Mr. SponsorPants

...and then they said that thing I hate

 

 

SPONSEE: ... and then they said that thing I hate.

Mr. SponsorPants: That thing you...?  Ooooh.  You mean...

SPONSEE: Yeah. 'Don't drink No Matter What.'  It sounded so smarmy and bullshit to me.  I swear, I could hear them capitalize it.  Sometimes the AA sayings make me want to...

Mr. SP:  It's funny.

SPONSEE:  What, that I hate that?

Mr. SP: Well not funny Ha-ha.  It's just that, when I was new, that really helped me.

SPONSEE:  Really?  It did? 

Mr. SP:  Yeah.  I used to say it out loud to myself.  Looking in the mirror.  Or driving.  I think I said it out loud a lot in the car, for some reason:  'I don't drink no matter what.'  And then I would list all the 'no matter what's' I could think of.

SPONSEE:  Wait, a car?

Mr. SP:  Yeah.

SPONSEE:  I thought you got sober when people were riding around on dinosaurs or something.

Mr. SP:  I did.  At my first meeting, they didn't give out Welcome Chips, they gave me a Welcome Flint Arrow Head.

SPONSEE:  D'oh! That was pretty good.  I thought you were going to say 'fire.'

Mr. SP:  I used that one already.

SPONSEE:  Like what were all the 'no matter what's' you would say?

Mr. SP:  I used to say to myself (a lot) 'I don't drink no matter what.  No matter how angry or frightened or lonely or bored or horny or frightened or how expensive the wine or how free the beer or how important the occasion...'

SPONSEE:  You said 'frightened' twice.

Mr. SP:  I was often very scared.

SPONSEE: But it makes me so... so angry.  I mean... I have... it's... with all my relapses, I feel like I DO drink no matter what.  I don't get how that's supposed to make me... I don't know, what does it... like when you were new, it made you feel stronger?  More able to say 'no' or something?  Made you less afraid?

Mr. SP:  Oh God, no!  No wonder it makes you... saying 'I don't drink no matter what' isn't about trying to make me stronger... it's not about helping my will.  It's about helping my memory.  It's a reminder.  Like a little pilot light I could keep burning when that infamous 'curious mental blank spot' would begin to form and the brainfog would start to roll in.

SPONSEE:  Oh.  Well.  I guess I never thought of it like that. I always just felt like everyone got it and I didn't.

Mr. SP:  I promise, no one gets anything in any way that you don't -- we all just... it's hard for each of us, but sometimes hard in different ways.  But all you have to do is...

SPONSEE: ... worry about not picking up a drink today.  Yes, yes. Do you ever get tired of telling me that?

Mr. SP:  No.

SPONSEE: ...

               ...

               ...

               ... good. 

 

act as if

 

My mother was fond of urging her sometimes unruly offspring to "rise to the occasion." (This exhortation would be accompanied by a gentle smile, a lifting of the chin and a slow swoop of her hand upward, as if by these demonstrations she could elevate our behavior.  Poor woman, she generally had a better grasp of reality than that.)  It was her version of "act as if" as in, "Please try to act as if you're not a pain in the ass spoiled brat right now."

"Acting as if" as in "acting as if you are calm, serene, sober -- okay" is a smart strategy when you feel like your insides are unravelling, the black hole is sucking you down, and each breath wants to turn into a panicked gulping of air.  "Acting as if" is not being dishonest, or phony.  It's a coping tool to use when going to pieces is only going to make things worse.

And this is an important distinction for me:  It's not stuffing how I feel (a dangerous thing for this alcoholic to do) so much as it is consciously deciding to stand firm in maintaining a calm demeanor, and not be swept away by the titanic tsunami of Freak Out surging inside me.

This challenge -- and this idea -- is hardly unique to alcoholics, nor is it the sole provenance of Alcoholics Anonymous.

I think, though, that alcoholics are the one group who believe we deserve a medal every time we do it.

 

Questions via Email: Quick Q's & A's

Dear Mr. SponsorPants,

What is your definition of "doing a geographic?"

If I am moving to start or stop doing something that I don't have to move to start or stop doing, or if I am moving to make a "fresh start" but running out on people or obligations in order to do so -- to me that's a geographic.

 

Dear Mr. SponsorPants,

13 Stepping?  Is that having sex with people in AA?

Yes and no.  In my opinion, 13 Stepping is when I invite someone over to read the Big Book but then I hit on them.  Just straight up, honest flirtation and/or propositioning someone else in an AA meeting is not 13 Stepping per se, because you're being honest about your motives and desires.  Now, hand-in-hand with that, however, is the fact that people who are new to AA are generally quite vulnerable, and might be seeking approval or escape or trying to compensate for some other issue, and it is a kind of 13 Stepping to hit on newcomers as well.  We offer the hand of fellowship to the newcomer, not the crotch of fellowship.

