoholics?
Achievements Abloom?
Anxious About?
Since starting Alcoholisnt at the beginning of 2022, I’ve spent significant time as a social media observer and participant in an effort to educate myself, gain connection through community, spread positive messages about recovery, and generate awareness for Alcoholisnt and our mission.
There’s a healthy divide in online recovery communities between 12-step devotees and those who aren’t pickin’ up what Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) is puttin’ down. And I mean healthy in two ways:
There’s a decent gap there
The back-and-forth is generally pretty reserved—maybe not truly “healthy” but not venom-filled either
I’m generally on the “not pickin’ it up” side of the gap and will try to express why in a healthy manner. There’s a mix of things going on involving shame, religion, and fear that I believe turn many people away.
I can already feel some AA defense shields being deployed, so let me get a few things out of the way:
Me not jibing with AA doesn't mean I don't think it's a worthwhile program. It doesn't mean I don't appreciate what it's done. It doesn't mean I wouldn't recommend that someone struggling try it. I went to my first AA meeting over five years ago. I’ve been to at least 100 of them. I’ve attended in six states. I’ve been to speaker meetings, book study meetings, open meetings, closed meetings, and zoom meetings. I’ve been to LBGTQ+ AA meetings. I’ve been to Narcotics Anonymous (NA) meetings. I’ve been to Celebrate Recovery. I’ve even been to an “Agnostics, Atheists, and Freethinkers” AA meeting. I’ve read the Big Book. I’ve picked up chips. I’ve had a sponsor. I’ve set up and taken down chairs and made coffee.
I’ve also been to Refuge Recovery, SMART Recovery, and Recovery Dharma meetings.
This ain’t my first Recovery Rodeo and this blog post is built on a wealth of thought and experience. For me, there are just too many AA aspects that rub me the wrong way.
I suggest you read the commentary below thinking of “the newcomer.” A person immersed in struggle. Unsure of where to turn. Uncertain of whether they really have a problem. Looking for an answer. Ignorant of what AA is beyond being pretty sure it involves 12 Steps.
Might as well take it from the top—the name.
Alcoholics Anonymous.
Some might assume I take issue with “Alcoholics.” Maybe I take issue with labels like alcoholism and alcoholic?
I don’t, actually. I embrace them. Yes, there’s a ton of stigma in those words. However, shifting from “alcoholic” to “person who suffers from severe alcohol use disorder (AUD)” doesn’t stem the stigma any more than the move from "black" to “African-American” reduced racism. I’d rather be upfront about being an alcoholic and try to fight the stigma head on than attempt an end around with AUD.
I guess that leaves “Anonymous” as the objectionable part. Maybe not really objectionable, but at least worthy of scrutiny.
Right up front, the name Alcoholics Anonymous gives off the vibe that it’s not ok for you to identify as an alcoholic publicly. It’s not ok for people to know. It’s something that needs to stay hidden. The fellowship of the unnamed. The unidentified. If you’ve ever been to a meeting, you likely have had the experience of not being sure if you were in the right place. Can’t risk putting a sign up. Dare not draw attention. Is it ok to ask one of these smokers lingering around that door over there?
Dare not risk someone finding out.
We’re the unacknowledged.
Beyond “Anonymous” there’s the secret code “friend of Bill.” You use “friend of Bill” when you want to convey “alcoholic” but not actually say it. Are you kidding me? “Bill W.” and “Dr. Bob” were the founders of AA. More than eight decades later we’re still hiding behind the guys who came up with the program?
Your dirty little secret. Please report to your meeting in the windowless room in the basement of the church with no signage.
We dare not let anyone know.
That’s baked into the messaging, right? It’s not ok for anyone to know that you struggle with alcohol. That shit needs to stay hidden. Shame anyone?
It’s the epitome of shame. Not mere guilt—feeling bad about what you’ve done—but shame—discomfort with who you are. Shame for me, that’s for sure. The emphasis on needing to remain invisible means somehow I’m not enough. I’m not deserving. Unworthy of even being named. I’m anonymous. It’ll be the end of me if anyone finds out.
Bullshit. I am not anonymous.
Ironically, for me, it may actually be the end of me if I don’t stay open and honest. Keep too many secrets and I’ll get really uncomfortable and have to drink that shit away. Been there, done that. No t-shirt, but I got the bailbondsman, divorce decree, and hospital wristband.
