Mr. SponsorPants

the gloves were off -- Part 2 -- I genuinely tried for a gentler tone

They called me the next afternoon.

"I wanted to follow up on your offer to talk more.  I feel like I need to talk to someone who understands.  Is this a good time?"

"Sure, in fact I just finished making some tea, your timing couldn't be better."  I grabbed my mug and the pot and sat on the sofa.  "I'll help any way I can."

"Thank you."  They sounded like they might have been crying before they called, or it could have been the cell connection.  In the 21st Century we can talk anywhere we are, just not very well sometimes.  "You know the South American was honest with me from the very beginning."

"Oh?  In what way?"  I asked.

"Well, they told me that after the cruise they were going to try to work things out with their ex."

I was silent for a bit.  I took a deep breath and said to myself, "Gentle tone. Remember, gentle tone."  The cat jumped up on the sofa and gave me a long look.  "What?"  I mouthed at her.  "I said gentle tone!"  She began washing a paw, dismissing me entirely.

"Are you still there?"  he asked.

"Yes! Sorry, just ... taking a deep breath.  I'm so sorry, I understand just how much this hurts, because my history and yours are even closer than ... look, the greatest emotional pain I've had in sobriety is when I willfully, adamantly refuse to deal in reality.  And that's what you did from the beginning of this.  From the very first, this relationship was based wholly in fantasy."

"No!  That's not true!  We had something really intense and ..."

I jumped in (gently)  "Hey, I'm sorry, but ... intensity does not equal reality."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I am not saying you didn't have an intense connection.  I'm just saying you were in fantasy the whole time.  Daydreaming.  Wishing.  Even plotting and scheming.  The South American said that there was an expiration date on your relationship, and somewhere along the way you decided that you would just make that not true.  I've done that, and it's a horrible place to be.  To just ignore all the evidence that disproves what you want reality to be.  To 'unhear' things.  To sweep what we don't want to be true away with a tidal wave of words and rationalizations.  It's just the advanced version of the 'self will run riot' the Big Book describes us as when we were practicing ... wait, maybe advanced is not the right word, since it's sicker, actually..."  I trailed off.

"Okay, I ... I can accept that I guess.  But now we're going to be friends -- just friends.  But ..."

There was genuine anguish in their voice, and that, I assure you, was not the cell connection.

"But what?" I asked, with no need to remind myself to be gentle this time.

"But I'm getting ... I mean I'm going... I mean I don't even know what I ... we're both on [popular internet service provider], so I can see when they're on and they can see me and I just log on in the morning and wait for them to log on and then I send them messages like, all day, and then just sit and wait for them to respond and ... I don't know what to do."

"Well," I sighed (I once had a sponsee tell me that whenever I started a sentence with "well" he knew he wasn't going to like whatever came after it.  I don't seem to be able to break the habit though) "I have a suggestion, but I it will be difficult."

Guardedly he asked, "Okay, what's the suggestion?"

"Get rid of [popular internet service provider].  Just remove it entirely from your computer.  They're not the only ISP out there by a long shot.  And ..."

"Okay, and what?"

"And tell the South American that you need a year of no contact."

"WHAT?!?"

"I said..."

"I heard you that's ... too extreme.  I said to them that we could still be friends and I meant it."

"And how's that workin' for you?" I asked.

"Hey now, don't be flip."  They shot back.

"I'm not.  I'm asking you seriously.  How. Is. That. Working. For. You.  Ask yourself that and give an honest answer, because it's obviously not working for you and ... well, if you give yourself an honest answer to that question it will be the first honest answer you've given yourself about this painful mess in a while."

"What do you meant by that?"

The cat had moved on to the other paw and stopped for a moment, giving me another look.  I checked my tone and volume.

"I mean" I said, taking a breath "that you are not being honest with yourself with this 'want to be friends' business.  Because you don't want to be friends.  You want to be together.  Romantically.  You want to be joined at the hip, living and sleeping together.  You want a relationship, not a friendship."

"So you're saying I should cut them out of my life?"

"I'm saying you should tell them you made a mistake, that you can't handle being friends, that it's killing you, and you need a year of no contact.  Then change ISP's and..."

He jumped in, passionately explaining how what I was suggesting was crazy, too much, too extreme, wrong, rude ... a thousand other angles.  It became a rant, and I poured more tea and let them go on, hearing underneath it the addict's terror of losing their fix.  The cat, having lost interest in ignoring me from the sofa, stretched and yawned and then jumped down and ignored me from the floor.

Finally I interrupted,  "So, you're saying you can still be friends with them because it's not that you're attached to them, it's that being with them awakened in you the desire for a significant relationship, but not with them, so the friendship's okay they're just some sort of symbol."

"Yes."

"Oh bullshit."  I said.  My rope for being on the receiving end of rants has gotten considerably shorter over the past few years.  "Utter bullshit."

"How do you know?"  They challenged.  "I can step back, create a safe boundary, process everything with..."

"Ohmygod, please stop."  I had to interrupt.  "You are smart, and you are articulate, and all that's happening here is you are using all that to one more time try to shape reality to fit you, rather than adjust yourself to reality.  All that verbal ability is very dangerous, because you can spin and sell yourself -- and others, I'm sure -- on whatever you like."

Silence on the line.  "You still there?"  I asked.

"Yeah."  He said.

