Why You Should Break Your Anonymity Too

Anonymity NursingLast week, I reopened the conversation about anonymity. For years now, I have written this blog, but then I took a few months off. When I came back, I received several inquiries and comments regarding my breaking of my anonymity. One AA informed me that behind my back there is a wave of AA disapproval. Another woman, in the nicest possible way, sent me a bunch of Internet links in case I was just ignorant.

So for the record, I would like to say I am neither belligerent, nor am I ignorant. Years and years ago, I read once in a book that people of faith often think atheists and agnostics do not really understand God, so if God were simply explained to them, the atheists and agnostics would come to believe. This book said nothing could be further from the truth- that because of the consequences of denying God is so heavy, atheists and agnostics actually think a lot about God.

That is how I feel about anonymity. To think that I have not thought about the lasting repercussions of breaking my anonymity is ridiculous. I understand on a visceral level the choice I have made and the consequences it has. I know some AAs disapprove. I know some members of my family disapprove. I know I am one Google search away from my employer, my professors, and even my students knowing I am an alcoholic. To think I do it because of my ego is literally one of the shallowest thoughts I have ever heard voiced. No one would put oneself on blast, under scrutiny from friends, family, normies, and AA alike for the sake of ego.

So, why, then, do I break my anonymity? I have chosen to break my anonymity not because anonymity as a tradition isn’t important; there is just something more important on the line. And it is the reason I think everyone should break his/her anonymity. I think it is the reason why you, the reader of this post, should break your anonymity.

Alcoholism and addiction is not well understood. One of the most honest lines in the Big Book is, “If a person has cancer all are sorry for him and no one is angry or hurt. But not so with the alcoholic illness, for with it there goes annihilation of all things worthwhile in life. It engulfs all whose lives touch the sufferer’s. It brings misunderstanding, fierce resentment…” (18).

This line is true. But it’s true because we let it be true. We allow the misunderstanding because we do not correct it. We are co-conspirators in the narrative because we do not change the dialogue.

With no other disease do those affected by it stand in the shadows. No one would ever attack the character of one who suffers from ALS or Parkinson’s. If someone has cancer and talks about his or her disease, remedy, and course of treatment, no one would call them prideful. Do those with Alzheimer’s accuse each other of selfish motives when advocating for reform and research? And yet, we alcoholics do that all the time. Why? I do not understand why we are so combative with each other.

Eighty years ago, one hundred people got together. They didn’t know how the book would be received. They didn’t know if the their idea would work. And they chose to leave their names off it. Fifteen years later, the group, for entirely different reasons and reflecting their culture of the 1950s, voted on the eleventh tradition.

Now it is 2016. Society and culture has once again changed. If in this information age, we choose not to inform, I believe we are doing a massive disservice the next generations of alcoholics and addicts. Instead of people being able to reach out and ask for help the way that anyone who is sick can and should ask for help, we are going to continue to perpetuate the current societal misunderstandings Bill wrote about in 1939. In meetings I often hear, “We are not bad people getting good. We are sick people getting well.” Then why do we act as if we are bad in public?

According to the National Council on Alcohol and Drug Dependence,

“17.6 million people, or one in every 12 adults, suffer from alcohol abuse or dependence along with several million more who engage in risky, binge drinking patterns that could lead to alcohol problems…More than half of all adults have a family history of alcoholism or problem drinking, and more than 7 million children live in a household where at least one parent is dependent on or has abused alcohol…

  • 88,000 deaths are annually attributed to excessive alcohol use
  • Alcoholism is the 3rd leading lifestyle-related cause of death in the nation

17.6 Million.

I am an alcoholic, yes, but I am a sober alcoholic. That only happened because one day I was so beaten down that the stigma didn’t matter anymore. But I wonder how many people never get past the stigma and die as a consequence. I wonder what would happened if we if we lowered the threshold of shame. I wondered if people stopped whispering and instead talked openly, like we do about tobacco addiction, if we encouraged health rather than shaming weakness, if the entire discourse would not be changed.

I had a friend tell me that she thought about coming out to her church. Her stepfather inquired as to her motive, was it not to be the one token alcoholic in the bunch? Was she not motivated by pride? It pained me when she relayed this story. I love my friend, and I like and respect her stepfather. It makes me uncomfortable to disagree with him. But yes, exactly! Just because she is 1, doesn’t mean she is the only 1. I bet there another 5 or 10 or 200 others who also haven’t come out at that church. She isn’t “the 1.” She just might be the first 1.

And I hope she is. I hope we all are.

