Modern 12 Step Recovery

A Review by John B.

Maybe you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, but Glenn Rader has shown us you can give an old program a new look. Using a friendly and factual approach presented in an easy-to-read style, the 1938 AA antique program of recovery  is analyzed from a 21st century perspective. Rader’s respect for Wilson and his program is easily detected from the outset, but like many of us in recovery, who credit our sobriety to AA participation, he takes the liberty to re-structure the 12 Steps in a manner completely devoid of any reference to God. His approach is to explain the effectiveness of the Steps in terms of widely accepted principles of psychological and physical health – a secular and humanistic approach that relies on science, not a deity.

The first two sections of the book “provide a practical perspective on addiction and the fundamentals of recovery.” (p. 4) Both topics are addressed clearly and concisely. Rader relies on the American Society of Addiction Medicine (ASAM) and the American Psychological Association (APA) for the definition of addiction. ASAM defines addiction as “a primary chronic disease of brain reward, motivation, memory, and related circuity.” (p. 6) The APA says “addiction is a chronic brain disorder with social, biological, psychological, and environmental factors influencing its development and maintenance.” (p. 6)

Click on the cover to view the book on Amazon

As a follow-up to these you’ll find mention of several dysfunctional manifestations that accompany chronic addiction and a clear description of “the path to addiction”. Rader depicts seven points along that path and even though I have now been sober well over 37 years he enabled me to visualize what I had been like at each of the points: genetics, emotional foundation, initial exposure, transitional dependency, delusional thinking and behavior, crossing the line, and living an alternative reality. These glimpses into the past gave me a sense of gratitude for the rewards sobriety has given me, and I would think this explanation of the disease concept would be useful to newcomers.

Rader specifies four fundamentals of recovery: self-direction, abstinence, physical health maintenance, and cognitive-behavioral transformation. Sticking with his clear and concise style, he gives the reader a thorough explanation of each fundamental and stresses that they are interrelated and that each one needs to be dealt with on a continual basis. This of course begs the question “just how am I supposed to do this?”

How Mr. Rader answers that question is far superior to the answers found in the chapters “How It Works” and “Into Action” in the basic text of AA. The wording of the modern 12 Steps and the single action word the author assigns to each of them conveys a much stronger message than the Big Book. That judgment is mine, not Rader’s.

It would be a mistake to look at the title of the book and to expect a harsh critique of AA. Rader sees the creation of AA as a major breakthrough, superior to the recovery programs that preceded it, but he politely curtails his praise by saying “it was a layman’s undertaking by smart, motivated, recovering alcoholics who were trying to help others with the same serious illness.” (p. 41) He does concede that the underlying principles in the 12 Steps “…are very contemporary from the standpoint of modern psychology.” (p. 41)

The modern psychology that Rader refers to is Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT). He carefully explains the connection between CBT and his modern AA Steps, and stresses that it is important for the alcoholic to understand that what AA does for you is firmly grounded in modern psychology.

AA gets credit for identifying the psychic change necessary to achieve successful recovery, for devising the steps toward making the change, and for creating the mutual support network for the alcoholic to tie into. Here again the author politely separates himself from the AA pioneers and backs up his belief system with this simple statement, “Today we have the benefit of more than eighty years of research into the psychology of thinking and behavior to draw from to get a better understanding of why the 12 Step program has been effective for people.” (p. 44) In other words, science gives us the answer we seek, not divine intervention. The author devotes a major portion of the book to explain the basics of Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, the interrelationship between CBT and the Modern 12 Steps, and a detailed action plan for a sobriety seeker to follow.

This book is worthy of being added to your recovery library. Clarity and conciseness is the model. The material gives the reader the ability to see that the efficacy of the 12 Steps is solidly based on science not on a person’s ability to tap into a divine power source. The author presents a respectful and meaningful connection between “old fashioned” AA and his version of 21st century AA. This book would have been of great value to me 41 years ago when I struggled with the God question and floundered in ignorance about alcoholism. This book deserves to be used by addiction counsellors, handed to patients in treatment facilities like the Big Book was handed to me in 1980, and a place on the literature tables at meetings and at conventions.


You can watch a video version of a podcast with John Sheldon, the founder of Beyond Belief Sobriety, and Glenn Rader. Here it is: Modern 12 Step Recovery, by Glenn Rader.

John reports: “In this episode, I had a conversation with the author, Glenn Rader, who talked about why he thinks it’s important that AA and the Twelve Steps be framed within the context of modern psychology.”


Here’s a link to a website that includes printable and downloadable items from the book: Modern 12 Step Recovery.


The author of the review, John B, is an eighty-four year old sober alcoholic with 36 years of continuous sobriety. His alcoholism ultimately led to treatment, and eventually led to a career as an addiction counselor. John provided individual and group counseling to vets at the Marion, Indiana, V.A. hospital. He retired from the V.A. in 2001 and fondly describes it as the most challenging and satisfying job he ever had. John has also served as office manager for a major AA intergroup office in Ft. Wayne, Indiana for six and a half years. John reads 20 to 25 books a year, and three or four quality periodicals on a regular basis; mostly about politics, economics, science, history: about anything going on in the world that strikes his curiosity.

Glenn Rader is an accomplished business professional with a background in organization development and an MBA from the University of Michigan. He is in successful recovery from alcohol and drug addiction and is a public speaker, author, and a resource in the addiction recovery community. Glenn is also the author of the book STOP – Things You Must Know Before Trying to Help Someone with Addiction. The book is the product of his work with families and friends of addicts at a major addiction treatment centre.


The post Modern 12 Step Recovery first appeared on AA Agnostica.

A New Man

Chapter 15:
Do Tell! Stories by Atheists and Agnostics in AA

David B.