"Okay, look, really, all that's happening here is that you feel like there's a hole in your gut, as alcoholics" without a program, I thought to myself "often do.  And you have decided, on some level, that it's a relationship-shaped hole.  And if you just find, or create, the right relationship you will be able to fill the hole and feel complete.  But what we learn in AA is that we don't have a relationship-shaped hole, or a job-shaped, or a money-shaped, or any-other-of-those-things-shaped hole.  What we have is a God-shaped hole.  And to feel complete, in other words, to fill the hole, we have to bring God, as each of us understand God, into our lives.  Ironically of course, the only way to fill a God-shaped hole is to give, not to get.  To reverse the flow, and give of ourselves.  That's how you fill a God-shaped hole.  And then, weirdly, wonderfully, the more you give the more you get, and the smaller the hole becomes, until eventually there are whole days where you feel complete.  That's why I asked you the other night if you had service commitments, or sponsees.  That's the only way I made it through what you're going through now."

More silence.  "You still there?"  I asked again.

"Yeah."  He answered.

Still more silence.  "Okay then, I ... I guess that's all I can suggest.  That's ... I hope that helped."

"Yeah." He answered, but to be honest it sounded a little perfunctory.

Doesn't matter though, because while I don't know if he truly heard what I said, I sure did.

And so, so often, that's really how it works.

the gloves were off -- Part 1

They wound up sitting next to me when a half dozen of us went out after the Saturday night meeting (for the new kids that's generally referred to as going out for "fellowship," a word which makes it sound like we're Quakers at a quilting, but there it is.)

I'd known them on and off for about ten years.  Not sure if they've been sober that whole time or not, but they had some time under their belt, regardless.

"How are you?"  I asked.

With a wry grin they answered, "I'm in the worst emotional pain of my life."

"Ah." I said.

"Yeah, I've been obsessed with this South American I met on a vacation cruise.  I can't get them out of my head -- in fact, I just got back from down there and ... I'm just ... I don't know how to get out of this pain.  And this obsession."

The tale went on, full of passion and romantic intrigue, moonlit make-out sessions on the Lido Deck, breathless descriptions of the intense "connection" which grew between them.

"Well," I interrupted, "I'll wager there was something very intense that grew between you -- and it certainly rhymes with 'connection' -- but unless you're going to pitch me on a past life relationship I think we both know, if you're dealing in reality, a week on a cruise ship is a long way from knowing who someone truly is.  But I understand ... I've been in that kind of pain, that kind of obsession.  Except, you know, without the luxury cruise ship.  Or the glamorous international part."

"Don't you believe in ..."  And here they launched into a long, wistful recitation about love and passion.  "We were just so ..." they went on,  making their time on the cruise ship sound like Liesl von Trapp and her young Nazi suitor, jumping around a gazebo in the rain.

I'd had a moment of weakness when ordering my grilled cheese sandwich, and went for the french fries rather than the salad.  I picked one up and pushed the glob of ketchup on my plate around till they wound down.

"I believe you're in terrible pain.  I think our experience lines up, and I understand how awful it is.  What really saved my ass when I was going through it was my sponsees.  Trying to help them, listen to them, be there for them ... it got me out of my pain, my self ... and my self obsession."  I caved and, knowing it would lead to the inevitable, put the first french fry in my mouth.  I have never known half measures when it came to eating french fries.  "Are you sponsoring anyone right now?"  I admit, it was a set up.  I would have bet you any amount of money that they weren't.  "Do you have any service commitments?"

They raised their chin in the universal body language of alcoholic defensiveness.  "Yes, I have service commitments."

"Well good."  I said.  "Lean into them."

"And, you know, there are people I help, although I'm not, you know, their sponsor..."

It was an act of will to stop pushing french fries into my mouth to respond.  "Well," I said, and caught myself reaching for another without thinking.  I consciously put my hands in my lap.  "I'm sure you do and sometimes we're even more helpful to each other without a big label on it, I totally get that.  But sitting down with someone, taking them through the Big Book, taking them through the Steps, keeping tabs, checking in ... that's what addressed the pain I had, akin to what you're going through now."

We were swept into the conversation at the table for a bit, and I devoured the rest of my fries. 

They leaned into me, and dropped their voice to a conspiratorial whisper.  "This may sound crazy, but ... I feel like God gave me all these things to work on, and until I clear my plate I shouldn't sponsor anyone.  Does that sound crazy?"

I looked them in the eye. "Yes.  It sounds crazy.  And selfish.  You're sitting on a pot of gold, life-saving gold, with your sober experience."  They seemed a little taken aback that I hadn't said, 'Oh, no, I understand, we each have our own paths, our own understanding of a Higher Power...' or something.

They shrugged.  "I worry, too, that I'll just work on their crap and try to help them and not work on any of my own issues."

Give me credit, I did not roll my eyes.  Not a flicker.

"Really."  I said.  "Well, for me, the gravitational pull of Planet SponsorPants is enormous, and to achieve escape velocity I need a lot of help.  I need to get involved with other alcoholics to get a respite from constantly thinking about my own crap.  Like it sounds like you're spending all your time doing."

"I'm in the worst emotional pain of my life!"  They said.  Unfortunately, it was said in the same tone as something like "I am willing to donate a kidney to this worthy homeless man!"

My dead sponsor's words came back to me, "Never underestimate the power of the alcoholic ego.  Never never never."  I could imagine him very highly amused at the exchange I found myself in, shaking his head and chortling around his cigarette.

"Look, I believe you.  But if you put it out there at meetings, start to reach out to new people and offer to take them through the Big Book, even though as you do it you don't believe it will help, my experience is that it really heals.  It assuages the pain and it alleviates the self obsession."