I believe in AA. I owe it my life. But I also owe it to the future to not walk in shame.

We can regain anonymity when we are just one in 17.6 million people openly engaging in the conversation about alcoholism. It is just when we are the 1 that people notice us.

 

Breaking my Anonymity

In the past moAnonymity Accidentnth, I have had a couple of people email me asking me about my decision to break my anonymity. I want to address this issue. My thoughts have evolved over the past couple of years since I started this blog, but I felt like I needed to re-post the original blog as a point of reference. This original post was published on September 24, 2014. I would also like to add that if someone would like to write the post about why anonymity should be kept, I would greatly appreciate it. I had made this offer originally to the people who emailed me, but I never heard back from them. I hope someone will volunteer to do it. And without further ado…

I have been writing today’s post on and off again for the last week. It has been very difficult. I think the reason is that I am walking a fine line of between explanation and justification. I keep slipping into a defensive tone, like I am on guard against possible recriminations. So, with a deep breath, I am going to start over.

Today’s writing is the third in a series of posts. If you are just joining the conversation, you might want to look to the right hand side of the screen. It should show Post One, “How I became an Alcoholic” and Post Two, “What it’s like Now.” They will explain my backstory and my motivation for writing this little series.

So, this third part addresses the final question: Why I write so publicly about my alcoholism.

Let me start off by saying that I truly enjoy writing. I have always enjoyed voicing my thoughts on paper. In fact, I think I write more coherently than I speak. In my mind, my words are clean and precise, but when I speak, they come out in a jumble. When I get the chance to write, edit, rephrase, and yes, start over when I begin to sound defensive, I feel a lot calmer.

AA teaches me to be honest today. And I honestly do not care about if anyone knows I am a recovering alcoholic. Additionally, I am not supposed to live in fear. The only reason I could come up with for not proclaiming my alcoholism is fear of what other alcoholics would say. “What? Oh no!” you say. “Other alcoholics? You meant Normies.” No, no I did not. I’ve run that one over and over again in my own head. It sounds crazy, but it’s true. I have never had anyone condemned my recovery to my face. Usually, people are quite nice and supportive. Maybe a little shocked, but encouraging none-the-less. Alcoholics, though, man, we can be ruthless. Alcoholics, by and large, are generally really intelligent people and we are not afraid to pass judgment and speak our minds. We are kinda a scary organization, to be quite honest. Thank gosh our main objective is staying sober and not world domination.

Okay, here are the main reasons I get for not proclaiming myself an alcoholic. 1) The second A of AA. Anonymity. I think it is a sticky widget. According to the preface of the Big Book, the reason for anonymity is simple. “It is important to stay anonymous because we are too few, at present to handle the overwhelming number of personal appeals which may result from this publication.” The amount of personal appeals I have received is zero. And I have plenty of time. 2) The Eleventh and Twelfth Traditions. Okay, you may have me here. I’ve read them a few times, and yet, I am still not clear on the ideas. But I know I am not promoting. I’ve said time and again, I speak for no one other than myself. 3) The idea that if an alcoholic is public and then relapses, the public will assume AA as an organization, and not the individual, is somehow to blame. I’ve never really gotten this argument either. Alcoholism and drug addiction are so life consuming that for a person to stop for even a week or a month is a huge accomplishment. To disregard this clean time as a blanket failure of AA is near sighted at best. Besides, I have never actually heard this said by a single Normie ever. It is always said to me by an AA speaking on behalf of society. Has anyone ever actually heard the news condemn AA when a celebrity has failed to maintain sobriety? I should YouTube it.

So, why I write about my alcoholism… (I cringe a little as I write this because I fear that some might find me morally grandstanding. That is not the case at all. I am a flawed individual. I own every part of that.) I think that publicly proclaiming my alcoholism is the morally right thing to do. That’s it. I write about my alcoholism because I think I should. Pure and simple.

“Alcoholic” is a very heavy label. Because alcoholism and drug addiction is so stigmatized in modern society (especially for women), most people keep their anonymity for fear of societal backlash. In fact, just today I had lunch with a friend who told me she is worried that if her boss knew she was an alcoholic, the boss would use that information against my friend. I absolutely get that. Not for a second do I judge my friend for her decision to maintain anonymity.