If you're hitting on newcomers, knock it the hell off.  Go cruise an Emergency Room, it's virtually the same thing -- it's just that our injuries are on the inside.

Oh, and if a newcomer is hitting on you, get a clue.  They're not showing you their interest, or their sexuality... they're showing you their damage.  Take the opportunity to set aside your own ego, whatever need for validation may come up when it happens and your own sex drive to show that in AA, you don't have to take off your pants to get the hug or to get help.

 

Dear Mr. SponsorPants,

My sponsor doesn't seem to have time for me.

Whether they're genuinely swamped or avoiding being of service, it might be time to look for another sponsor.  Before you do, address this issue very specifically with them.  Say what you said in your email.  If they get defensive, it's probably time to look for another sponsor.  If they offer an explanation, and commit to doing a better job, it might be worth sticking with them, if it's been a good fit in the past.  If they can't follow through, though, then... time to start looking.

 

Dear Mr. SponsorPants,

What do you say when you fire an unwilling sponsee?

I'm not a fan of the word "fire" -- though I understand how it became efficient shorthand for letting a sponsee go.  You were specific in talking about an unwilling sponsee -- in such a case, I say something very much like this:

"You deserve a sponsor that calls you to action.  None of my suggestions seem to do that for you, so it's likely I'm not the right guy.  You should find someone who will do that for you."

Half the time -- more than half -- they'll say something like "Oh no!  Please still sponsor me!  I'll do better...".  If in your gut you think they might, then maybe give the deal another chance.  But if, in your gut, you know it's highly unlikely that they'll get into action, then you are of much better service sticking to your decision.  They will probably take their next sponsor relationship much more seriously, and that can only be a good thing.

 

Dear Mr. SponsorPants,

I've read a lot about the success/failure rate of AA, and it doesn't seem to be a very effective way to stay sober.

I'll ignore the somewhat baiting tone in the body of your email and pull this out to address -- if I have mischaracterized what you wrote, I apologize, even though you and I both know I did not.  I have seen a lot of different stats on this topic.  As with all statistics the results seem to vary based upon what and how something is measured.  For example, if you were to measure "came to AA and then never drank again" vs. "came to AA, had a relapse, came back and stayed sober" vs. "came to AA, slipped around for a couple of years, then stayed sober" you would have three very different statistical measurements which would, in and of themselves, be as accurate as the math could make it, yet give three very different interpretations of AA's effectiveness.  Not all medicine works for all diseases.  Not all medicine works with the first treatment.  Sometimes people have more than one illness and the one impedes the healing of the other.  AA has many supporters and many detractors.  Both sides are equally able to seize upon some set of stats to support their bias -- but that has nothing to do with AA.  That's just human nature.

Going to the gym has never really worked for me as a way to get in shape.  You know why?  Even though I bought a membership, I don't go to the gym.  So obviously, gyms are not an effective way to get in shape.  I saw some statistics on how many fat people in America have gym memberships vs. how many go vs. how many go for a little while then give up and are still fat.  Against the backdrop of all that, it sure looks to me like gyms don't work.  But some of those gym members who go and work out and stick with it get in better shape -- and they have the nerve to tell me that if I did that I would too!  Obviously they're wrong and deluded, and there is possibly something very sinister at work. 

 My direct experience is that for people who are real alcoholics and who follow the body of AA's suggestions to the best of their ability and work all 12 Steps, their alcoholism is arrested and they are able to maintain physical sobriety -- and from those two things mental, emotional and spiritual sobriety follow.

 

Dear Mr. SponsorPants,

I've switched around among sponsors a lot.  I mean, I've had four different sponsors.  Is that too many?

Four in fourteen years?  Probably not.  Four in four weeks?  Mmmmaybe.  Sponsors are like shoes.  Try them on and walk a little.  If it's a good fit you'll know in short order, and they can take you far.  If not... not.  Ask yourself, when switching sponsors, if there's something going on you're not looking at (fear of judgment, problem with authority -- even though a sponsor is not an authority in any way -- etc.).  Talk to some third parties in AA whom you like and know you and get their take on whether you're just finding the right fit or avoiding something.

 

Dear Mr. SponsorPants,

I've heard some people say that ________ says to work one Step a year.