Fortunately the check arrived -- and it was time to head out. 

"Thank you." they said.

"You have my number, call me any time."

"Okay."

We all walked out, carrying on and making a cheerful scene at the register, followed by rounds of handshakes and hugs in the parking lot.

On the way home, a friend in the car, who had been sitting on my other side and listening with half an ear to our exchange, said, "You didn't let them off the hook.  You were really direct with them."

"Yeah." I said.

When I got home I thought about the evening -- it had been mostly fun, and filled with laughs.  But I reviewed the exchange in the restaurant in my head, and wondered if somewhere along the way I've become a middle-aged, one-note, blow-hard.  I worried I lectured, hectored, bullied.  It struck me that maybe I wasn't carrying the message, maybe I was being an ass.  Then again, the people who helped me the most over the years were the ones that gave it to me straight -- gloves off.  Even if they were wrong, their honest desire to help shone through.  I hoped that had been the case tonight.

The cat jumped up on the desk, and began her nightly negotiation for treats and attention.  "Well," I said to her, "if I've become a middle-aged ass, the one bit I can't do anything about is the middle-aged part.  But the rest I can work on -- I think I may need to develop my patience and compassion.  I fear it's eroded over time."

Unimpressed with this insight, but certain in her way that if there was a problem I was at the bottom of it, she deigned to let me scratch her head.  I did, and resolved to pray for a more gentle tone with my fellow alcoholics in the future.  I looked out the window for a bit, admired the crescent moon, wished suddenly that I had more french fries, and then wrote this.

a meeting is a meeting.

The voice mail from a sponsee detailed a challenging (but rewarding, I sensed) 12th Step call.

In the course of leaving the message he explained that he hadn't made it to a meeting that day because of this selfsame 12th Step call.  His commitment to himself right now is 90 meetings in 90 days (which, for people who are new, or who need to build a better relationship with AA, is an excellent thing to commit to doing.)  He framed it in such a way as to suggest that since he was doing something AA-related (and indeed, 12th Step work is one of the most important things a sober alcoholic can do) then that would sort of "count" as his meeting for that day.

This sort of recovery-tools barter is not uncommon, and virtually every sponsee I've had tries it at some point, particularly about going to meetings.  "Since I went to Central Office to buy Literature for my service commitment tomorrow I don't have to go to a meeting today, I figure..."  or "I was at my General Services Representatives meeting this morning, so I don't have to go to an AA meeting tonight, right?"

On the one hand, that all sounds eminently logical -- and you can certainly do whatever you damn well please, as far as I'm concerned.

On the other hand, there's my dead sponsor.

My dead sponsor, the one who truly shaped how I do AA (and who's wise counsel I miss every single day of my life) was pretty clear on this point of trading on some other AA activity as "credit" for meeting attendance.  I have clear memories of many times I would be deftly weaving an excuse for not going to a meeting into a larger story about some other AA activity, and he would, depending on how much he was enjoying his coffee, let me go on a little.  Then he would take a long hit on his cigarette, tilt his head back to blow the smoke straight up into the air, smooth his toupee down a bit (it was a pretty good one, actually, and in all the years I knew him I never found it offputting) and then fix me with that look he had sometimes and say, "All your little phone calls with other people in the Program, and your coffee and Big Book time with sponsees and the rest of it... is not a meeting.  A meeting is a meeting."  And he would brook no further discussion on the topic.  I never even bothered to try to "yes, but..." him after a few months, he was so adept at shutting them down.  (A skill I need to foster, as I continue to sponsor).

And that's how I run my own Program today.  A meeting is a meeting.

As for Mr. 12th Step Call ... well, my suggestion will be that he double up and do two meetings tomorrow, to be back on track for his 90 in 90.  For myself, I must be disciplined about these things, and that is what I try to pass on to others.

Service work is important, sponsorship is important, fellowship is important -- hell, it's all important -- but a meeting is a meeting.

a little role clarification: sponsorship

Lots of sponsee phone calls today touching on all kinds of issues.

One sponsee was physically assaulted by a drunken neighbor the night before (he's okay).  Another is in a foreign country, handling difficult family fallout.  And still another sponsee is dealing with side effects from a change in some serious medication.  And then there were a few others with the regular challenges in getting through a sober day.  Today's phone conversations made me keenly aware of what I do -- and don't do -- as a sponsor.

Sponsorship is first and foremost about taking people through the 12 Steps, and helping them learn what the tools AA suggests an alcoholic use to get and stay sober actually are -- and then about suggesting which ones might provide the best chance for a sober alcoholic to keep their equilibrium in difficult situations.

But in general a sponsor does not really offer solutions to any particular problem.  (And anyone who tries to -- even with the best of intentions -- is perhaps playing at being an expert in things they may have no expertise in.)

What a sponsor does do (in addition to being just a good old fashioned confidant) is coach a sponsee in how to have a healthy involvement in AA overall, and when troubles arise make suggestions in how to use the tools of Alcoholics Anonymous to address whatever issue has come up.  (And so as not to be coy, I am specifically talking about tools like writing inventories, being rigorously honest, making amends when in the wrong, prayer, meditation, watching out for rash actions when hungry, angry, lonely or tired, etc., etc.)

Exceptions and other people's opinions and experiences not withstanding, that's how I have come to look at it.

fine tuning

He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.  His face looked strangely naked and a little weary without the glasses to hide behind.  "... so what you're saying is ... okay, I'm sorry, I don't know what you're saying."