Coming to: What happened? Where am I? Who am I? Most alcoholics are familiar with this feeling: an abyss of loss and then a desperate search for the events that led to this point. Sometimes there’s nothing, sometimes there’s a flash – of momentarily seeing, understanding something, but that disappears in a flash, too. And then sometimes – if you’re as determined as I’ve always been – you will chase the flash that might, eventually, lead you to your awakening, a new coming to; a reality where you can finally function without having to compromise your true self.

* * *

In December of 2004, I came to with several emergency technicians around me; there was noise: words, words, words… Maybe words? People yelling, at me, to me: trying to engage me in a conversation – asking me if I could hear them, if I knew where I was. My wife, there too, pleading with me to come out of it, come to.

Come to what? I felt confused.

What date, where was I, did I know what happened? The questions kept on, or maybe they were asked once and my brain was only getting to them now, after playing them on the loop. Words.

So I said some words back, answered some questions. I tried.

My body wasn’t cooperating either – it was sore; it was a body beat up from contracting, seizing, twitching. My tongue screamed with pain: I bit it, repeatedly, just moments ago.

A grand mal seizure.

Finally, there was clarity in the chaos – words coming together, aligning with their meaning. My wife’s eyes looking at me with relief. Vicki. I was coming to. Back to reality. Vicki could see that I would live.

A doctoral dissertation – “Experiences of Atheists and Agnostics in AA” – is based on the book Do Tell. For more information click on the above image.

And in four months, thanks to the seizure, I would question this life that I was coming to.

I lost my driver’s license. There were medical tests: Why did I have the seizure? I told the doctors about painkillers and drinking too much but that wasn’t it – although after my confession, I was prescribed Topamax, which creates monster hangovers. My anxiety was monstrous too. There were more medical tests. The doctors said I was possibly epileptic. They wanted to know where the seizure came from. It wasn’t the first one and as months went on, there was pressure to learn my medical history.

What complicated things was the fact that I was adopted. I had to find out more: it seemed my life depended on it.

And here’s what I found: Miss Bender, 56 years old, died in 1996 of alcoholism. My biological mother. My DNA, my medical history. (Me: “Baby Boy Bender” on the birth certificate – that last name, a grand irony or what?)

I couldn’t deal with it, with my genetics – like me drowning in Jack Daniels, that was yet another truth I didn’t want a part of. So I did what every addict does when confronted with reality: I put that information in a box – figuratively, literally – and the progression of my alcoholism went off the charts.

* * *

Nine-plus months later, picture this: a grown man bawling his eyes out in front of a room full of strangers.

My name is, I say – but everything – like these people, this room – remains unfamiliar for a moment. Even my name and who I am. And whatever happened in the past 24 hours is a blur of one tormented, interrupted sleep; flashbacks of my son and my wife bringing me clothes, other things… a fog of events, feelings of humiliation, too, as my body detoxed.

Then I was off to the treatment center; there was a five minutes-long assessment; more confusion – Who am I? Why am I here? – and I was thrown into this room. An AA meeting.

And now, in this room, bawling; all eyes on me – compassionate eyes, encouraging eyes of people who understand why I’m bawling -I finally choke it out: My name is David and I’m an alcoholic.

Instantly, I feel an immense relief: I know who I am. Only for a flash at this point, but it’s the first time I recognize something concrete about myself.

There’s shame too – for now, only the leftover shame any alcoholic feels; the shame that haunts and often makes sobriety seem like the worst idea ever because you’ll have to face it, the shame. But in this moment, saying the words, admitting who I am, the relief is bigger than the shame; the desire to stop drinking is genuine. It trumps the shame. The shame will come back – it will haunt me for years – but right now even the shame is only a shadow; it waits for me to finish coming to in this room full of strangers. They are bearing witness to a man dying and becoming a new man right before their eyes – the eyes who already know everything without knowing anything specific about me. What they know – everything – is that I am coming back to reality.

* * *

Every day, I am a new man. This has been a theme in my life. As a sober alcoholic, being a new man every day helps me keep in touch with the world around me: I must always be aware of my perception and how close it is to reality. The closer the better.

I am close today.

Wait. Let me check: yes, I am still here. Still sober.

Today, my perception is aligned with my reality.

* * *

You see, addicts have a problem with perception – this is not because we’re stupid; we’re just used to life that is based on manipulation, double-think, secrets – any thing to confirm our delusions. We’re used to not wanting to see things for how they are – we especially avoid the truth of our addiction. And even when we see it, our addiction, we are helpless against it: just because you know something is very wrong, it doesn’t mean you know how to treat it.

When we drink or use, we try to mold the world around us to suit the addiction – for example, I’ve spent years in my basement office, drinking and watching television. One show, Intervention, sticks in mind – the ridiculousness of it: me, an addict, watching other addicts. Me watching addicts drink themselves to death while drinking myself to death. It’s not that I thought that that was the right thing to do – sitting there and making myself die, slowly – it’s just that I did it because it suited me at the time. My perception wasn’t aligned with my reality. But it allowed me to avoid everything that was happening outside of the basement. Like the world that was happening upstairs, the real world.

Upstairs, outside the basement, there was my daughter and son, and my wife.

Upstairs, there I was: a successful businessman.

Upstairs, there I was: a social guy with an ability to draw people. There was a beautiful lake and a lifestyle that was fun and full of adventure.

But then look back in to the basement: there I was, too, drinking. Alone. There I was: a man who self-imprisoned with all kinds of alcohol and a cooler full of ice, no food, in the same basement; a three-day-long bender. (Coming to with my face planted in my keyboard: Where am I? Did anyone see me like this?

My son did. He saw me passed out and he called my wife. I found out later he thought I was dead; my wife told him to spend the night at a friend’s place.)

But I made it all work – no, it didn’t work at all.

It was my perception that deceived me – my perception was warped; it allowed all of that to co-exist, however dysfunctional.

