step programs

Are you judging others’ recovery? Why?

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Only recently have I begun discussing addiction on online message boards.

And, not to be judgmental, but… everyone judges.

Hardcore.


“Your recovery’s a bit pitchy for me. Keep coming back, dawg.”
“Um…I like that you’re trying! Pick up a white keytag on your way out!”
“Not in a step program? Dreadful. It’s a no for me. NEXT.”

But, of all the stuff they judge, judging others’ recovery – might just take the sober-anniversary cake. Especially when it comes to AA or the other step programs. I’m not sure why, but people love to hate on the program. It’s free. It helps people. And for those it doesn’t, you can leave and find another way. After saying (repeatedly) that I dug some of the step program stuff, but not all of it, I was immediately attacked. And, almost never, it seemed like people could never give me either A.) their personal story about failure with AA or B.) what has worked for them. All I hear is this fabricated stat about “zero percent efficacy”.


(Seriously. At least make up a fail or success recovery story if you’re gonna lie.)

And – don’t get me wrong – the born again AA vultures on there started nipping at my comment carcass too. “Why you be cherry pickin’? It works if you work it!” And you know what? Everyone’s right. If it was a giant fail for the anti-anonymouser attacking me, then – yep – it doesn’t work. For him. And, if working the steps exactly worked for homegirl with an anime avatar (who was at a worrying level of worried about some stranger’s recovery), then it does work. For her.

Confused?

Don’t be. It’s simple. Addicts, while we have heaps in common, handle recovery differently. And that loaded term – “recovery” – is something whose success relies on your definition of it. Is staying clean crucial and does that come before everything else? Yes. But is that all there is to it? No. And that’s where you might differ with a given program. For me, personally, I’m not indefinitely disallowing myself contact with people, places, and things of my past. For the most part? Yes. That’s an optimal idea. But what I am also doing, is getting honest with myself. I go to those AA or NA rooms (because: free) to hear some free ideas that might resonate with me. But, instead of relying on that external voice solely to dictate my recovery, I supplement it with some meditation. Just to see how it settles. Because, once you let the noise of others’ advice and your own inner thought reel subside, something happens.

You hear the truth.

You glean what you need.

Example? Per my former sponsor’s suggestion, I shouldn’t’ve gone to a family gathering that had alcohol. Per my meditation session, however, I came to realize I could have the best of both worlds. It didn’t need to be a me-centric issue. All I had to do was tell my family my concerns, let them know I was amped to see them all, but also warned that if I needed to leave, it’s just ’cause the drinking was wearing on my “feelz”.


(Or, ya know, witnessing the typical emo-allergic runs-in-the-family reaction to too much wine, for that matter…)

All joking aside, that gave me a chance to do two things. First, it let me reinforce the importance of my recovery to both myself and them by saying it out loud. Second, it also gave me a chance to clear the air for both of us and be honest – instead of trying to pretend I was “fine” around wine the whole time.

Being humble enough to accept where you’re at’s a biggie in recovery.

Trying to explain this to either extreme, however, is tantamount to brick wall banter. And I’m just now becoming more understanding as to why. People want something black and white they can follow every day. They want it laid out for them by others. They don’t want to make the effort of letting go of thought and simmering in their inner wisdom for a while. Why? Because there are demons to be dealt with down there, too, sometimes. But those poor bastards don’t know what they’re missing, though. Because, if they did – if they just met those demons head on – they’d also understand that what they need may vary from day to day. Change is the nature of reality. And for me, that means that relying on a static system that never makes concessions (except with using, obviously) could make my success in recovery difficult.


(But, again, if it works for you – I’m not knocking it.)

And, deep down, I think people who pretend a system’s working when it isn’t know that’s true. And they hate accepting that fact. (Cognitive dissonance, I think they call that.) So, what do they do? They yell at you. They yell whether they like the program or loathe it. Why? Because people are desperate not only to have their values be accepted – but to push their value system on others – if and when they don’t have full faith in what they’re doing.

That’s just a telltale sign of their own failure. When something’s not enough for you – just you, you start trying to impose it. Because if you can make someone else believe it, then maybe – just maybe – that makes your belief more true to you. And that goes for whether you’re pro or con’ing a program. All I know is that people who believe something deeply, don’t need to get defensive on its behalf. And those who’ve found success another way? Well, they would be talking about their success with that – not focusing on how much they hate another program they didn’t like. Those whose faith is ultimate, don’t need to convince anyone because we’re convinced. And that’s sufficient. That’s where that meditation thing came in so handy for me. I know that when I sit in silence and sift out the bullshiz, calm will come. Sometimes immediate answers do, too. But even if they don’t, I’m relieved of that stressed state from which I typically end up making addict-brained decisions.