I've heard that said about different people and places myself.  I don't know whether the people who say that the people who say that are quoting accurately or not.

All I can tell you is that if I did the Steps at the rate of one a year I'd be dead now.

No, really.

 

Dear Mr. SponsorPants,

I'm addicted to _________ more than alcohol, but I was told to go to AA because it's like the "mothership."  Even though I don't really identify, should I still go to AA meetings?

In the early days of OA (Overeaters Anonymous) I'm told that some of the members went to AA speaker meetings to hear people discuss long term experience with the 12 Steps.  While I don't know if that is factually accurate, I can see how it might be helpful for them to have done so.  For myself, to support friends or to learn about other issues, I've been a visitor in meetings for a number of different 12 Step Programs, and when people were talking about their Step work and recovery I could usually identify, but when they were talking about their addiction... not always.  In my humble opinion, the miracle of 12 Step healing starts with the process of identification.  And that is not an intellectual process.  When I first came to AA I didn't need to hear an abstract discussion of addiction -- when I was new, I needed to hear specifically that these people drank the way I drank.  Eventually one develops the ability to listen more deeply, with the heart and not just the ears -- but I wasn't able to do that when I was new.

Putting it another way, I couldn't have gotten sober sitting in meetings of Gambler's Anonymous (for example), even though today I might find some good information from listening in a G.A. meeting.

Go where you will hear people specifically talking about what you did.  Make sure you always have a connection to that specific program -- not only for the beginning of your recovery, to identify and build a solid foundation for yourself -- but so that you can then help the other newcomers who will follow you.  If you also find recovery in AA, great, then of course come to AA too.  Come to AA also, but not instead of.

And if you mean literally you do not identify as an alcoholic, meaning, you are not able or willing to say "I'm _______ and I'm an alcoholic" because it does not feel right and honest for you, I respect that -- but please respect the difference, then, between Open and Closed AA Meetings.  An Open AA Meeting is for anyone who would like to attend, though the meeting itself may request that only alcoholics participate (read, speak, share) in the meeting -- but anyone is welcome to attend.  A Closed AA Meeting is for alcoholics only.  In virtually every city I've been to there are many more Open Meetings than Closed, so I'm sure you'll be able to find one, if that's what's right for you.

 

Dear Mr. SponsorPants,

Are you dressing up for Halloween?

Halloween is the one day I'm not in costume.  It's the rest of the year I look frightful.

 

Cheers!

 

Questions via Email: Crosstalk

Dear Mr. SponsorPants,

Can you define crosstalk?  My definition is two people in the meeting having a conversation while someone else is sharing.

But then there's this:

Jane shares about whatever "problem" during her share.  Then Joe starts sharing and addresses Jane's problem with "X."  Is Joe crosstalking?  It doesn't seem like it to me.

Thanks,

G.

Dear G,

It's an important question to anyone who cares about AA, G., since crosstalk, however it may be defined by an individual or a meeting, goes directly to keeping AA meetings a safe place to speak honestly and from the heart about struggles with getting and staying sober.

Probably ten or so years ago I attended a meeting in which this came up and was very heatedly debated.  I took it upon myself to call General Services in New York, the closest thing AA has to a "main office" (you can't really even call it a governing body, per se) and asked if there was an official definition of crosstalk that they could send me.  The very nice lady on the phone told me that no, in fact there is not, and then quoted me the 4th Tradition, "Each group should be autonomous except in matters affecting other groups or AA as a whole" going on to explain how this meant that each group could decide for themselves what crosstalk was and how to address it if it became an issue.  (This was not at all what I wanted to hear.  Because I hadn't really called to find out the official definition -- I had called to get some official ammo to prove I was right, damn it!  But as I have experienced often enough, AA Tradition trumps ego every time).

I have no quarrel with the first definition you give, though to be honest I hadn't heard the term applied to conversation in the meeting as much as I had to sharing.  But I see your point and it works for me.

The second one I think is defined by whether or not Joe is speaking directly to Jane during his share, that is, literally saying something like, "Well, Jane, what I think you should do is ..."

To me that is very much crosstalk.

If Joe shares, "I have some experience with X, and what worked for me is..."  Or any form of speaking about his own experience with something, but not speaking to Jane, or giving advice or opinions in general, then no, I do not think that is cross talk.  We do not share in a vacuum, and (for me) one of the more valuable things at meetings is to hear different experiences (key word: experiences, not opinions) on the various challenges to living sober and really "doing" AA on a daily basis.

So I guess to boil that down, sharing personal experience, and speaking only for yourself, on a topic or issue that someone has shared about is not crosstalk, but sharing directly to that person or offering specific advice to them at group level is crosstalk.

