People in recovery love to count days. The more I’ve submerged into social media in an Alcoholisnt role, the more I’ve learned they like to share their counts too.
I’m not much of a fan. I’m calling it the Sobriety Scoreboard™ here.
That doesn’t mean it doesn’t have merit. Shifting momentum from dependence on substances to freedom from them is incredibly challenging. Staying on that recovery path is no picnic either. I get people having pride in their accomplishments and wanting to share them with others. I’ve done it myself.
I think some would point out that within online communities, people who are struggling can draw hope and inspiration from seeing others succeed. I don’t doubt it. There is power in community—particular in addiction and recovery where it’s easy to think that you’re alone in your struggles. It can be really helpful to learn that other people encounter similar strife—and not only encounter it, but overcome it. But simply posting “888 days sober today! Can’t believe it!” isn’t really comforting or inspirational. It feels more like “hey, look at my Scoreboard™!”
I know, shocker that there’s “look at me” stuff on social media!
But that’s not really the issue I take with the Sobriety Scoreboard™—my term for the (over)emphasis on day counting. My concerns are three-fold: (1) sobriety isn’t really the goal, and (2) what happens when you relapse? and (3) the comparison game can be very unhealthy.
Wait? What? The Alcoholisnt guy is saying sobriety isn’t the goal?
Well, it can be *a* goal, but recovery is about so much more than just sobriety. Sobriety is simply a physical state. A state that indicates a lack of the influence of alcohol. It’s a nice measure because it’s an easy one—you either drank or you didn’t. In the long-run, not doing something feels like a rather empty goal to me though. I started to confront my drinking problem 5+ years ago not so much because I wanted to stop drinking but because I was so disconnected and adrift in the sea of life that drinking seemed to be the only thing that made sense. And it became clear that drinking was really not the answer. I didn’t necessarily want to “be sober,” I wanted to find peace and contentment.
Now, trust me, I’ve learned repeatedly that drinking—for me—tends to put the kibosh on peace and contentment in a pretty big, hairy, goddamned hurry. But still, simply not drinking isn’t my goal. So, drinking isn’t necessarily a big, hairy failure. That, I suppose, brings me to concern #2.
Counting sober days lends itself to a model that includes just two options: perfection and failure. Stay drink-free for a year, then pop a cold one and *POOF!*—instant failure. 365 days turns to ZERO.
“Oh, but one is too many and 1,000 never enough. It never ends with one.”
Well, yes, it probably doesn’t end with one for anyone who has suffered with addiction. But it could end up with “yep, had a six-pack, felt shitty before, during, and after—nice reminder—chalk it up as a data point.” It could also end up in the hospital. I’ve done both. But the Scoreboard™ reads the same in either circumstance.
And wherever on the relapse spectrum one’s slip happens to fall, the Scoreboard™ is a recipe for shame. The person who’s “only” at 10 days can easily fall into “I only made it 10 days. Why can’t I ever make it longer? I’m broken. I suck.” The person who’s at 1,000 days can easily fall into “What kind of idiot am I? I had 1,000 days. I had this licked! Now I ruined it.”
In reality, maybe both just made a mis-step that can be recovered from if they don’t get engulfed in shaming and punishing themselves. But the Scoreboard™ facilitates that reaction. Then on top of that, you get reactions like:
I don’t at all mean to pick on these two folks (two different threads by the way even though I've made them look like they might be connected); they just provided ready examples. The phrases that get to me in those tweets are “lost your time” and “start over.” Lost time? Sober time doesn’t disappear with relapse any more than drunk time disappears in recovery. Imagine you’re someone who takes pride in that sober count. Then someone tells you it’s lost. Take the tool that someone was using to motivate them and then beat them over the head with it. Great strategy.
And starting over? Bullshit. When you head out on a long roadtrip and make a wrong turn at Albuquerque, do you drive all the way back home and make a fresh start of it? When you’re building a house and you misplace a couple of rafters, do you tear everything down and build a new foundation? Of course not. You do what you have to do to rectify the mis-step and clean up your mess and you step back on course. Progress is not lost. You don’t forget what you learned in sobriety. You take relapse as a learning opportunity and continue forward.
Which brings me to a particular incongruence in Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) around this topic. AA is probably where the popularity of day counting comes from given the tradition of handing out chips for various durations of sobriety. I’ve collected chips. It can be a fulfilling feeling. However, AA is also the program of “progress, not perfection.” Yet, what happens in AA when you relapse? Go pick up that white chip buddy. Do not pass “Go,” do not collect $200. Back to the beginning for you Ms. Imperfect. That’s some pretty powerful symbolism that actually sends a message that progress doesn’t really matter. Perfect streaks of sobriety really matter.
Concern #3 over day-counting is that as much as it might inspire some, it also can discourage others. Our society is competitive enough without turning recovery into a way to rank ourselves. The Sobriety Scorecard™ can make people minimize their accomplishments:
Someone feels like they have to qualify their day count as “not much” because there are so many triple- and quadruple-digit tweets out there. Who cares what it “seems like.” It’s progress, perfection be damned.
Keeping score can also encourage competition and that’s certainly not what recovery is about. He who dies with the longest sobriety streak doesn’t win any more than the guy with the most toys.
You also see people using their Scoreboard™ as a sort of résumé line item—as if it gives what they say some gravitas.
Congrats, James. Seriously, good for you. However, having a long sobriety streak doesn’t make you always right or make your methods or outlook appropriate for everyone. (This tweet resulted from me agreeing with someone that sponsorship is not the only way to be of service to other alcoholics—I pointed out other ways to be of service.)
Speaking of my book, the discussion of comparing and competing via Sobriety Scorecard made me think of this poem from Unabashed: Breaking the Bottle:
Bottom line is: do what you feel is best for you. I’m not telling anyone to stop keeping track of their days. I would suggest that reflecting on why you do so and why you share it might be helpful though. For those struggling to find their recovery path, know that keeping score with a sobriety streak is far from the be-all, end-all of arbiters. You get to define what success looks like for you. And if or how you measure it. And if or how you publicize it. Collecting AA chips or tracking days isn’t the only option or the right option for everyone.
Finally, during this National Recovery Month, please consider making a generous donation to Alcoholisnt!
Comments