I drank my coffee and tried to think of a different way to explain myself.  "Okay, you had a terrible, violent, abusive childhood, right?"

"Yes." 

"One of the things which often comes from that is a kind of low-grade but ever-present hypervigilance ..."

He cleaned his glasses with a napkin, sighed and said, "And this is where you start to lose me."

"Hypervigilance is technically a symptom of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  To define it without all the clinical lingo it means constantly scanning the environment for threats to your survival.  Children in abusive situations learn to do this not just in the literal warfare manner, like soldiers do -- that is, constantly scanning for snipers and bombs and such -- but in reading moods, facial expressions, body language ... without any power to protect themselves, they learn to be hypervigilant about social and relationship dynamics -- they're constantly, if sometimes unconsciously, 'reading' everyone in the room.  I believe that's true for lots of addicts, actually, even if their childhood was not as abusive as yours."

"Okay. So... what does that have to do with why I freak out at fellowship after the meeting?"

"Well, in my opinion -- and I'm only going from what I've learned from dealing with other alcoholics and my own stuff -- it's the fallout from your childhood that makes you hyper-aware of what's going on around you.  It's your alcoholism which then leads you to conclude that what's going on around you has anything to do with you."

"Oh."

"It's like the hypervigilance gives your alcoholism more to work with.  You are hyper aware of every eye roll, every sigh, every restless twitch -- and you conclude that each of those things mean you're boring or annoying or people don't want to spend time with you."

"Isn't that low self esteem?"

I shrugged and nodded.  "Yeah, it's that too.  The way I sort it out is that it's alcoholism which makes me certain that things are all about me, then it's either low self esteem or ego out of balance that gives a 'less than/better than' value to it."

"So trauma from my childhood makes me super aware of everyone, alcoholism makes me think that everyone I'm so super aware of is thinking about me, and low self esteem makes me think they're thinking I'm crap."

"Yeah -- I mean, that's how I fine tune my own process."

"Great, now I feel even more screwed up -- I don't have one thing wrong, it's like I have a bunch now."

"Don't -- I mean, okay, go ahead, you feel how you feel -- but fine tuning and untangling this stuff has helped me put names to it all, and then better understand what's happening to me when I am freaking out, and then eventually apply solutions which better match what's going on."

"And all that can make me drink."

"Oh no, not really.  All that is just ... the stuff ... you drink because you're a hope-to-die falling down drunk.  You drink because you're an alcoholic.  That part isn't complicated at all."

"Oh ... ummm, great, that, uh, that's simple enough.  Good news.  I guess."

And now, a word from the other side of the aisle...

A while ago I stumbled across this blog:

Stinkin' Thinkin' - Muckraking the 12 Step Industry

They're sometimes funny, often angry, and very passionate in their commitment to "debunking" the 12 Step Industry.  (Though right off the bat I think "industry" is a bit of a stretch.)

But I like 'em.  I have some powerful disagreements with many of their interpretations of what AA suggests, but I've always been a sucker for the scrappy nose-thumbers of the world.  Maybe much to their chagrin and certainly to my amusement, what we most likely have in common is the quality of defiance.

Certainly, while they said a few kind things about Mr. SponsorPants in one post, on the whole they gave me a sound spanking for the answer I gave to someone who wrote in -- and in retrospect I think they may well be right -- or at least, more than half right, even though I don't think I was as totally "off the beam" as they seem to.

23 years of regular AA attendance, 21 years clean and sober, hundreds of sponsees and thousands of meetings under my belt, I believe anything that provokes a good hard look at what AA is and what it says and what members of the fellowship do (and do not do) is an important and vital thing.

They do not advocate against being sober, they take the position that AA gets some important things wrong.  Obviously I disagree with them, but it helps me to hear them out.  And some of what they say is actually very worthy of consideration.

In particular, this most recent piece, entitled "12 Rights for Newcomers to AA/12 Step" is excellent.  They even submitted it to AA's Grapevine (for the new kids, the Grapevine is AA's official newsletter, and it has stories and information about both AA the fellowship and AA the organization, in addition to articles and essays of note about the 12 Steps and staying sober).  Apparently the Grapevine sent them a nice rejection letter, and chose not to publish it, which, as good muckrakers are wont to do, set them to muttering darkly, but I'm not certain I see anything shady in the rejection.  I know nothing of the Grapevine's editorial policy, though, so <shrug> who knows?

I will include the link so it can be seen at the source (that seems like the proper protocol for this sort of thing) but I will also for convenience (and without their permission, I should add, so if they want me to yank it they have but to ask) copy and paste it here:

A Modest Proposal: “12 Rights For New-Comers To AA/12 Step”

Posted on July 8, 2009 by speedy0314

The following has not been written, edited or endorsed by Alcoholics Anonymous World Services, AA’s General Service Office, nor AA’s Board of Directors. It is simply my humble offering to a fellowship whose sole purpose (as per its own ‘Preamble’) is “to stay sober and help other alcoholics to achieve sobriety.”

I fully intend to forward these ’suggestions’ to AAWS for their review.

The following “12 Rights For New-Comers To AA/12-Step” are merely suggestions, and should not be considered the province of ‘new-comers’ only. Even if “personal recovery depends on AA unity” (Tradition 1), AA is nothing without the individual ‘person’.