To give a rough little example:

Jane shares: "I am stuck on my 4th Step!"

Later in the meeting Joe shares:  "Oh god, I was stuck on my 4th Step forever, but what helped me was to...".

That's not crosstalk.

But if Jane shares: "I am stuck on my 4th Step!" and then later in the meeting Joe shares "Jane, I had trouble with my 4th Step.  Here's what you should do..."

That is crosstalk.

And I don't believe this is just a little word game, I think it really makes a difference in how safe a meeting may feel.  (Of course people can play a game with that, pretending to speak for themselves but really speaking at or to someone... but honestly I don't see that much.)

In the happy anarchy that is AA we tend to stumble towards a balanced, neither-one-extreme-nor-the-other deal on almost everything in a meeting, eventually -- we are black-and-white people constantly learning to live in the shades of gray.

Which is good when it comes to sharing, because either extreme tends to make opening up in front of a group difficult and meetings very unsafe.

Years ago, in another city, I went regularly to a meeting that was close to my house.  A very unhappy meeting, but it worked for my schedule (which was challenging) at the time, and I decided it would be interesting to kind of "tough it out."  The issue of crosstalk was a HUGE hot button for this group, so much so that (I kid you not) when I dared to share I would look down at the floor or out the window so as not to imply I was speaking to or about anyone.  Over time the meeting sort of broke down, since this angry stranglehold on what and how you could/should share made it nearly impossible to open up in any significant way.

On the other end of the scale I've been to meetings where crosstalk was not only allowed, it was encouraged, so much so that it was stated in the format, with a bit of a chip on the shoulder, a la "This meeting allows crosstalk and if you are not comfortable with that we invite you to find a meeting which better suits your comfort level" or some such.  I guess they were from the like-it-or-lump-it school of recovery.  (On a side note sometimes when I'm at a meeting which is not in my regular orbit and it's a little... err... 'creative' with how an AA meeting generally works, I wonder to myself if I would have been able to come back to AA if that had been my very first meeting.  I have to let God sort all that out though, since it's Bleeding Deacon territory to run around policing how meetings should be based on the half-remembered you from your first few days sober).

The meetings which allowed/encouraged crosstalk seemed like the kind of place which would actually encourage people's ego to flourish more than anything; showing how smart you are, playing the guru, possibly getting a chuckle or two at someone's expense, holding forth and either lecturing or testifying, none of which is helpful for me personally to hear at a meeting.  The meeting which had that in the format may still be going strong, but it wasn't one I went back to.

But what the nice gal in New York said is really the bottom line -- there's no true "Official" definition of crosstalk (though various Central Offices in different parts of the country have come up with their version of one, I know), and each meeting is left to define it and deal with it on their own.

Hope that helped.

Thanks very much for writing!

Cheers!

It used to be on page 449

"And acceptance is the answer to all my problems today." -- "Alcoholics Anonymous" (AA's Big Book), pg. 417, from the story "Acceptance Was The Answer"

It used to be on page 449.

And the story used to be called "Doctor, Alcoholic, Addict."

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

For the new kids, AA's Big Book is in its 4th Edition.  The first 164 pages have been virtually unchanged from the book's first printing in 1939.  Following that are "personal stories" from a variety of people who found they could not control their drinking and discovered a solution in AA.  At the most practical level these stories are included so that if someone has the book, but there are no meetings available, they have the chance to hear a variety of people share about their drinking and recovery, and perhaps that will help them determine if they, too, are alcoholic, and then help them decide if there might be something in AA for them as well.  As time has passed it was deemed necessary to replace some of the personal stories in the back of the book to reflect both a new audience reading it and the broader membership of AA as a whole.

The story "Doctor, Alcoholic, Addict" was added in the 3rd edition (the one I got sober with) and was written by a man who became known as "Dr. Paul."  He and his wife Maxine were regular attendees of a meeting I went to when I was newly sober, and I often heard one or the other of them speak (more Paul than Max, unless it was a double-bill at a convention, as she was Al-Anon).  Although one facet of our principle of anonymity is that we are all equal in meetings, we're also only human, and as his story in the book became more of a focus for people Dr. Paul was sometimes quietly lauded to a degree which I think made him a little uncomfortable.

People became so fond of the sentiment and the story that in the 4th edition the title was changed to "Acceptance Was The Answer" (just in case you somehow missed the point on your own some helpful alcoholics decided to underscore it for you).  Of course with changes in which stories were included -- some few were removed and some added -- the page numbers in the story section of the book changed, thus the acceptance quote is now found on 417.