Look, I get it. “anonymous” is really rooted in a desire to protect members’ privacy. I’m a member of a local Recovery Dharma group. That’s a Buddisht-inspired approach to addiction—a fellowship in the same vein as AA. We have stock meeting language that essentially insists, the same as AA, that “what is said here stays here.”
Geez, you don’t need it in the name though. Recovery Dharma, SMART Recovery, Refuge Recovery, Rational Recovery. Hell, “Celebrate Recovery” knocked it out of the park! Celebrate Recovery? You mean we don’t have to hide?
No.
We don’t.
And plenty of AA members don't hide. They're quite open about what they've been through in meetings and in public. They're committed to service. So Anonymous by no means forces anyone into shame, but it's hard to deny the negative connotation—the message it might emphasize for a newcomer already feeling uneasy about their state.
But the name is what it is. It's the best known two words (or letters) in recovery and it's certainly not changing at this point. So let’s get to the steps. Every meeting starts there after all. Twelve, as you may have heard. That’s cool. It’s a program of action and most anyone swimming, or drowning even, in addiction appreciates anything that indicates there's a way out.
But how about the content? Unfortunately, for many, this is where religion gets mixed in with the shame—and the theme of shame continues.
Step 1: We admitted we were powerless over alcohol — that our lives had become unmanageable.
Pretty much a showstopper for me in my first 12-Step experience of significance. That was in rehab about 5 years ago. We were kinda force-fed the 12 Steps. I couldn’t get past that damn “powerless” thing. Ok, I stopped drinking. I admitted to my wife that my shit was unmanageable. I found a rehab. I told my boss I was going to said rehab. I told friends and family what was going on. I flew across the country and showed up to fix my shit.
But I’m powerless. Oh, woe is fucking me.
Baloney.
Imagine advising someone you love this way in some other challenging context. Say your daughter is really struggling with high school calculus.
“Well, Sweetie, the first thing you need to do is admit that you’re powerless over math.”
No, it’s not the same. But it’s not entirely different either. “You can’t do this” just isn’t a sales pitch I’m buying when I need to kick some ass. Being challenged and needing help do not equate to powerlessness. Admitting that one needs helps is actually a very powerful step.
Step 2: Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.
Wait. I’m not just an alcoholic, I’m insane? Well, I guess if you’re going to feed the stigma with the use of “Anonymous,” you might as well top it with the insanity cherry. I’m a recovering alcoholic. Struggled for years. On the wagon, off the wagon, rock bottom, blahblahblah. I was never freaking insane.
Step 3: Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.
Ah, the care of God. Apparently he didn’t care until now, but if I just give up, things will turn around.
Assuming I somehow clear the previous hurdles, now I have to turn both my will and my life over. I guess this is the surrender part. Recently, I was struck by this series of tweets:
Keep fighting, but surrender. Got it. I'm sure that an AA veteran could explain that surrendering is not, in fact, "giving up" but some other nuanced action—probably in a compelling way. But, again, think about what the newcomer sees and feels with these words.
Anyway, assuming you give up your will and life, don't forget you have to give both to GOD.
This seems to be the stickiest of sticking points in the “AA vs. A—No Way” debate.
AA references God repeatedly. Occasionally, “higher power” pinch hits. Sometimes it’s God “as we understood him.” If you’ve read the Big Book (again, I have) and been to more than 3.14159 AA meetings (I’ve been to at least 100), it's easy to be left thinking GOD is the star of the show.
“Well it’s ‘higher power’ and you get to choose what that means.”
“It’s God as you understand Him.”
Those are great sentiments. I tried at one point while attending meetings to go with something like “my higher power is the synergistic power of the group.” However, when you keep hitting me specifically with “God,” I tend not to believe I get to pick. If it’s not “God” that’s important, change the language to not say “God” and “He” and “Him” over and over again.
I’m getting off track here—back to your previously scheduled Steps.
Step 4: Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.
Moral inventory? Find the parts of me that are right vs. the parts that are wrong?
There’s enough stigma surrounding alcoholism as something that one should be able to avoid with better choices or something that one should be able to choose their way out of. We don’t need Step 4 to underscore the stigma with “you need to identify the wrongness in you!”
I’m all for introspection. But being an alcoholic has nothing to do with my morality.