As a new-comer, you are sure to hear the phrase, “It’s a selfish program” within your first 90 days. With that in mind, let’s enumerate the rights you have as an individual within AA or any similar 12-step program:

1 – You have the right to trust yourself and place your own emotional, physical, & spiritual well-being above all things; although you may truly believe that it is, indeed, ‘insanity’ (or the ‘insanity’ of your alcoholism, drug addiction, etc.) that brought you to the 12-Step community, and you may truly believe that only an external ‘higher power’ can save you — you must know that within you an inherent spark of goodness and rationality resides; you trusted your decision to turn to 12-Step — now trust that there is goodness within you & you can draw upon it.

2 – You have the right to protect your own emotional, physical, & spiritual well-being at any and all costs; in the course of your own recovery always remember: “Primum non nocere” — first, do no harm, least of all to yourself.

3 – You have the right to look with a critical eye & ear toward your own discourse, the discourse of the program in which you are involved, and the discourse of the groups you attend; it’s written & often noted aloud, “It’s a program of suggestions” — suggestions you can take or leave according to your own better judgment; truth is found only after long deliberation & it often changes with the passage of time.

4 – You have the right to believe or disbelieve anything you want; again, “It’s a program of suggestions” — only you will know what is ‘true’ for you … at any time or in any situation.

5 – You have the right to use discretion when speaking aloud — whether privately or in a meeting; you may be “as sick as your secrets” but you’re also as vulnerable as you allow yourself to be; choose your words & the venue in which you speak them aloud advisedly.

6 – You have the right to go at your own pace; it’s “A day at a time” right? nothing and no one can ‘make’ you ‘entirely ready’ to do anything; trust & have faith in yourself — any loving ‘higher power’ would grant you that gift first & foremost.

7 – You have the right to acknowledge & honor your own strengths — even while ‘asking for the removal of your shortcomings’; the simple act of asking for the ‘removal of your shortcomings’ takes more than simple humility; it takes great inner reserve & courage.

8 – You have the right to put yourself right at the top of the list of people you may have harmed & are willing to make amends to; the word ‘amend’ is a verb which means “to put things right”; get right with yourself first & getting right with others will be of far less effort.

9 – You have the right to trust yourself & your better judgment when it comes to ‘making amends’; sometimes the best way to make things right is to simply leave things as they are; sometimes a wish for someone’s health, happiness, & prosperity is far more appropriate than an overwrought, unwelcome letter of apology.

10 – You have the right not to be a doormat; there’s no better advice than, “Check your own damned self!”; still, your life & your actions are things to approach with joy & creativity; express sorrow & apology only when you feel that it’s the right thing to do — not for every tiny, unexpected blunder; you’re human for higher power’s sake! you’re going to f**k up sometimes & that’s just part of the human condition; chin up, smile, move on.

11 – You have the right embrace & practice your faith as you see fit, as well as the right not to do so; these days, even hard science is acknowledging the benefits of ‘mindful meditation’ … but I ain’t the boss of you and neither is your sponsor, your group, or the Big Book; if you’re staying sober and bringing good things to yourself and the people around you, then you’re doing the right thing … period.

12 – You have the right to share or withhold your experience, strength, & hope; helping people when they’re down (alcoholic, drug addict, what the hell ever) is just the right thing to do — when you’re strong enough & best able to do so; ‘carrying a message’ isn’t nearly the act of courage and compassion that the act of simply listening is; if you know that someone is hurting themselves then let them know that you know it; if you strongly suspect someone is seriously on the verge of taking their own life (through inadvertent or explicit actions) then it’s your legal duty to alert the authorities; don’t let anyone tell you that “You can’t keep a drunk/drug addict from killing themselves.  Only God can do that.”; you are your brothers’ keeper … deal with it.

I’m not holding my breath for the printing & distribution of a third ‘lampshade’.  But the above was written with sincerity, humility, and an earnest wish to offer strength and ease to any AA ‘new-comer’ … or any AA/12-Step member for that matter.  Acknowledge the divinity within yourself and you will be free.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

As I said, I think the above is wonderful -- well written and makes some great suggestions.  I don't see anything in it that contradicts what AA suggests, either (except that "selfish" thing in the opening, which I address at the bottom of this post) ... nor does it fly in the face of what I ever imagine any of my sponsors saying to me along the way, nor do I myself personally disagree with what it says.

I wish the "Stinkin' Thinkers" well, and as many of the commentors on their site have suggested, it's great that they found a way to be sober that worked for them, and they're doing a great service by sharing that with others who may be struggling with alcoholism.

I believe there are many paths to the top of the same mountain -- I give them a jaunty wave over there on theirs as I keep trudging along on mine.

Cheers!

Mr. SponsorPants

p.s. -- and they call "H.P." Hocus Pocus -- LOL I love that ... I am totally going to use that, even though I fear they might get mad at me for borrowing that, too.

p.p.s. -- some of the pro-AA commentors on their site are less than diplomatic, or downright argumentative.  I believe it is possible to state with passion your side of an argument without giving in to some of our lower impulses.  If any pro-12 Steppers visit the site and feel the need to comment I hope that it is done in the spirit which AA suggests we approach all such things:  With love and tolerance for others.  That, after all, is our code.

p.p.p.s. -- And a personal note to speedy0314:  It is a selfless program, not a selfish program -- I think that gets turned around a lot by people in an effort to suggest to someone new that making their sobriety a priority will help them stay sober, but in my experience in no way is AA a "selfish" program.

Wormtongue strikes again

SPONSEE:  Do you know Wormtongue?

MR. SPONSORPANTS: <carefully neutral>  Yes.

SPONSEE:  I was talking with them the other day.

MR. SP:  Oh?