There was something else there the whole time: that box with a secret. The box where I knew something about myself but wasn’t sure how to deal with. My mother, how she died, how she… relinquished me. Another twist in this tale of who I was or wasn’t.

* * *

The definition of perception is three things: “The way you think about or understand someone or something; the ability to understand or notice something easily; the way that you notice or understand something using one of your senses.” Was I doomed? Perhaps. Because how could I ever have the right perception of the guy I was if, at the age of 44, after the seizure, I learned I was somebody else entirely?

The facts: my biological mother died of alcoholism. I drank constantly.

There was no coming out of darkness without facing it – all of it – properly. But you can’t face anything when you can’t think or understand, or even use your senses. When your perception is a deformity.

And even today, sober, that guy is a part of me, or rather that story is a part of me, like my mysterious DNA – and this is why I check in with reality all the time. This is why I question my perception. I must. I am not living in a delusion of addiction any more but it’s easy to slip into it.

For an alcoholic, it takes a second – or not even a second, a millisecond – to lose the reality of addiction. Since 2005, I haven’t had a relapse but I’ve heard and read about them enough to be aware of them.

For now, I’m David and I’m an alcoholic. And I just have to remember that I am that man, a new man. Every day.

* * *

I don’t just mean this metaphorically since as an adoptee and an alcoholic, I come by my newness honestly. I’ve led the kind of split existence that can only be dealt with by ignoring it, numbing what I knew, and didn’t know. I refer to myself as a relinquishee – rejected by his birth parents but also having to adapt to the reality of my adopted family. Because of this, I’ve always had problems with attachment and reaching out to people… my sense of rejection shadowed my whole life. So I drank over that too. Alcohol silenced the war that was going on in my head – me against myself; the adoptee versus the adopted.

* * *

Sobriety was the number-one place where I felt at home. After that first meeting, I sat in dozens of group sessions at the rehab facility, still full of skepticism, fear, confusion. The shame was sneaking its way back, but for now I immersed myself in my recovery. In the sessions, I watched the people I dubbed COINS: Commuity of Individuals Needing Support – people who needed the same support I did. They were like coins because there were so many of them: they came from NA, AA, Marijuana Anonymous… There were also volunteers and professionals who talked about relapse prevention strategies, disease of addiction – finally, spirituality. I didn’t always understand what was being taught but I was determined: I had to adapt to survive. And I knew two things; One: If these people are wrong I will never trust anyone ever, again, and Two: If they’re wrong, I’m dead.

I secured a mentor, a sponsor who right after I graduated from rehab said, You’re not going home to sleep in your own bed – you are going to an AA meeting. And that’s where I went.

* * *

It was where I stayed: 450 meetings in the first 365 days of my sobriety. I read every bit of AA-approved literature I could put my hands on; then I read some things mentioned in the Big Book such as The Varieties of Religious Experiences by William James.

I sold my house on the lake to change my former lifestyle – full of drinking buddies, well-meaning neighbors who greeted me from rehab with a welcome basket, a 1.75 liter bottle of Jack Daniels perched on top – and I attended conferences, readings… I went back to the same rehab facility six months into sobriety to passionately talk about my new life.

And I lived happily ever after.

* * *

No I didn’t. I tried. Very hard. What was standing in my way was Shame, again. And now I was finding it in the rooms of AA!

I kept finding it because I was missing something – a crucial thing, specifically god. I kept hearing, Let go and let God. I was told I was too self-centered; I wasn’t able to turn my life over to my (?) Higher Power; I had to set aside my pride and my ego; make room for this god who kept evading me.

God. Where was she?

I looked for her, for god, everywhere as the shame of not being able to find her, of not fitting in, again, was getting bigger and bigger. I tried to immerse myself, to come to a spiritual experience that included god.

So I read about god. I talked about god to rabbis and pastors, and during lunches, I sat in a beautiful St. Andrew’s church near my workplace, waiting for god to appear. I prayed day and night… but to what?

I suppose I was praying to lure her out, make her appear like a genie from a bottle. And speaking of bottles – my fear was that I was going to go back to it, the bottle, if I didn’t find this god.

This went on for eight, grueling, shame-filled years.

Sit back. Relax. God will get in touch with you. God exists: after all, God graced you with sobriety.

It made no sense to me. I was getting hopeless.

My perception was getting blurred.

* * *

Except there was hope. There was a new coming to.

I had a specific tool and it was the same one as always: immersing myself in something and this time it was going on a quest but a completely opposite one of the one I had been on. Because, I thought, surely, there are others like me out there? Just like there were other relinquishees in the world, there must be others in the program who also couldn’t make sense out of the god part.

There were. Lots of them.

First in books.

Appendix II in Alcoholics Anonymous
Beyond Belief: Agnostic Musings for 12 Step Life
The Little Book: A Collection of Alternative 12 Steps
Don’t Tell: Stories and Essays by Agnostics and Atheists in AA
An Atheist’s Unofficial Guide to AA – For Newcomers
Waiting: A Nonbeliever’s Higher Power
The Five Keys: 12 Step Recovery Without A God

Then in on-line chat rooms and blogs, and so I immersed myself yet again, this time into a like-minded community within the program that made me come to originally.

* * *

Essentially, the story of my life are genetic clues, a series of coming-tos, adapting to a recovery program where I didn’t quite fit in and then, finally, coming to my senses, my feelings and my values.

I realized I needed to conduct myself in alliance with who I truly was instead of adapting and using all of my energy – the energy that was needed in my life outside of recovery, my family, my career – to try to fit in. This new, agnostic reality was perfectly aligned with mine – this reality gave me permission to finally find my true place in the world.

It was in the rooms of agnostic AA where I became the new man that I am now – a man who’s a whole bunch of parts and contradictions but who is also whole, most true to himself and his reality.

Coming to: a new man.