Dr. Paul was a very funny speaker; smart, self-depreciating, wise... I don't think I ever did more than go up and thank him for speaking when he chaired a meeting, I was too shy to do more than that.  At first the inclusion of his story in the Big Book was apparently a bit controversial in some quarters, as he discusses a good deal of drug usage in it, but over time its wisdom and message won many fans, and it became one of the most often quoted stories in the book:  "Acceptance is the answer to all my problems today." people would say.  A lot.  I even saw vanity plates and bumper stickers which said "Page 449!" and the like.  (I assume they all had to run to the DMV and get new plates when the 4th edition came out).

It drove me bonkers.

As with any spiritual axiom, there is a profound truth at its heart, but the more people throw it at you the easier it is to "yeah, but what about..." yourself into a kind of contrary madness.

"Acceptance is the answer to all my problems?  Oh, am I supposed to accept the Nazi's?  Am I supposed to accept domestic violence?  Am I supposed to accept the exploitation of children?  Elder abuse?  Am I supposed to accept ..." 

Oh for God's sake shut up.  Of course not.

There's only one spiritual axiom I know of which can survive the avalanche of hypotheticals from a person determined to be closed-minded and contrary.  But I'll get to that in a minute.

What drove me bonkers about this bit of spiritual wisdom, aside from the low grade pious schmuckery of the people who would sometimes try and slather it all over everything you shared with them, was how easy it was for me to abuse this sentiment.

After many (many) mistakes and a lot of inventory work, this is what I have learned:

Yes, on a spiritual level, acceptance is key to balance and serenity, and as such it is a principle which is an excellent touchstone for hyper-sensitive, melodramatic, resentment-prone alcoholics.

But...

Stuffing how you feel is not acceptance.  ("Fine!  I'm fine with that!  I'm in total acceptance!")

Low grade denial is not acceptance.  ("You know what?  It's really not that big a deal, I'm cool.")

Avoidance is not acceptance.  ("I just need to let this situation be, and practice acceptance.")

To leave it at that without offering an idea about how to discern (for example) when I'm stuffing versus accepting makes the above nothing but a cheap word game.

So I must tell you that, for me, first it has been inventory writing (especially many 10th Steps), then sharing with friends and sponsors, and then listening for that Little Voice inside -- so wee and soft sometimes it's very hard to hear beneath the clamor of my ego and the charming banter of my addiction -- which has helped me find my way to some insight on acceptance.

If you think you can't write your way into some clarity via an inventory because you're not sure on how to do it, then ask for help.

If you secretly think that there's nothing which will be revealed via writing that you don't already know, then you better pray for help. 

Acceptance is an answer to many things for alcoholics -- it is a powerful, profound spiritual tool.  Just make sure what you're doing is accepting.

Oh, and that one bit of spiritual wisdom which can withstand any amount of hypothetical bombardment?

Breathe.

Shooters -- Quick shots from Meetings: Best new acronym

WAIT:  Why Am I Talking...

time is not a tool -- but I might be, if I'm not careful (How To Avoid Becoming A Bleeding Deacon)

The great struggle for people with some time sober is to avoid becoming what the AA literature calls a "Bleeding Deacon."  (And welcome to my nightmare.  I have a powerful fear of going that route without even realizing it.)

The goal, according to the literature, is to eventually grow into a comfortable "Elder Statesman" status.  (There's a very old business expression called "The Gray Eminence" which I think alludes to the same role in an organization -- sort of the person who is available to advise, and who's experience is relied upon at forks in the road for both the individual and the organization, but they are not trying to be in authority over anyone, and their role is perhaps quieter than it once was).

In my AA adventures I've met some folks who, in my opinion, were doing the deacon, and others who seemed like wonderful examples of being the elder.  We learn from each others' behavior in this regard -- and we have to -- because the "main" AA literature (The Big Book and the 12 & 12) was written before anyone had the kind of long-term sobriety many of us are blessed with today.  In my circle of acquaintance I could rattle off two dozen names with 20 or more years sober without even trying -- and my circle isn't all that unusual in AA in 2010.  (The Big Book was written by the "first hundred alcoholics" -- give or take a body or two -- Bill W. acted as 'chief' author -- someone had to pound away at the typewriter after all -- but he had very strong input from the group as a whole, especially for the first five chapters -- and how they survived writing by committee is a miracle unto itself, I wager.  At that time, however, if I have my facts straight, no one was even five years sober.  Bill himself later wrote the "12 & 12" when he was about 13 years sober.  This does not mean the literature is lacking anything, it's just context.)