SPONSEE:  Yes.  You know I've been feeling disconnected from AA these past couple of weeks.  Just ... I don't know, a lot of questions again, about if it's right for me after all these years, if it's still right for me today even if it was right for me before... all that.

MR. SP:  I understand.  You have more than fifteen years sober and a lot of AA under your belt.  I've had my share of those times myself over the years.  I think they're fair questions to ask along the way -- but when I did, I found it pretty fruitful to consider how and why they were comin' up.

SPONSEE:  I was talking to Wormtongue about it.

<silence for several minutes.  Mr. SponsorPants sips his coffee and focuses on his breathing>

SPONSEE:  Don't you want to know what they said?

MR. SP:  <carefully neutral>  Sure.

SPONSEE:  Well, you know Wormtongue's more than 20 years sober.

MR. SP:  <thinks to himself:  How can I not know.  How can anyone not know.  They mention it every single time they freakin' share.>  Yes.  I know.

SPONSEE:  I was talking to them about all my stuff lately, and they said that maybe what I'm finally seeing is that most people in meetings only focus on the problems.  All that talk about being sick.  Lots of negative reinforcement.

MR. SP:  'What you're finally seeing.'  Interesting turn of phrase...  <takes deep calming breath>  I can't speak for the meetings Wormtongue goes to, we're not really in the same orbit.  For myself, I have to remember what my dead sponsor told me a long time ago.

SPONSEE:  Are you just going to tell me, or do I have to ask?

MR. SP:  <laughs> I'll tell.  He said if you don't hear what you need to hear in a meeting, then raise your damn hand and say it.  After about 90 days there's not a person in the room who can't at least begin to share some solutions.

SPONSEE:  When did he die?

MR. SP:  Oh God, years ago now.  You know I ...

SPONSEE: ... miss his wise counsel every single day.  Yes, you've mentioned that. 

MR. SP:  What is this "negative reinforcement" Wormtongue was talking about?

SPONSEE:  Oh, well, like if you get up and say at a meeting that you're having a really hard time, and things are all messed up in your life, you get lots of attention for that, but if you get up and say you're doing pretty well now, and you have fairly healthy relationships with your family or your partner or whoever, you don't really get any response.  They suggested I try it and see for myself.

MR. SP:  Did they now.

SPONSEE: Yeah. That's what they suggested.

MR. SP:  That's not a suggestion, that's a set up.  Telling you what something might mean if it happens is setting you up to look for it -- maybe even create it, somewhat.  It gives you a filter...

<Mr. SponsorPants takes a long moment to make sure he doesn't start losing his cool>

MR. SP:  I have some thoughts on their comments I'd like to share with you.

SPONSEE:  That's why I'm here.  It's not for your coffee.

MR. SP:  I make excellent coffee -- I just happen to like it strong.

SPONSEE:  Strong?  That's not strong, that's practically an amphetamine in six counties.  Anyway, your thoughts on Wormtongue's comments, oh Sponsorial One?

MR. SP:  You go into an Emergency Room with a big lump on your head and bleeding, and you say, "I just drove into a tree!"  people will -- hopefully -- jump up and help you.  You go into an ER all fine and you say, "I was driving along, and I missed hitting that tree, I finally figured out how to negotiate that treacherous turn."  A few people may give you congratulatory smiles or something, but you don't need them to jump up and help you, since you're okay.  So of course the response is different when people are troubled in meetings -- that's what we're there for:  To help.  Sure, it also helps to affirm and congratulate, but why would we make a big show of that? 

SPONSEE:  Hmmm. Okay.

MR. SP:  <beginning to get a little heated>  And what is going on with that anyway?  There is a point where you do not go to the meeting for your pat on the head.  It's a purely selfish stance to go to the meeting and share something and then decide that not enough people congratulated you for whatever you had to say.  And you know what else?  <voice rising>

SPONSEE:  <calmly>  What else?

MR. SP:  Could it possibly BE more alcoholic to expect a reward for doing something right or being healthy?  I mean, my god!  It's like, if you show up at work on time all week, you don't deserve a trophy, you're supposed to show up on time all week!  If you don't have a lot of sickness in your life or unhealthy relationships that's a testament to working the 12 Steps and trying to live the principles in your life, not some kind of 'Hey look how healthy I am!' moment for you to crow about and then get stroked for in meetings!  And another thing! I hear people offer solutions, and speak about the promises coming true, and recovery and ... and ... positive healthy things all the time!  You would think after 20 years sober someone might ...

<at this point sponsee can barely contain their mirth and starts laughing outright>

MR. SP:  Oh my god, you ... you ... you set me up!

SPONSEE:  <laughing>  Absolutely.  But you did really well there for a while, Mr. SponsorPants.  I commend you.

MR. SP:  Oh. You are SO dead.

<sponsee laughs long and hard>

MR. SP:  Happy now?

SPONSEE:  Oh yes.  That was thoroughly enjoyable.  But you didn't turn red this time.  I must be losing my touch.

MR. SP:  Out!  You are banished from the Kingdom of SponsorPants for the rest of the day.  Out!

<sponsee sticks out tongue and sails out the door laughing>

"...because you wanted to be..."

SPONSEE:  But I don't understand, why am I so mad?

MR. SPONSORPANTS:  Well, finding out that your spouse is also an alcoholic is, if not a big surprise, certainly not what you signed on for.  But then, neither did they with you.

SPONSEE:  Okay, but ... shouldn't I be feeling, I don't know... compassion?  Identification?  Or maybe even some weird sort of relief?  Why am I so upset?