My personal feeling, though, regarding just me, is that if I truly believe that my alcoholism is genetically predisposed, which I do, then I should be no more ashamed or embarrassed by my disease than I am of my hair color or my skin tone. I am not responsible for my disease. With that said, I am 100% responsible for my recovery, what I do with my disease once I am diagnosed. If I choose to disregard my alcoholism and indulge in my obsession, I will no doubt commit ludicrous and outrageous acts, cut myself off from those who love me, lie, cheat, and steal. Then, I should absolutely be ashamed of my actions. But stopping, asking for help, living by a moral code and a set of principles, and proclaiming a belief in something holier and deeper than the material is not, nor should it be, shameful. The reality is, I do not think it is embarrassing that I am a recovered alcoholic. The embarrassing part is if I had never stopped.

I belong to a small minority that feels that by clinging to anonymity, we alcoholics help perpetuate the stigma of an alcoholic rather than the creating a new discourse about recovery. I remember a person saying in a meeting once, “I didn’t care about my anonymity when I was out there drinking.” That’s the language I understand. I have the luxury to be in a situation where I can proclaim my alcoholism, but even if I couldn’t, I probably still would. I think it is important. I write because I think I should. If I treat my disease as a source of embarrassment and shame, why in the world would I be surprised when others do the same?

Struggling to Find my Higher Power

AA Nighthawks By: Jeff J.

It’s an early Sunday evening, and I am required to attend an AA meeting at the local Alano Club. I have a choice between the speaker meeting downstairs, or the book study upstairs. Both start at 7pm, but there’s a problem. Both meetings are full, and there’s not a seat to be had at either. I am outside the downstairs meeting, finishing up my cigarette, when the community director comes by and tells me to get inside. I have been at my new rehab for less than two days. I haven’t found a sponsor yet. My head is spinning. I’m pissed, and my attitude sucks. Old behavior is begging to get out. That’s it. I say to myself. I don’t need this crap. I am a survivor who has spent his share of nights on the streets. I ask God one last time for help. “Did you bring me 1200 miles from my home in Texas for this??” Another minute passes as I hear the speaker meeting getting underway. Nope, this isn’t for me. I’m out of here. I start walking. Out of the blue, I hear a girl’s voice from behind asking, “Hey Jeff, where are you going?” I am 37 years old at the time, fresh out of detox, after years of alcohol and substance abuse.

First, a little background. My story isn’t unique. I started drinking at age 12, got drunk on the weekends at 13, and started smoking weed at 15. I loved the combination of weed and alcohol because it put me right where I wanted to be­— under the table. Somehow I graduated from high school, and earned a golf scholarship to a private university in my hometown of Austin, Texas. There were way too many distractions for a burgeoning alcoholic in Austin in the early ’80s. I flunked out after one semester and lost the scholarship. I started experimenting with harder drugs and fell in love with cocaine soon after.

I tried school again two years later. I joined a fraternity. My drinking grew exponentially, as did my substance intake. I was elected president of my fraternity, because I led by example. I was a hard partying 20-year-old leading a group of hard partying 20 somethings. It was the best of times.

It was during this stint of college that I was first introduced to crack cocaine. I dabbled with crack my first few years out of college. You know, a weekend thing, and I was in total control. After all, my drinking had decreased since college, and I was a successful weekend warrior able to hold down a job. This scenario continued into my 30s, but with some differences. I started losing jobs at a more frequent rate. My relationships with people started deteriorating. I tried to finish college in my early 30s, but I quit school, once again, because my drinking and drugging was my first priority. I lost my best friend at age 33 to a heart attack, and my life started spinning out of control proportionally to my drinking and using. At 36, I had lost pretty much everything, and I found myself homeless on the streets of Austin. I turned 37 on the streets in May of 1999. If I ever write a book about my life, an entire chapter could be devoted to the day of July 29, 1999: that was the day I said to myself, “Self, this isn’t what you bargained for.” Long story short, I picked up a pay phone and made a call that would change my life. I spoke at length with a gentleman named Bill S. Within 48 hours, I was on a plane heading to California for detox and a long-term rehab. I was done.

The person belonging to that girl’s voice was Lisa, someone I had met when I checked into rehab. She was at my first Friday night AA meeting as a resident. I chose AA over CA and NA because my alcoholism was the alpha and the omega when it came to everything that happened in my life the past 20 years. For me, I also found more solution in the meetings of AA.

I turned to Lisa as I was walking away and said, “I am out of here.” She could see my head was spinning, and she knew of a local coffee shop nearby where we could talk. She convinced me to come have a cup of coffee with her. I begrudgingly agreed, assuring her that it wouldn’t help, and my mind was made up. We spent the next 2-3 hours exchanging stories, getting to know each other, and her gaining my trust. Like the phone call I had made a week earlier, this conversation would change my life.