Time is not a tool -- but I might be, if I'm not careful.  While we are all sober just for today, and I personally do not give great weight to "time sober" as any special measure of wellness (after all, it's not how long you've been sober which determines your spiritual fitness, it's what you are currently doing that makes all the difference -- bit more on that here), there is a truth on the other side of this point as well.  Time is not a tool, but obviously some of the problems and challenges which assail an alcoholic in their first 30 days are substantively different than the ones which must be faced at 30 months or 30 years.  Same disease, same medicine, but some different challenges along the way in addressing the former and implementing the latter.

All of which leads me up to a few thoughts on How To Avoid Becoming A Bleeding Deacon:

1.  Alcoholism is serious, but recovery is funny.  If you lose your sense of humor -- especially about your sober self -- that's heading for Bleeding Deacon territory.  Maybe another way of saying that is if you lose your humility you will lose your sense of humor -- and boy then won't you be fun at parties.

2.  You know a lot, but you don't know everything.  Lots of sober experience and lots of time working with the literature and other alcoholics can give someone a broad knowledge base.  But that doesn't make you an expert.  No one is an authority in (or about) AA, and those that play at it are just waltzing their egos around the room.  (And it's possible to play at it very, very subtly.  One must really watch for that over time.)

3.  There is a difference between rigid and disciplined -- and the short answer I believe is that the difference lies in what motivates us.  Rigidity comes from fear of doing things wrong.  Discipline hopefully is sourced by an attempt to do things right.  (And a bit more on that here).  Being rigid about AA flies in the face of the open-minded and balanced tone found in all of the AA literature -- especially the Big Book.

That's it, really.  All the men and women with a good many years sober in AA whom I hope to emulate seem to have those three things going on.

One day at a time I try to too.

 

escapes

"My first addiction was ...

reading."

fantasy."

afternoon television."

On a semi-regular basis I hear people in meetings describe some early coping mechanism as an addiction.

Far be it from me to pick a nit, but when I was new in AA this used to trouble me, and now ... well, it still troubles me, but in a different way.

In my early sobriety, sitting in meetings and literally drinking in what was said, when people described these other, somewhat benign things as "addictions" it actually used to frighten me a little.  Although I couldn't have expressed it at the time, looking back I see what troubled me was that it seemed as though calling these other things addictions softened the whole concept of being an addict.  Like it undermined the gravity of what I called myself (and of course I must pause and point out that it is the consummate alcoholic reaction to think that what those kind souls described about themselves was in any way a comment on me.  In fact, I can remember bristling when people would identify from the lectern, "I'm so-and-so, and I'm a real alcoholic."  From my gut I would react, "Oh, what, and you're saying I'm not?"  NO, Mr. SponsorPants, they're not saying anything about you, they're talking about themselves.  Ego ego ego).

Now when I hear people speak in these terms, I'm troubled for a different reason:  Clarity.

I understand the spirit of what people are saying, when they describe (for example) their childhood fantasy life as "an addiction," but I think they would be better served -- and be more accurate -- to call it a coping mechanism.  An escape.

I do not presume to know what their truth is now or was then, but from what most people describe I think I'm not far off the mark.

For me, the reason it's important to be clear is because when I call myself an alcoholic, or when someone describes an addiction they are suffering from, it is not an idea so much as it is a diagnosis.

That's the point, right?  Every time I say "I'm Mr. SponsorPants and I'm an alcoholic" I am reminding myself that I have a disease (and letting other people in meetings know that I have traveled the same road they have).  I am stating my diagnosis.  And the reason it's important to remind myself of that is not some twisted "look how badly damaged I am" way, but because a chief symptom of the disease is the patient's ability to forget/deny that they have it.

Again, I don't think this is about playing a word game, or people not using the "right" words so much as it is keeping ourselves on point in terms of what we face, and presenting AA's idea about what alcoholism is as clearly as possible to the newcomer.

If people call every escape or habit they have an addiction then I believe it dilutes the important truth that, while I may use some things as an escape more than I should, or some habits become deeply ingrained and require a hard fight to break, addiction is something that I alone, cannot resolve.  I might (for example) have a very hard time stopping biting my nails -- it may be a real challenge to quit, but on my own I can do it.  But a (self) diagnosis of addiction is the admission of powerlessness (on my own) and is the final surrender to the idea that there is no possible way I can stop using/drinking/whatevering without some outside help.  I need medicine for my sickness (disease/addiction).  In this case, I need spiritual medicine for what the book "Alcoholics Anonymous" (AA's Big Book) calls a "spiritual malady."