(Protip, you don’t need an ashram, special garb, oceanfront, or yoga mat to do it, either.)

It’s a bummer that something like AA doesn’t work for many. (Wouldn’t a blanket solution be great?) But, again, it’s awesome for the innumerable others it does help. If I’m being honest, I’ve seen both sides’ve the sober coin sitting in the rooms. So, so long as you’re focused on getting or staying clean and recovering – don’t beat yourself up for giving something an open-minded chance (I stuck it out 90 days) and still voting no on the program. You don’t have to let the pushy opinions of others affect yours. They’re just people. And if they’re imposing something on you (especially in AA or NA), then they’re failing at their own program by missing one of the main themes: attraction, not promotion. There are other options, my friend. Actively seek them out if you’ve got doubts after 90 days. The only thing I will say is this: I just wish people in any program were first and foremost taught the self – and situational – awarenes to think outside the box when what they’re doing isn’t working. And to ask themselves, “What can I change? What else do I need to do? Just because AA doesn’t feel like the right fit for me – does that mean nothing will?” And then seek out an appropriate alternative – versus returning to the chemical problem as a solution.

In sum?

I encourage meditation paired with giving a recovery program a solid try for 90 days.

And then? Regroup, see how it’s working for you, adjust as needed, and keep moving.

Best of luck, my aspiring reformed fiends.

Recovery versus relapse: is there any in between?

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“If you are not working on recovery you are working on a relapse.”

Is it true?

It’s a phrase many reformed fiends and drinkers in the step programs employ as a reminder of the daunting relapse monster. And for many -A (AA, NA, OA…) haters, it’s met with a bit of resistance. Why? Well, after chomping on this cognitive wad of gum for a bit, I suppose, in a way, I do kinda get why some reject it. I mean, there’s no statistical evidence. I don’t ever remember partaking in the annual lush or junkie census regarding the authenticity of this motto.

Yet, on the other hand, I suppose it all depends on how you define “recovery”.

Taking the phrase at face value, it’s meant to simply be one of those typical motivational idioms. Nothing more. Just a recovery revised version of that whole “if you fail to plan, you plan to fail” sayings I always see in inspographic form on my LinkedIn feed. (Don’t pretend you haven’t seen ’em too.) That said, that recovery doesn’t have to happen in a specific program. Even the one you picked it up from – when you picked up a white keytag or newcomer coin. Whether you find the first steps of your recovery in a step program or somewhere totally different is irrelevant; the point is that an addict, suddenly stripped of his or her chemical comfort, needs some sort of behavioral modification plan on board after getting clean. Something to replace those old habits, ya know?

If you’re overweight, you don’t lose weight and keep it off by just quitting eating, do you? Not so much. You’ve got to sub in healthy diet, exercise, and learn some self love if you want to slim down in a healthy, functional, and sustainable way. Otherwise, you’re just sitting around thinking, “This is normally when I’d be enjoying my third helping of my signature butter, cheese, grease, meat casserole – and breaking into a light sweat…” Some mods to your physical and mental regimens are required to arrive at lasting change.

Likewise, healthy new routines, after exiting addiction, interrupt that daily mind cycle of “when’s drink or fix number next?” And an appropriate support or an expert assistance system (even if it’s not 12 step based) to whom you can vent, helps you dredge up those demons that got you using in the first place. Once you can exorcise those emotional gargoyles squatting in your subconscious, you’re a lot less likely to use. For me, sometimes just being around addicts or alcoholics willing to get honest about their own defects or horror stories helps do exactly that, I think. (Yes, even now, after years clean.) For others, calling in the paid pros is the only way. For others who can afford overpriced rehab resorts – hey – whatever floats your yacht that brought you to seaside detox.


Chaise chair chick: “Hey, it’s pretty easy to stay clean with this view and without douchebag bosses or obligations.”
Flexing dude in hat: “I’ll drink to that. Probably within a week of leaving here, lol!”

So long as the new tips stick when you reintegrate into real life, I ain’t judging.

Whatever you do, if you work on making it work, I totally respect that.

Either way, that’s the takeaway I get when I hear that old adage about “working on recovery versus relapse”. It’s not necessarily, scientifically, statistically accurate for all. But for hardcore addicts aware that the desired fix equals prison, six feet beneath, or Arkham – they also often realize that marinating in their old ways is a voluntary venture into Russian Roulette. And that has them rushing back to recovery.