Lisa convinced me to sleep on it and make a decision about what to do in the morning. We also spoke at length that night about my Higher Power. I told Lisa that I was struggling with the concept of having and maintaining a conscious contact with my Higher Power, who I knew to be God. I had this grand notion that God would appear before me and say “GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER!” How grandiose of me. I knew deep down inside that wouldn’t cut it regarding a conscious contact. I knew I could do the steps and vigorously participate in AA, but I was genuinely concerned about not having that connection with God that people in the program told me was essential to my sobriety. Lisa also convinced me that, in time, I would make that connection with God that I desperately wanted to make. I went home that night to my sober house unsure what the next day would bring. I remember humming the classic Clash tune “Should I Stay or Should I Go?” on the way home.

I woke the next morning to my community director informing me that because I missed the required meeting from the night before, I would be under “house arrest” for the day and would not be able to participate in any daily activities. I was also informed that any more missed meetings after that day would result in more punitive actions. Great. I had been here less than three days and I was already in the doghouse. Little did I know that missing that meeting with Lisa was the start of many life-changing epiphanies that would affect my recovery in a positive way.

I had a good breakfast, and headed for the showers. While in the shower, I reflected on what had happened the night before. I realized that the thought of leaving had not entered my mind until that moment. Then, BOOM, it happened. A feeling of calm was taking hold in my body from my head to my toes. It was a feeling I had never experienced before that moment. I knew at that moment that everything was going to be OK. It was at that moment that I saw clear as day that God had answered my short prayer from the night before and sent Lisa to talk to me, and that He spoke to me that night, through Lisa. “SO THAT’S HOW IT WORKS!” I exclaimed. The angst I felt about not connecting to God was gone. He speaks to us through each other. Amazing. My life would never be the same, and I embraced it. I remember it like it was yesterday.

I haven’t forgotten it to this day. That was 16 years ago. My life continues to amaze.

Thank God the elevator was broken.

And Just Like That, Poof! They’re Gone

Written by: Kristen H.

Green Eyed Monster

“We humbly asked God to remove our shortcomings.”

And just like that, poof! They’re gone. Never to rear their ugly heads again. All my character defects, the flaws in my soul, the bad habits and polluted thinking I’ve picked up along the walkway of life, they’re gone! Because my Higher Power removed them. And I just have to do my best to live these new basic principles daily, and I won’t ever have to worry about my ugly insides coming out.

That’s what I thought.

This week, though, I’ve discovered that I was wrong. Because here I am struggling with jealousy. Big time. For days on end, even after praying about it. It is making me think negative thoughts. It is making me utter snarky comments. Most of all, I don’t like the way it makes me feel inside – like a dark twisting in my gut. It’s kind of the same feeling I had when I was getting ready to do my fifth step with my sponsor, not too long ago. I remember the word FEAR coming up a lot. This fear and insecurity is what has made the ugly green monster come out now.

About half way through my fifth step my sponsor told me, “You keep comparing yourself to other people and thinking you don’t measure up. But you’re measuring their OUTsides to your INsides. That’s like apples and oranges.”

And it seems that’s what I’m doing now, too.

This jealousy came about when my husband started running as a way to stay off cigarettes. I have nothing against running. I run! But he was a track star in high school, so running comes naturally to him and he enjoys it. He found some other people who feel the same way. Turns out, there’s a local Running Club. Cool, right? Yeah! I’m excited for him. Until I see a picture of their morning run group and there’s 2 girls in it. (Why did I think this running group was all male?) All of a sudden, my insecurities have come back and I am judging these women based on a photo.

“She’s blonde. I wish I were blonde.” … “She has a great figure. Why can’t I have that figure?”

I have to get over this. I am a supportive wife.

I start with the serenity prayer, and begin talking this over with my Higher Power. I realize that I am not going to change the fact that he runs with the club or the way these females look. What can I change? Me. I realize the problem is within ME. I read some spiritual literature and am reminded that I am just the way I am, by design…. That my Higher Power made me, and I should be proud of that. There is nothing wrong with me! My disease tells me I’m not good enough. But I don’t believe it today… because I don’t have to live like that anymore.

And, just like that, the jealousy gets put back up on the shelf with the other defects where I guess it has been residing all this time.