The first time I make that self diagnosis -- and fully believe it -- is the beginning of being able to hear someone else's suggestions as to how to treat my disease, in the important -- life saving -- progression of admission to surrender to willingness to recovery.

I guess for me it comes down to this:

All addictions are certainly a form of escape, but not all escapes are also an addiction.  Being clear about what is what helps people new to the 12 Step world identify -- or not.  (After all, we're not selling anything.)

That's been rolling around in my head all week -- just needed to get that out.  For the Big Book's discussion of some of these ideas -- basically I'm just riffing on the whole 'real alcoholic' thing -- read around page 21 in Chapter 2, "There Is A Solution."

Cheers!

"I won't quit, they have to fire me. I won't quit, they have to fire me."

It was one of my first jobs in sobriety, and I felt it was far beneath me.

I had no real skills at the time, and, prior to that, had been too drunk to show up to class, thereby throwing away my opportunity to finish college -- so I had no degree (two spotty years and then a series of lies to my parents about deferred classes and summer sessions and sick time etc., etc.) -- but still, the job was beneath me.

The job was waiting tables at a '40's style diner.

Oh, it gets better.

There was a uniform:

Paper soda jerk hat.  Short sleeved white button down shirt.  Little black bow tie.  Those weird industrial material Dickies brand pants, in beige.  (They sat across my waist like an abortive attempt at male maternity wear.)  It was a '40's diner themed restaurant, so we were supposed to look like the guys (and gals) who worked the ice cream counter in those days (never mind I think the look was a bit more 1950's -- they weren't asking my opinion).

I looked like the illegitimate offspring of a drunken coupling between Pee Wee Herman and Flo, the officially "sassy" waitress on the 1970's sitcom, "Alice."

      

"I can't do it!" I wailed to my sponsor.

"Yes, you can."  he said.

"My friends will see me."  I whined.

"Yes, they will."  he said.

"I look fat and foolish and everyone will laugh."  I cried.

"You need a job."  he said, doing nothing to assuage my fears, as he had said nothing to address my wounded vanity.

While I didn't believe the world owed me a living, I did believe that (just like in the movies) I would sort of fall into some glamorous and highly paid career -- kind of like being discovered, but by God, more than Hollywood.  (And in the very, very back of my mind, I suspect I equated my newfound sobriety with being "good" and thus the universe was bound to reward me. Which, as I have pointed out here before, is not spirituality so much as superstition.)

I explained this idea to my sponsor, though I was too smart to put it quite so baldly, and sited examples of numerous famous people who had that very thing happen to them.

"That may be, but you're not them, and you need a job.  And you're not going to be discovered sitting in your living room or sitting in a meeting, anyway."  he responded.

So there I was, in between AA meetings, slinging cheeseburgers and mixing malts.

Let me just say, in case the picture I've painted thus far has not made it clear, the uniform did not flatter the figure.  If you were a 16 year old kid, trim and suffused with the blush of youth, then in that outfit you looked like an extra from a Disney musical.  ("Newsies 2!  Sophomore Year!  Back to the Burger Joint!"  The Happy Meal tie-in alone would have been a marketing executives ... er ... dream) but sober a year or so I was only slowly coming back to life -- my previous almost ten year diet of vodka and ... well, more vodka ... had not exactly put the glow of health in my cheeks or muscle on my frame.  I had all the right numbers, but I had them in all the wrong places.  And it hadn't helped that in getting sober I had severe physical cravings for many months, and had taken the "eat something sweet to address the craving for liquor" advice to heart.  And stomach and butt.  (And given the kind of drunk I was -- at that time that was the right thing for me to do).  The restaurant was near the beach, so families would roll in to feed the kids, the lot of them fresh and glowing from sand and surf and clean living and good health.  I would approach the table looking, in comparison to them, like Uncle Fester on a work release program -- so I thought.  It didn't help.

I was scared and overwhelmed and miserable.

I faked being happy and comfortable and confident.  I am a great faker.

I think in survival situations alcoholics in general are marvelous frauds -- this is why "fake it till you make it" is such great advice for us.  "Act as if" -- act as if you're a person who is not afraid to go through the door, and you find a way to walk through the door.  "Act as if" you're the kind of person who is able to walk up to strangers and do your job, and you find a way to walk up to strangers and do your job.

To look at me on the floor of that restaurant you'd have though I was fine.