Do Tell! [Front Cover]This is a chapter from the book: Do Tell! Stories by Atheists and Agnostics in AA.

The paperback version of Do Tell! is available at Amazon. It is also available via Amazon in Canada and the United Kingdom.

It can be purchased online in all eBook formats, including Kindle, Kobo and Nook and as an iBook for Macs and iPads.


The post A New Man first appeared on AA Agnostica.

A New Man

Chapter 15:
Do Tell! Stories by Atheists and Agnostics in AA

David B.

Coming to: What happened? Where am I? Who am I? Most alcoholics are familiar with this feeling: an abyss of loss and then a desperate search for the events that led to this point. Sometimes there’s nothing, sometimes there’s a flash – of momentarily seeing, understanding something, but that disappears in a flash, too. And then sometimes – if you’re as determined as I’ve always been – you will chase the flash that might, eventually, lead you to your awakening, a new coming to; a reality where you can finally function without having to compromise your true self.

* * *

In December of 2004, I came to with several emergency technicians around me; there was noise: words, words, words… Maybe words? People yelling, at me, to me: trying to engage me in a conversation – asking me if I could hear them, if I knew where I was. My wife, there too, pleading with me to come out of it, come to.

Come to what? I felt confused.

What date, where was I, did I know what happened? The questions kept on, or maybe they were asked once and my brain was only getting to them now, after playing them on the loop. Words.

So I said some words back, answered some questions. I tried.

My body wasn’t cooperating either – it was sore; it was a body beat up from contracting, seizing, twitching. My tongue screamed with pain: I bit it, repeatedly, just moments ago.

A grand mal seizure.

Finally, there was clarity in the chaos – words coming together, aligning with their meaning. My wife’s eyes looking at me with relief. Vicki. I was coming to. Back to reality. Vicki could see that I would live.

A doctoral dissertation – “Experiences of Atheists and Agnostics in AA” – is based on the book Do Tell. For more information click on the above image.

And in four months, thanks to the seizure, I would question this life that I was coming to.

I lost my driver’s license. There were medical tests: Why did I have the seizure? I told the doctors about painkillers and drinking too much but that wasn’t it – although after my confession, I was prescribed Topamax, which creates monster hangovers. My anxiety was monstrous too. There were more medical tests. The doctors said I was possibly epileptic. They wanted to know where the seizure came from. It wasn’t the first one and as months went on, there was pressure to learn my medical history.

What complicated things was the fact that I was adopted. I had to find out more: it seemed my life depended on it.

And here’s what I found: Miss Bender, 56 years old, died in 1996 of alcoholism. My biological mother. My DNA, my medical history. (Me: “Baby Boy Bender” on the birth certificate – that last name, a grand irony or what?)

I couldn’t deal with it, with my genetics – like me drowning in Jack Daniels, that was yet another truth I didn’t want a part of. So I did what every addict does when confronted with reality: I put that information in a box – figuratively, literally – and the progression of my alcoholism went off the charts.

* * *

Nine-plus months later, picture this: a grown man bawling his eyes out in front of a room full of strangers.

My name is, I say – but everything – like these people, this room – remains unfamiliar for a moment. Even my name and who I am. And whatever happened in the past 24 hours is a blur of one tormented, interrupted sleep; flashbacks of my son and my wife bringing me clothes, other things… a fog of events, feelings of humiliation, too, as my body detoxed.

Then I was off to the treatment center; there was a five minutes-long assessment; more confusion – Who am I? Why am I here? – and I was thrown into this room. An AA meeting.

And now, in this room, bawling; all eyes on me – compassionate eyes, encouraging eyes of people who understand why I’m bawling -I finally choke it out: My name is David and I’m an alcoholic.

Instantly, I feel an immense relief: I know who I am. Only for a flash at this point, but it’s the first time I recognize something concrete about myself.

There’s shame too – for now, only the leftover shame any alcoholic feels; the shame that haunts and often makes sobriety seem like the worst idea ever because you’ll have to face it, the shame. But in this moment, saying the words, admitting who I am, the relief is bigger than the shame; the desire to stop drinking is genuine. It trumps the shame. The shame will come back – it will haunt me for years – but right now even the shame is only a shadow; it waits for me to finish coming to in this room full of strangers. They are bearing witness to a man dying and becoming a new man right before their eyes – the eyes who already know everything without knowing anything specific about me. What they know – everything – is that I am coming back to reality.

* * *

Every day, I am a new man. This has been a theme in my life. As a sober alcoholic, being a new man every day helps me keep in touch with the world around me: I must always be aware of my perception and how close it is to reality. The closer the better.

I am close today.

Wait. Let me check: yes, I am still here. Still sober.

Today, my perception is aligned with my reality.

* * *

You see, addicts have a problem with perception – this is not because we’re stupid; we’re just used to life that is based on manipulation, double-think, secrets – any thing to confirm our delusions. We’re used to not wanting to see things for how they are – we especially avoid the truth of our addiction. And even when we see it, our addiction, we are helpless against it: just because you know something is very wrong, it doesn’t mean you know how to treat it.

When we drink or use, we try to mold the world around us to suit the addiction – for example, I’ve spent years in my basement office, drinking and watching television. One show, Intervention, sticks in mind – the ridiculousness of it: me, an addict, watching other addicts. Me watching addicts drink themselves to death while drinking myself to death. It’s not that I thought that that was the right thing to do – sitting there and making myself die, slowly – it’s just that I did it because it suited me at the time. My perception wasn’t aligned with my reality. But it allowed me to avoid everything that was happening outside of the basement. Like the world that was happening upstairs, the real world.

Upstairs, outside the basement, there was my daughter and son, and my wife.

Upstairs, there I was: a successful businessman.

Upstairs, there I was: a social guy with an ability to draw people. There was a beautiful lake and a lifestyle that was fun and full of adventure.