MR. SP:  Well ... I'm reminded of the old joke, actually.  Ancient.  Before you were born.

SPONSEE:  At least it's not one of your food analogies.

MR. SP:  I guess it's not a joke really, it's just more of a zing, but I always thought it described alcoholics perfectly:  "At every wedding they want to be the bride, at every funeral they want to be the corpse."

SPONSEE:  And this relates to the fact that I am upset about finding out my spouse is an alcoholic ... how, exactly?

MR. SP:  I guess if I had to guess, what's really bothering you deep down is ... remember all that stuff on your inventory about  [specific inventory stuff].

SPONSEE:  Oh.

MR. SP:  Yeah.  You're mad because you wanted to be...

SPONSEE:  My god! I'm mad because I wanted to be the Special One!

MR. SP:  <shrugs> I could be wrong.  But you, my dear, are a real alcoholic, and I cannot think of anything that embodies the essence of the alcoholic more than that desire ... well, okay, there are other things, that's a little grand, but still, that is really, really alcoholic. <laughs>  Now you have to share the stage.  Now you can't be the only sensitive, tantrum-throwing, damaged, super-special, bravely-recovering, ism-ridden person in the relationship.  Oh!  The betrayal!  <laughs>   But again, I could be wrong.

SPONSEE:  I wish you were but I think ... damn.

MR. SP:  I actually did have food analogy, if you wanted it.

SPONSEE: Of course you did.

It's a little bit like that "six degrees of Kevin Bacon" thing.

This story is old now, the dust has settled on the "breaking news" aspect of it, so I feel comfortable sharing it here in a very general way.

______________________________________________________________________________

A sponsee of mine had been casually seeing someone (you really don't need me to spell that out, right?) and the "someone" turned out to be newly sober, though my sponsee didn't know that when they met.

They "casually saw" each other on and off, as grownups do, when their schedules were free and when in the mood.  No drama around that, all parties involved were consenting adults.  They both eventually ran into each other at an AA meeting, but the one activity didn't really overlap with the other...

until...

...the person my sponsee was seeing sent them a text talking about relapse -- the text was garbled and it was unclear to my sponsee when they read it whether this was a disclosure of having already relapsed, or an abbreviated call for help that they were going to relapse.

(Aside to the new kids:  If you're in trouble, don't freakin' Tweet about it -- go old school and give someone a call.  Yes.  An actual telephone call.  I promise your mobile device still actually does that.)

Thus the phone call to me.  My sponsee filled me in on the nature of the connection and asked for my two cents on the best, most helpful next move in responding...

...except that as we talked, and my sponsee filled me in, I realized that I also sponsored the roommate of the person that the first sponsee had been casually seeing, and had called me about, even though my sponsee was making every effort to be circumspect themselves, to respect the anonymity of the person who texted them. (I swear to you we live in a big city.  There are thousands of AA meetings here every week, and as many ways for two consenting adults who want to casually see someone to meet as there are actual consenting adults to go around.)

Still with me?  Okay.

So... as soon as I realized this, so that I didn't feel like I was keeping a secret from the sponsee who had called me, I explained that I actually knew who this person was that had texted, and that they were concerned about, and that in fact I sponsored the person they'd been casually seeing's roommate.

Then we talked about the best way to approach, via helping another alcoholic, this person.  My sponsee is a good AA, and just wanted to touch base with someone before reaching out.  We brainstormed a bit and shared with each other some things we'd heard that had been helpful to us about relapse, either stepping back from it before it happens or stopping it from playing out to its worst conclusion if it has already started.

Naturally I assured my sponsee that the details of what we discussed would stay between us.  Someone had asked them for help, they in turn asked me for some ideas on how best to do that -- the relapse and etc., was not something I would pass along.

Because here's the thing:  I felt ethically bound not to violate the confidentiality of the first sponsee with the second, even though the second was going to certainly be impacted by their roommate's relapse -- they had met via AA and it was a "sober" apartment.

To check myself on this, I prayed about it some, then picked up the phone and talked to an old friend of mine, sober for 20+ years himself, and in another city, so I could disclose the scenario without feeling like I was carrying tales.  My belief was that my second sponsee was not in danger of his own relapse from the relapse of his roommate.  (Based on a number of things I won't go into here, but solidly rooted in the fact that my second sponsee was heavily involved in AA, had just finished some serious Step work, and had a real equilibrium in their recovery.  Because equal to my obligation to the sponsee who called me was my obligation to the other sponsee to speak up if I thought their sobriety was in any jeopardy.)  My friend listened to me, and felt like my conclusions, given what I knew, were pretty solid.

Then I just had to be helpful to the first sponsee as they moved into 12th Step mode and be close-mouthed and ready to be of help to the second sponsee as this whole thing came to light.

Which it eventually did.  And we've had several conversations since about how they were going to deal with this in the context of wanting to live in a "sober" household.

Of course once things came out, (without disclosing anything about the first sponsee to the second), so that I didn't feel like I was being dishonest I let the second sponsee know that yes, I was already aware of the roommate's relapse (for that's what it turned out to be) but hadn't told them for reasons that were about keeping other people's confidences -- weighed against anything potentially threatening their sobriety -- which I judged to be safe and solid -- and it was and is (for today -- as with any of us, just for today.)

If you think this story is over dramatized, and after reading to this point you wonder, "Jeeze, what's the big deal, sounds like a soap opera more than anything else..." I fear I am perhaps not making the points I want to as well as I might -- so in an effort to be clear let me list the five that I feel worthwhile:

1.  One of the most important aspects of sponsorship is trust -- because when people are struggling with addiction, they're literally trying to save their own life.  Thus, it's no trifling matter when someone comes to you with a problem -- they need to have trust both in the sponsor/sponsee connection and that the details of what they're confiding will indeed remain confidential.