But every fifteen minute break I had, I would stand behind the restaurant, literally shaking, and chant to myself "I won't quit they have to fire me.  I won't quit they have to fire me..." over and over again.  Every moment I was there every circuit of my brain was on overload.  Before going to work sometimes I threw up from fear.  It was waiting tables in a nice-but-not-fine-dining-restaurant and at the time it was almost more than I could handle.

I had put a brave face on it to my sponsor at first, but finally broke down and told him how I felt and all my fears every time I went to work.  (Why I felt I needed to put a brave face on it for my sponsor is complicated, but has to do in part with people pleasing and confusion about what a sponsor is and a lifetime habit of covering things up by reflex -- and worth a whole other post some day, I'm sure.)

He told me something that changed my work life, and not only transformed that job, but every single work experience I've had since (and they have been many and varied, my path has never been what one would call "traditional.")

My sponsor explained to me that one facet of the 12th Step's suggestion to "... practice these principles in all our affairs" was to approach every situation as an opportunity to be of service.  So when I was at the restaurant, rather than be afraid of how I looked or what people thought of me, I should try to view every element of the job, every exchange with customers and co-workers, as a chance to be of service.  Look at the food as nourishment I was bringing to hungry people.  Look at the families, some of them stressed or grouchy, and see if I could make their time with me relaxing or even enjoyable.  See how I could make my co-workers jobs easier, grab trays, bus tables, offer to assist ... just in general take the focus off of myself and my paycheck and my tips and put it onto being of service.

I tried it, and the change in how I felt and how my day went was nothing short of amazing.  Approaching the job like that absolutely transformed the entire experience for me. 

Now, to the cynical among you, I'm not saying this meant that little animated birds flew in the window and helped me put on my soda jerk outfit every day.  I still had difficult customers and some days my feet were tired and other days the physical labor was hard indeed.  But by looking at the job as a chance to be of service, my fear fell away, my obsessive self-loathing about how I looked was muted to almost nothing, and this in turn changed my interactions, which improved the job, which made it easier to view as a way to be of service, which changed my interactions ... in a healthy ongoing cycle of positive reinforcement. 

It got to the point that on my fifteen minute breaks I would stand behind the restaurant and say the 3rd Step prayer and the Serenity Prayer and feel a real sense of purpose and usefulness when I went back to my station.

I grew to love that job, and when I left, I was sorry to go.

They didn't fire me -- and I didn't quit.  I left that job as a sober man leaves a job, not a frightened or petulant drunk.  I resigned with two weeks notice, moving on to another job that suited me better -- and challenged me in new ways.

I left the job better for having had it -- and when I started there I would never have imagined all I got from that place and those people -- and yes, even from the humility of wearing that damned outfit.  (What a gift, to move through the world and see the person, not the uniform, every time I'm the customer.)

Over and over that's been my experience from working AA's principles in every area of my life -- things that scared and overwhelmed me are transformed into wonderful opportunities I've been grateful to have and was sad to leave.

And in a box somewhere, as a bit of a reminder of both that lesson and that sponsor, I still have that stupid hat.

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Narrow roads and broad highways

"The road gets narrower" is an expression heard often enough in AA meetings, and neatly encapsulates the idea that, in sobriety, what used to fix us tends to stop working after a while.

It struck me today, though, I don't think this expression actually occurs in the book "Alcoholics Anonymous" (AA's Big Book.)

While I believe there's much truth to the sentiment, (and certainly as I've written about before, it has been very true for me over the years), what AA really talks about is a Broad Highway -- as in how, should you stay sober, you will join with others on the Broad Highway of life/recovery/spiritual growth.

For me today, taken together those two phrases make for a larger truth.

It occurred to me, isn't every fix ultimately the same thing at its rotten heart?  Whether it is food or sex or shopping or whatever (the window dressing varies) aren't they all just a way to blot out the world, avoid dealing with life on life's terms, and focus inward -- solely on myself?  And then the attendant self-abuse, the same old same old shame, the tired circular litany of would-have-could-have-should-have ... aren't those just further exercises in turning within, staying small, keeping my life chronically rooted in the weary rut of checking out?

The fix stops fixing.

The process of the 12 Steps, applied and reapplied, eventually makes the fix an uncomfortable (even intolerable) act -- pulling my focus from myself onto my fellows (from looking inward to looking outward).  Ultimately it is not that I am able to do less, but that as the self-obsessive escape mechanisms fail I am capable of doing much, much more -- because without the fix and its ever-tightening inward spiral, there is space for real and truly nourishing things, honest healthy connections, to form.

As with most things spiritual, on the surface it seems a paradox, but for me today a narrower road leads to a wider life -- the Broad Highway.

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