But then look back in to the basement: there I was, too, drinking. Alone. There I was: a man who self-imprisoned with all kinds of alcohol and a cooler full of ice, no food, in the same basement; a three-day-long bender. (Coming to with my face planted in my keyboard: Where am I? Did anyone see me like this?

My son did. He saw me passed out and he called my wife. I found out later he thought I was dead; my wife told him to spend the night at a friend’s place.)

But I made it all work – no, it didn’t work at all.

It was my perception that deceived me – my perception was warped; it allowed all of that to co-exist, however dysfunctional.

There was something else there the whole time: that box with a secret. The box where I knew something about myself but wasn’t sure how to deal with. My mother, how she died, how she… relinquished me. Another twist in this tale of who I was or wasn’t.

* * *

The definition of perception is three things: “The way you think about or understand someone or something; the ability to understand or notice something easily; the way that you notice or understand something using one of your senses.” Was I doomed? Perhaps. Because how could I ever have the right perception of the guy I was if, at the age of 44, after the seizure, I learned I was somebody else entirely?

The facts: my biological mother died of alcoholism. I drank constantly.

There was no coming out of darkness without facing it – all of it – properly. But you can’t face anything when you can’t think or understand, or even use your senses. When your perception is a deformity.

And even today, sober, that guy is a part of me, or rather that story is a part of me, like my mysterious DNA – and this is why I check in with reality all the time. This is why I question my perception. I must. I am not living in a delusion of addiction any more but it’s easy to slip into it.

For an alcoholic, it takes a second – or not even a second, a millisecond – to lose the reality of addiction. Since 2005, I haven’t had a relapse but I’ve heard and read about them enough to be aware of them.

For now, I’m David and I’m an alcoholic. And I just have to remember that I am that man, a new man. Every day.

* * *

I don’t just mean this metaphorically since as an adoptee and an alcoholic, I come by my newness honestly. I’ve led the kind of split existence that can only be dealt with by ignoring it, numbing what I knew, and didn’t know. I refer to myself as a relinquishee – rejected by his birth parents but also having to adapt to the reality of my adopted family. Because of this, I’ve always had problems with attachment and reaching out to people… my sense of rejection shadowed my whole life. So I drank over that too. Alcohol silenced the war that was going on in my head – me against myself; the adoptee versus the adopted.

* * *

Sobriety was the number-one place where I felt at home. After that first meeting, I sat in dozens of group sessions at the rehab facility, still full of skepticism, fear, confusion. The shame was sneaking its way back, but for now I immersed myself in my recovery. In the sessions, I watched the people I dubbed COINS: Commuity of Individuals Needing Support – people who needed the same support I did. They were like coins because there were so many of them: they came from NA, AA, Marijuana Anonymous… There were also volunteers and professionals who talked about relapse prevention strategies, disease of addiction – finally, spirituality. I didn’t always understand what was being taught but I was determined: I had to adapt to survive. And I knew two things; One: If these people are wrong I will never trust anyone ever, again, and Two: If they’re wrong, I’m dead.

I secured a mentor, a sponsor who right after I graduated from rehab said, You’re not going home to sleep in your own bed – you are going to an AA meeting. And that’s where I went.

* * *

It was where I stayed: 450 meetings in the first 365 days of my sobriety. I read every bit of AA-approved literature I could put my hands on; then I read some things mentioned in the Big Book such as The Varieties of Religious Experiences by William James.

I sold my house on the lake to change my former lifestyle – full of drinking buddies, well-meaning neighbors who greeted me from rehab with a welcome basket, a 1.75 liter bottle of Jack Daniels perched on top – and I attended conferences, readings… I went back to the same rehab facility six months into sobriety to passionately talk about my new life.

And I lived happily ever after.

* * *

No I didn’t. I tried. Very hard. What was standing in my way was Shame, again. And now I was finding it in the rooms of AA!

I kept finding it because I was missing something – a crucial thing, specifically god. I kept hearing, Let go and let God. I was told I was too self-centered; I wasn’t able to turn my life over to my (?) Higher Power; I had to set aside my pride and my ego; make room for this god who kept evading me.

God. Where was she?

I looked for her, for god, everywhere as the shame of not being able to find her, of not fitting in, again, was getting bigger and bigger. I tried to immerse myself, to come to a spiritual experience that included god.

So I read about god. I talked about god to rabbis and pastors, and during lunches, I sat in a beautiful St. Andrew’s church near my workplace, waiting for god to appear. I prayed day and night… but to what?

I suppose I was praying to lure her out, make her appear like a genie from a bottle. And speaking of bottles – my fear was that I was going to go back to it, the bottle, if I didn’t find this god.

This went on for eight, grueling, shame-filled years.

Sit back. Relax. God will get in touch with you. God exists: after all, God graced you with sobriety.

It made no sense to me. I was getting hopeless.

My perception was getting blurred.

* * *

Except there was hope. There was a new coming to.

I had a specific tool and it was the same one as always: immersing myself in something and this time it was going on a quest but a completely opposite one of the one I had been on. Because, I thought, surely, there are others like me out there? Just like there were other relinquishees in the world, there must be others in the program who also couldn’t make sense out of the god part.

There were. Lots of them.

First in books.

Appendix II in Alcoholics Anonymous
Beyond Belief: Agnostic Musings for 12 Step Life
The Little Book: A Collection of Alternative 12 Steps
Don’t Tell: Stories and Essays by Agnostics and Atheists in AA
An Atheist’s Unofficial Guide to AA – For Newcomers
Waiting: A Nonbeliever’s Higher Power
The Five Keys: 12 Step Recovery Without A God

Then in on-line chat rooms and blogs, and so I immersed myself yet again, this time into a like-minded community within the program that made me come to originally.