2.  When a sponsor sees a situation that may threaten a sponsee's sobriety, it is their responsibility to speak up -- even if they may be wrong.  Better to be mistaken and have a sponsee be sober (irritated maybe, but sober) than not say anything and wish that you had.

3.  There were a lot of phone calls back and forth as this unfolded, but none of it was gossip -- talking about how to best help someone, and asking for confirmation on your conclusions -- is always the right thing to do.  Confidentiality doesn't mean we can't ask for assistance in figuring out the best way to help.  No one has to try to handle 12th Step work on their own -- nor should they.

4.  AA can better help you if you pick up the phone before you pick up the drink -- but if you goof that up, still pick up the phone, because probably we can still help (once you sober up).

5.  Maybe I gotta get out of this town.

Just a stretching exercise

A dozen or so years ago I was sponsoring a fellow who was in both Alcoholics Anonymous and Overeaters Anonymous.  He had a good amount of time in both programs (double digits in each, continuous sobriety and more-or-less continuous abstinence -- the OA equivalent of staying sober).

Naturally enough I was his AA sponsor, and as he was between OA sponsors (and had been for a bit, it turned out) he would occasionally bring up challenges he was having in his abstinence to discuss how to better apply the 12 Steps and thus remain clean with his food.  One struggle he had at the time was the issue of tolerance in OA meetings.  He'd hit a wall, and found himself impatient and judgmental with people in OA.  "Well," I said, "we know that the more we're of service, the better we ultimately feel, so if this problem is ongoing, why don't you start an OA meeting?  Founding a meeting is, in many ways, the ultimate in service."  He had enough know-how in the 12 Step world that this should not have been a terribly daunting task for him -- the only challenge he would face would be the willingness to do it.  "Uh... great idea, Mr. SponsorPants."

About this same time another sponsee of mine hit some financial difficulties, and wound up moving in with the OA/AA fellow.  Ordinarily I would never sponsor roommates (it just seems like a bad idea) but circumstances being what they were it was a handy financial solution for them both.

Unfortunately, in the kind of coincidental plot twist which would be trite if this were fiction, they each wound up being nominated for secretary of an AA meeting they were both quite fond of, and Mr. OA/AA lost to Mr. AA. 

(For the new kids, being secretary of a meeting is not actually a prestige position -- in fact, AA specifically states that our "leaders are but trusted servants, they do not govern" -- but it is also true that, human nature being what it is, and alcoholism being what it is, people sometimes tend to take the role a bit too seriously.  Yes, it is a responsibility, but it is no more -- or less -- important than any other service position in a meeting.  And no matter how you approach it, when there is an election for anything, at the end of the vote tally one person wins and the other ... doesn't win.  For some, that understandably brings up all sorts of echoes of rejections past.)

Mr. OA/AA did not take the election result very well.  And, I think it would be fair to say that Mr. AA gloated a bit as he paraded around the apartment they now shared.

A few weeks go by and in one the resentment festers and in the other the ego swells.

Sitting down with Mr. OA/AA for our weekly sponsor/sponsee time, Mr. OA/AA announces that he's started a meeting, just as I had suggested.

"Oh?" I say, "That's great.  When is it?"

He tells me when, and it is exactly the same day and time as the meeting Mr. AA is now secretary of.

"That's exactly the same day and time as the meeting Mr. AA is now secretary of."  I say, in the same tone one must use when saying, "Why look! There!  In the middle of the living room!  An elephant!"

"Yes, but my meeting is a pot luck!"  He crows.

"I'm sorry ... a what?"

"A pot luck!"  He goes on to explain that what he did was start an AA meeting in his apartment, and he made it a pot luck, so that people could bring food and he (naturally) would cook up a storm for the meeting, since it was his kitchen.  The craftier among you reading this will instantly imagine the hundred different ways one might spitefully bang around a kitchen, filling an apartment with delicious smells, etc., while one's roommate is preparing to go off and do his own service commitment.

It gets better.

"I told Mr. AA it was your suggestion, too."

"You did."  I said, thinking that it's the little stuff people kill over, not the big stuff.  Serious trouble?  People help.  Borrow the stapler off their desk without asking and it's "Mommie Dearest" screaming "Tina!  Get me the axe!"

"Okay," I say, "Seems to me that you owe Mr. AA a pretty serious amends."

"What?!?"

"Yes, because you and I both know that ..."

"You suggested I start a meeting!"

"I suggested you start an OA meeting.  You started an AA meeting which includes a meal."

He would not back down and he insisted it was merely the best time to have the meeting, and that there was no malice involved, and that all he recalled was my suggesting he start a meeting.

It was more chilling than funny, since at the time I think he absolutely, sincerely, unequivocally thought that was true.

Probably all people have the ability to talk themselves into believing the most arrant nonsense if it suits some other, usually more selfish, purpose.  But alcoholics have developed this foible to a high, fine art.  (And remember, for perspective, this man had more than ten years sober at the time...)

I try to keep this story in mind any time I've got one of those prickly little resentments going, and I've convinced myself that it's just too small a thing to bother writing about, and I'm faced with a choice in how to deal with the person I resent.

Time sober does not mean you can't easily convince yourself that reaching for the axe is merely a stretching exercise.

Gotta watch out for that.