In a nutshell: it’s very, very easy to resume old, bad habits.

It’s less easy if you’ve got healthy inner and outer ones to replace them.

Where you get them’s ultimately up to you.

Are step programs a cure or a cult?

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So, you’ve chosen a step program as part of your new way of living.

And suddenly everyone (who’s never been in a program themselves) has a snide opinion about it.

It’s hard enough voluntarily initiating a quest to renovate your mind, body, and soul by ripping the scabs off every wound you’ve been anesthetizing for so long. That’s challenging in and of itself. But the cherry on top of this self-eviscerating sundae? When you realize that some around you have their own opinions about such programs. I myself, while giving meetings a try, found that among those I opened up to – there were at least a couple (out of three) who managed to teleport a passive aggressive eye-roll at me via tone of text (an impressive, but not impossible feat sans any actual emoji). And why? Well, the general consensus I was getting was that it was just another addiction – and a cult. Now, while concepts counter to the literature are generally frowned upon in the rooms, I remain open-minded (which actually the first step itself encourages). Also, as a woman of science, I question everything. Even if it’s quietly on my own. Are step meetings just another addiction? A crutch? Is it just a cult? Yes, I wondered this even before my “friends” chimed in with their two cents about coins for clean time.

So, let’s start with the first one by considering what we’re even talking about: a program.

Whether or not you realize (or like it), we all live according to some basic programming. The things you like, say, and do by rote are often part of your programming. For some, their program is a basic 9 to 5, sandwiched between Starbucks, carbon monoxide infused commutes, and caring for a family. For some, it’s the getting and using of mind altering chemicals, sandwiched between fleeting reprieves from misery and the insane belief that you’re carrying out a sustainable way of living. Whatever your general ritual is – is your programming. So what if you’re that latter junkie or drunkie, trying to sober up, and not sure how to cope with life? The only way to truly change someone like this – who’s clearly sad enough at their nougaty center if they’re willing to self-destruct slowly in order to avoid pain – is compassion, empathy, and – most importantly – a shiny new program to replace the god-awful one you’ve been trying to get by with on your own.

This is what a step program offers. You meet with others who can identify to vent about the bad stuff and share the good. You do the steps and practice the principles in order to learn a better way to get by. So why isn’t just a year or so enough? Why do people keep returning? I suppose it’s because the longer you’ve been addicted to something, the harder it is to prevent it from surfacing up over your favorable “replaced” habit. Also, we always need a support system of like-minded folk, and some people can’t find that outside the rooms. Plus, in a world full of distractions and where people marvel at you for staying sober (or don’t even invite you out at all ‘cause you’re a “nondrinker” and thus tantamount to a sideshow oddity), it can be kinda helpful to have a constant reminder of why you chose this route in the first place. Not everyone needs that; but if you do, you don’t have to consider meetings a crutch anymore than weekly mass for Christians is. The only difference is – the program is spiritual – not religious. That is to say, there’s no deity at the center.

Which leads us to the next question: is it a cult?

Well, how about you and Webster decide. Here’s just one definition for “cult”:

“A system of religious veneration and devotion directed toward a particular figure or object.”

(Ah, not so much. Not a religion. Let’s try another.)

“A misplaced or excessive admiration for a particular person or thing.”

(Not quite. They are pretty focused on abstinence, but I wouldn’t call it admiration. Next?)

“A relatively small group of people having religious beliefs or practices regarded by others as strange or sinister.”

Ah! There we go. I knew we’d hit on something that awkwardly fit, eventually.

So, yeah, maybe the step programs are cult-like in the sub-article, second bullet definition sense of the word. Even though there’s no Hubbard-esque leader at our center, it technically fits because there are “others” (as my pontificating pals – and maybe a few of yours – have demonstrated) who consider it “strange”. (Mostly because they don’t get it, have never attended, and – above all – have likely never been addicts themselves; so I wouldn’t expect them to). But while we’re at it, we might as well say all of American culture is a cult – that is, to any “others” who don’t live here and find Western practices horrifying. It’s too general a definition. So much can fit in there. But, in the end, it’s all just words. Crutch. Cult. If it works for you so that you don’t go back to living at the bottom of a vodka or oxy bottle, who cares what they call it? Who cares what they think, for that matter? If you’re in it for the same reasons as most folk I know, it ain’t about a popular opinion poll – but a matter of your life. Or death.

So, if you like, go ahead. Put the recovering addicts in that bucket.

Just don’t expect the kool-aid at the meetings to be nearly as fun as Jim Jones’.

Or Jesus’ for that matter.