* * *

Essentially, the story of my life are genetic clues, a series of coming-tos, adapting to a recovery program where I didn’t quite fit in and then, finally, coming to my senses, my feelings and my values.

I realized I needed to conduct myself in alliance with who I truly was instead of adapting and using all of my energy – the energy that was needed in my life outside of recovery, my family, my career – to try to fit in. This new, agnostic reality was perfectly aligned with mine – this reality gave me permission to finally find my true place in the world.

It was in the rooms of agnostic AA where I became the new man that I am now – a man who’s a whole bunch of parts and contradictions but who is also whole, most true to himself and his reality.

Coming to: a new man.


Do Tell! [Front Cover]This is a chapter from the book: Do Tell! Stories by Atheists and Agnostics in AA.

The paperback version of Do Tell! is available at Amazon. It is also available via Amazon in Canada and the United Kingdom.

It can be purchased online in all eBook formats, including Kindle, Kobo and Nook and as an iBook for Macs and iPads.


The post A New Man first appeared on AA Agnostica.

Songs about Recovery

By Roger C

The road to recovery can be rough. The detox, the rehab… Even without those, the first few weeks and months without alcohol or drugs can be a challenge. But…

Life in recovery is often inspiring. Over time we discover how to live a good life, and to do that one day at a time. Who would have thought?

Today we have five inspiring songs, all about living in recovery, and what it’s all about. Enjoy!


I Can See Clearly Now

Johnny Nash wrote and produced this song for his 1972 album of the same name. The song is about hope and courage for people who have experienced adversity in their lives, but have later overcome it. ‘I Can See Clearly Now’ reached number one in America, selling over a million copies. “It’s going to be a bright sunshiny day.” You will hear more about the sun in another one of today’s songs.

Here’s the song on YouTube and here are the lyrics.

I can see clearly now the rain is gone.
I can see all obstacles in my way.
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind.
It’s gonna be a bright (bright)
Bright (bright) sunshiny day.
It’s gonna be a bright (bright)
Bright (bright) sunshiny day.

Oh, yes I can make it now the pain is gone.
All of the bad feelings have disappeared.


Let It Be

Well, the Beatles. I was one of 73 million people who saw the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan show on February 9, 1964. Beginning two years earlier, they released over 300 songs and one of my favorites – something I understand in recovery – is “Let It Be”, released in 1970. This is a song that connects very well with the Serenity Wish (otherwise known as a prayer), often shared at AA meetings.

Paul McCartney wrote the song. Guilty of extreme substance abuse at the time, he had a dream in which his mother – her name was Mary and she had died ten years earlier – told him to “let it be”. Here are the lyrics and you can watch and listen to the song on YouTube. Whisper words of wisdom, my friends:

And when the night is cloudy there is still a light that shines on me
Shinin’ until tomorrow, let it be
I wake up to the sound of music, Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be

And let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be


Just for Today

My long time friend, Nina, also a member of our “We Agnostics” AA group in Hamilton, has written a song about her life in recovery. Sung by Nina with the harmonies by her daughter, you can listen to Just for Today and, if you wish, you can read and download the lyrics.

Just for today I’ll do everything right
Hold onto the bright side with all of my might
If this is the last day I spend with you
Then let it be joyful, authentic and true

Just for today I’ll be happy and bright
Just for today I’ll let go of the fight
Just for today I’ll love all that I am
Just for today I won’t give a damn
Just for today I won’t give a damn


One Day at a Time

This song is about Joe Walsh’s recovery from heavy alcohol and cocaine addictions. As Joe put it “I got sober. It was not easy, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, and I had to stop and learn how to do everything over again sober”. He then had “a wonderful life,” as he put. This song was released in 2012 and you can listen to it on YouTube and here are the lyrics for “One Day at a Time”.

Well I finally got around to admit that I might have a problem
But I thought it was just too damn big of a mountain to climb
Well I got down on my knees and said hey
I just cant go on livin’ this way
Guess I have to learn to live my life one day at a time

Oh yeah, one day at a time
Oh yeah, one day at a time


Here Comes the Sun

Another Beatles song, this one written by George Harrison and, as part of the Abbey Road album, was released in 1969. As someone put it, “To me Here Comes the Sun is a good metaphor to forget the dark, cold past, and bask in the new warm sunlight, because good is on its way…” Well said.  Here are the lyrics and here it is on YouTube.

Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces
Little darling, it feels like years since it’s been here

Here comes the sun do, do, do
Here comes the sun
And I say it’s all right

Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting
Little darling, it seems like years since it’s been clear


 

The post Songs about Recovery first appeared on AA Agnostica.

6 Ways to Create Meaning in Your Life

Published on The Fix

What makes life meaningful?

Knowing the answer can make a big difference in your personal fulfillment. At Sunshine Coast Health Centre in British Columbia, program director Geoff Thompson and his team regularly help clients discover and develop a meaningful life.

Despite that, Thompson doesn’t have any easy explanation for what makes life meaningful.

“A meaningful life is a personally meaningful life,” he says. “Regardless of wealth, education, fame, power, etc., if a person does not feel their life is meaningful, then it isn’t.”

It can be easy to overthink whether or not your life has meaning. But if you find yourself questioning whether you have a meaningful life or not, chances are you have some work to do.

“It’s interesting that those who are contented in life don’t really think about living a meaningful life,” Thompson says. “In fact, if questions of meaning come to the fore, it’s a guarantee that the wheels have come off.”

No one but you can decide what makes your life meaningful. However, there are some things to consider as you think about creating a more meaningful life.

Recognize that Happiness Isn’t Enough

It’s common to think that a meaningful life is one full of happiness. However, that’s not always the case, says Thompson. We’ve all heard of people who have everything they thought they wanted — the perfect job, home, spouse, etc. — but who were not content. On the other hand, we’ve heard stories of people who have given it all up to pursue a passion and found meaning and richness of life along the way. So, it’s safe to say there’s more to a meaningful life than just happiness.