 

A New Freedom and a New Happiness

The Promises

**This week’s post is written by my pen-pal Nichole Barry-Kroger. Although we share a last name, and though I now think of her as a sister, we are not actually related. Nichole is currently serving an eighteen month prison sentence in a South Dakota women’s facility for driving while intoxicated.**

For a long time, I thought the promises in the Big Book were something that didn’t apply to a person like me. I just didn’t ever look forward to them happening to me because I, of course, must be unique. My past has been full of people who had regularly told me I was useless, stupid, fat, ugly, and the list goes on. My self-esteem was drug down so low that I thought it could happen for everyone else, but not for someone as stupid as myself.

Now, I sit here in prison at the age of 39, not even feeling sorry for myself anymore. While I was awaiting sentencing, I was in an outpatient treatment, aftercare, got a sponsor, had a recovery coach, went to three meetings a week, and got involved in church again.

These were all great things for me because I can cope a lot better with my situation now. I would be lost and possibly using if I hadn’t done all of these things. I have twenty-eight months clean and sober as of right now. I sometimes look back and wish I could have done all of these things before it came to all of this, but this is what it took, I suppose. Of course, I get down and sad, and sometimes really lonely for my family, but it passes.

I know I have a great and bright future, and my family is anxious for me to come home. In the Big Book, on page 83, it says, “We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness.” I used to wonder what that would even feel like, but now, even in prison, I can feel that. I actually feel happiness and hopeful for once in my life.

Sure, I still have the promises coming true because it doesn’t just happen all at once. I still regret the past sometimes and feel guilt over it, but I don’t want to get drunk over it. I still fear people sometimes and economic insecurity, but time will get me over these things with God and AA. I look forward to helping others with these same problems and being useful again in our AA and church communities. Even from prison, I can see that the AA promises are coming true for me, and they can for anyone if you put the work in.

God is definitely doing for me what I could not do for myself!

 

The Impact of Grammar on Recovery

The Gift of DesperationSometimes, my mind wanders during a meeting into a whole other area of thought. This happened recently in a meeting about resting on one’s laurels. I have been hearing this topic a lot lately, and inevitably someone always says, “I got the gift of desperation.” I think I ponder individual words on a level most people do not. I presume it is what makes me a great English teacher, if at times a somewhat irritating friend and wife. (What do you mean I am mostly kind-hearted!??) I digress.

In the past, when confronted with the “gift of desperation,” I have been caught up with the word “gift” and all that connotes. But today a new thought occurred to me as I lost track of the meeting, and that was the word “got,” more specifically, about the simple past tense of the word “got.”

English is an odd language. It stands out form other languages because its root is the Germanic language. When German warriors invaded England in the 7th century, they brought with them their language. Four hundred years later, Britain was attacked and held by a section of France called Normandy. Consequently, the English language went through a radicalization process changing largely into what might be considered a French/German hybrid or a Latin/German hybrid since French was originally an offshoot of Latin. The grammar system by which English is based reflects this Latin influence.

English has a variety of tenses that all define or denote a different place in time in which an action, the verb, takes place. Did something happen in the past? Did something happen in the past and finished before another thing in the past happened? Or did it happen in the past and is still happening today? It is very precise. And maybe exactly because of this precision, in conjunction with the lack of grammar taught in schools today, these tenses have fallen out of favor. People do not know how to use them, or if they do use them in academic or business environments, they do not use them in common speaking. Instead, people tend to fall back on the so-called “simple” tenses, favoring context to convey time.

This is not unheard of in other languages. In fact, many non-Latin influenced languages have much simpler forms of verb tenses. Some languages, Mandarin being the most widely spoken, have no tenses at all.

And then all this thought reminded me of a Ted Talk I heard about the philosophical, economic, and medical consequences of tenses on cultures.

Keith Chen speaks that cultures with future tenses allow people to distance themselves from the future, unlike the cultures who do not differentiate the present from the future. Subconsciously, languages that differentiate the future have cultures that save less money and have less impulse control because they seem unaffected by the actions of today, but rather set off into the distant future.

I cannot help but wonder how language we use in recovery affects our recovery. We speak of a daily reprieve and a “spiritual bank” from which to draw, but Chen might argue we do not fully and consciously understand how the repercussions of our past acts, and the acts we perform today, have on our future.

“I got the gift of desperation.” Grammatically, it would mean that I got it, but no longer have it. Maybe, a better way by which to speak of it would be the present perfect progressive tense indicating an action continuing from the past into the present and possible into the future. “I have been receiving the gift of desperation.” Not an over and done task, but a continuing act.

Or maybe better yet, no tenses at all. Yesterday, I have the gift of desperation. Today, I have the gift of desperation. Tomorrow, I have the gift of desperation.

Yesterday, I recover. Today, I recover. Tomorrow, I recover.