So now I’m ashamed, powerless, insane, surrendered, and immoral. Seems like a recovery boot camp where they’ve got to beat you down to build you up. Not my cup of tea.
Step 5: Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.
I think there’s considerable value here, except, again, why God?
Step 6: Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.
Great, now I’m ashamed, powerless, insane, surrendered, immoral, and defective. I can feel the esteem building. Struggles with my self-esteem and self-worth are part of what got me drinking so unhealthily in the first place. I surely won’t have uncomfortable feelings to drink away now. Lol.
Step 7: Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.
So let’s say my higher power is that group synergy I mentioned before. So I just say in a meeting, “hey, group, I’m messed up over here—please fix me”? I do believe in the synergistic power of groups, but if I want to change me, I have to do the work.
Steps 8-12 have only one God reference and nothing all that shame inducing. It's too bad 1-7 hold so many obstacles for many folks.
So I've been snarky and maybe a bit over the top in some of this criticism. That's partly just my style. That's partly to get your attention. So what's really my point? I think it's two-fold:
To tell struggling alcoholics who've been disillusioned with or turned off by AA that they're not alone. AA is great for many, but not for everyone.
To encourage ardent AA proponents and defenders to consider how the program might look from a different perspective.
For #1, there's comfort in realizing that your view of things isn't unique. I think the most powerful element of my first trip to rehab was coming to the understanding that other people were having similar experiences to mine. Smart people. Accomplished people. People I liked. That reduced the shame. If AA isn't your cup of tea, that's ok. It's the Starbucks of recovery programs, but it's not the only game in town. Take a look at Refuge Recovery, Recovery Dharma, Rational Recovery, or SMART Recovery. Start working with a therapist. Read quit lit. There's more than one way to skin this alcoholic cat. Try everything, including AA, but pick and choose what you ardently believe will work for you and leave the rest behind.
For #2, let me first acknowledge that AA has worked for a lot of people. Certainly more than any other named program. I'm glad it exists and if it has done anything from support you to changing or saving your life, I'm happy about that. But if you're an ardent AA proponent, please recognize it's not the only way and it's not right for everyone. Present it as an option; not the end-all, be-all solution. When it's not right for someone don't default to "they weren't ready" or "they're not a real alcoholic" or "they didn't understand the program." It's not necessarily some fault of the person if the program doesn't resonate with them.
Consider encouraging your group to step away from the religious aspects. Perhaps don't use the Lord's Prayer to open or close meetings. Consider using a version of the Serenity Prayer that doesn't include "God." I don't know how possible it is to stray from the stock AA language of the steps, but consider moving from God to higher power—either at the group level or lead a charge on a larger scale. Push to get a version of "The Big Book" written that feels at home in the 2020's instead of the 1930's. I found it a fairly awful book to read, despite it having some valuable ideas and insight in it—mostly because it's antiquated—it's patriarchal and it was obviously written by white Christians. That doesn't make it "bad" or "wrong," but it does represent an opportunity to improve and modernize as well as capture and keep more people's attention. I think part of why I occasionally see AA described as cult-like is the steadfast insistence to stick with text that was written 80+ years ago as if it were the incontrovertible and unchangeable truth of recovery.
Finally, I want to link back to a previous blog entry, The Sobriety Scorecard™. I repeatedly see accounts of people who relapse and speak of "starting over" or of having "lost their time." Geez, do I hate that sentiment. It comes from day counting, which is a centerpiece of AA. Counting days is not all bad. I've done it before and I've felt the pride of picking up a chip or just saying whatever "days sober." But I've also felt the pain of relapse for myself and in others. I've felt and seen the shame involved with the "white chip." Touting your days to the world and then falling off the wagon feels like letting people down. One of my favorite saying from AA is "progress, not perfection." There's a stark dichotomy between that sentiment and resetting a counter. I don't know what can be done about that other than maybe ease up on the importance of consecutive days. Sobriety is one thing; recovery is another. I've been in recovery for 5+ years. I've not been sober 5+ years. I'm making progress regardless of whether my scoreboard says 1 day, 100, or 1000.
Regardless of where you fall in all of this, I wish you nothing but the best of luck in your recovery. Keep working on your own. Do whatever you can to serve others. And in this National Recovery Month, if that could include a donation to help further the Alcoholisnt cause, thank you so much!
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