Embrace Life, with Good and Bad

Happiness isn’t the key ingredient to meaning, and to find a meaningful life you also need to accept that life comes with good times and bad, Thompson says.

“The problem with the ‘happiness’ approach is that those who pursue happiness are doomed,” he says. “Suffering is a natural part of life, so they will always fail.”

Some people find meaning through their suffering — including people who have navigated the difficulties or drug or alcohol addiction. It can be worth exploring what your suffering has contributed to your life — the lessons it has taught or the people it has brought in — and reflecting on how those things have increased meaningfulness.

Accept Reality

For many people, life is harsh. This can be particularly true coming out of the chaos of addiction and the traumas that might have contributed to your drug or alcohol misuse. But in order to find meaning, you must accept life, just as it is, Thompson says.

“A person who desires a meaningful life must first accept reality, no matter how bleak,” he says.

This means no excuses — you can’t say your childhood trauma caused your addiction, or that you only have a record because the criminal justice system was out to get you. Instead, you need to accept reality and make sense of the world around you.

Know Yourself

A meaningful life is incredibly personal. To know what is meaningful to you, you must have a sound sense of self. That means defining the values, principles and beliefs that will guide you throughout life.

“Those who live meaningfully understand what is important to them: their values, their beliefs, strengths, limitations, desires and wants,” Thompson says.

Once you understand these things, you can create goals based on these criteria.

Build Relationships

Almost everyone finds meaning in quality, authentic connections with others. Fostering healthy relationships — and getting rid of those that are no longer healthy — can contribute to the meaning in your life.

“Those who live meaningful lives develop positive, authentic connections with others,” Thompson says.

Diversify

The people who have the most fulfillment in life find meaning from various sources, Thompson says.

“A contented person needs several sources of meaning to live a meaningful life: work, family, community, etc,” he says.

If you just have one or two of those, you might find your sense of a meaningful life lacking.

“Many clients find meaning only in one area of their life,” Thompson says. “In this case—all eggs in one or two baskets—we would say the person is not living a personally meaningful life.”

Finding fulfillment from different areas can ensure that you maintain a rich and meaningful existence.


Sunshine Coast Health Centre is a non 12-step drug and alcohol rehabilitation center in British Columbia. The Fix staff consists of the editor-in-chief and publisher, a senior editor, an associate editor, an editorial coordinator, and several contributing editors and writers. Articles in Professional Voices, Ask an Expert, and similar sections are written by doctors, psychologists, clinicians, professors and other experts from universities, hospitals, government agencies and elsewhere. For contact and other info, please visit our About Us page.


 

The post 6 Ways to Create Meaning in Your Life first appeared on AA Agnostica.

My Diluted Emotions

Chapter 14:
Do Tell! Stories by Atheists and Agnostics in AA

Deirdre S.

I drank for twenty years. Too many times I drank past my tolerance level and woke up shivering on some bathroom floor. When I picked up my first beer of the night, I rarely knew how or where I’d end up. In the mornings, I often felt like someone had slipped me poison. Of course that mysterious “someone” was me.

My last and final drunk wasn’t my last and final drink. After a terrible night, wasted, stumbling, and trying to find my way home only five short blocks from my apartment, I knew I couldn’t go one more round with alcohol. Stopping completely seemed too final. I decided that I needed to lay off for a few months. I drank a couple of beers here and there while I contemplated the right time to begin my R and R (resisting and rehydration). Finally an acquaintance suggested acupuncture. Initially this worked; I went ten days without a drink, for me a long interval. But I found, underneath all the drinking, that I had a lot of un-dealt-with emotions I’d been diluting.

A sober friend urged me to go to an AA meeting. During the twenty years that I’d been drinking I had come in contact with the 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous. Each time I read them the word God loomed high. I’ve been an atheist since I was twelve. I never had the need or desire to have a divine being in my life. When I said to my sober friend that I couldn’t go to AA she said that she was also an atheist, but found what she needed to stay sober were meetings and the fellowship.

A doctoral dissertation – “Experiences of Atheists and Agnostics in AA” – is based on the book Do Tell. For more information click on the above image.

At my first meeting I stayed quiet. During a discussion about Step One a big Irish guy, former bartender, said that the step had nothing to do with God. He boiled down the program to: Don’t drink; Go to meetings; and Help another alcoholic. Keep it simple he said. Relief swept over me. I could take what I heard in meetings, identify with the stories, and stay sober.

However, I still needed something more to maintain long-term sobriety. I needed the fellowship and the experience, strength, and hope of others. I needed to find a meeting where I could let those emotions I’d been drowning come out and be aired.

About six months into my sobriety, I found a meeting that catered to agnostics, atheists, and freethinkers as well as anyone else who needed a giant dose of AA. In that meeting I found people who had decades of sobriety who never prayed a day in their lives. I met people who tried all the suggestions of well-meaning AAs, but they still found that praying did not feel like rigorous honesty – no matter how hard they tried. When they surrendered to the idea that they couldn’t drink safely, they accepted their powerlessness over alcohol. These sober people were members of AA, no better or worse than people who believed in God.

Everyone, it seems, has their own definition of spirituality and that confuses me. But after I stopped the intake of the depressant alcohol, I felt better. I got my “joy of life” back. That’s as close as I come to having a spiritual experience and I’m thrilled to discover that the booze-induced cloud of lousy feelings vanished. Even the streets of New York City looked brighter. My grumpy attitude transformed and my co-workers saw the difference in the clearness of my eyes.

I look to my fellows every time I get an urge to drink. If I find myself in a situation where I can’t call one of them for support, I imagine their healthy sober faces. I learned that I can leave parties and other social situations if I feel uncomfortable about the drinking. I shared lots of coffee with people I met at these meetings. Slowly they became my friends. I found a sponsor and did the steps with her. Some parts of AA literature we liked, other parts we couldn’t identify with. But we’ve both found what we needed for long-term sobriety in meetings and fellowship.

I’ve been sober for eighteen years now. I’m happy with the profound changes I made. My life is bigger than I ever imagined. I’m glad the hand of AA was there for me when I needed it. I’m also glad that I found a home meeting where people have accepted me as I am, encouraged me to grow, and demanded that I remain true to my better self.


Do Tell! [Front Cover]This is a chapter from the book: Do Tell! Stories by Atheists and Agnostics in AA.

The paperback version of Do Tell! is available at Amazon. It is also available via Amazon in Canada and the United Kingdom.

It can be purchased online in all eBook formats, including Kindle, Kobo and Nook and as an iBook for Macs and iPads.


The post My Diluted Emotions first appeared on AA Agnostica.

Sticking With It

By Stephanie S.

I was not a “one hit wonder”, the term used for those who stop drinking after their first AA meeting. My road to recovery was more aptly summed up by the expression, “If at first you don’t succeed, try try again”.

My drinking became problematic only in my late 40’s. Up until then, I loved alcohol, but hadn’t crossed that line from wanting a drink to needing a drink, which to me is the definition of addiction. So, it took me a while to realize I NEEDED to drink every evening. I couldn’t imagine ending my work day without that magical potion to lighten my mood, lessen my irritability, and allow me to walk through the door of my home with a smile on my face and not feel that making dinner was burdensome or that the world was coming to an end if my kids left their dishes in the sink. I couldn’t imagine any social event, celebration, or vacation without it. It insidiously became my go to when feeling bored, frustrated, angry, tired, unmotivated, happy, relaxed. Just about everything.

After a while though, other effects became more apparent. I would be more impulsive, saying things I would have censored when sober, overreacting, sending off unedited, rambling emails, forgetting conversations I had the night before. I had trouble sleeping, felt tired most days, increasingly anxious.

That was bad, but the worst part was when I started trying to stop. It was the rare occasion that I appeared noticeably intoxicated, so my kids and my friends never picked up on it. Only my husband did and he was getting increasingly concerned. When I very reluctantly started going to AA meetings, I told my family and friends of my problem. No one seemed shocked. Everyone was supportive. Instead of the disappointment I was expecting, I received praise for facing my problem. It was a huge relief. But, when it turned out that I wasn’t able to stay sober for more than a few weeks or months at a time, I found myself drinking secretively. I could no longer drink in front of the people I had told.

The hiding and lying that resulted, became as much of a problem as the drinking. I had never known this part of myself or imagined I could behave this way. It created a split in my mind. It was as if their were two TV channels – the AM channel that announced emphatically every morning that I was no longer going to drink, and the PM channel that said equally emphatically-screw it, go ahead! I felt out of control and increasingly disconnected from myself. Every day, the same 2 channels would come on the air, and never at the same time. It was crazy making.

Only after many, many attempts to stop did something finally click. Now, each time I thought of drinking, I was able to access the voice that said, “Who are you kidding? You can’t just have one! And, not only that, the moment you do, you will fall into the same quicksand you have fallen into each time you thought you could. And, remember how hard it is to come out.” Only after many, many attempts to stop did it click that it was no longer worth it.

The experience of having piece of mind, clarity of mind, room to think about other things now that the constant obsessing was gone, being unburdened by the shame that comes with lying and hiding-it all felt so wonderful! To think of jeopardizing this no longer made sobriety all about willpower and deprivation. Instead, it felt like a precious gift I never wanted to lose.

A number of years ago, I wrote a song about my road to recovery. My voice and piano playing are not robust, so I asked my son who is an aspiring hip hop producer to sing it and embellish the music a bit. He said he would, but being busy with his own projects and not feeling comfortable singing outside of his genre, it never happened. Last month was my birthday, and his gift to me was his making of my song. It was another precious gift.

Here are the lyrics and the song, Until You Try:

Secular NA – Connecting Globally Amid a World in Crisis

by Michael E

I am an addict, 71 years old and a little over 5 years clean. I am clean because of the Narcotics Anonymous program, and I am so very grateful for the NA program as well as AA and the other 12-step programs that help those suffering from various addictions. If I follow the program, I will not use – one day at a time.

We all agree that this past year has been horrific. I mourn the lives lost, the families torn apart, and the suffering that has touched us all in one form or another. The pandemic itself as well as the lockdowns and other efforts to get it under control have created huge challenges for everyone – including those of us in 12-step recovery programs.

As I write this in February 2021, there are still very few in-person, physical NA, AA, or other 12-step meetings. And that’s been difficult for many. But, we persevered. We adapted because staying clean is paramount to our lives and well-being. We found other means to connect – via telephone, text messaging, social media, socially-distant outdoor meetings, and especially through online, virtual meetings hosted on Zoom or other platforms.

This last alternative – video-based, online meetings – has not only allowed us to survive, it has enabled some communities to thrive, to connect and expand in ways we never thought possible. In particular, I am talking about my community – the secular, non-religious, Narcotics Anonymous community. Let me explain.

I am an atheist. I am very comfortable in my atheism. I’m not agnostic or troubled, and I don’t think about my atheism a lot except that since I accept that this is the only conscious life I will have as me, it’s precious. As an atheist, I appreciate every day, and that resonates so well with the “one day at a time” philosophy of NA and other programs.

While I am content in my atheism, I understand that others may feel differently. I can respect that – as long as they don’t try to push their beliefs on me or others or disparage those who think or practice differently than they do. But, that’s often the problem, isn’t it? Many so-called “believers” – especially those who subscribe to a well-defined religion – also believe that it is their responsibility and right to “save” me. This I find unacceptable.

Like many others, it was tough for me when I entered the rooms. Religious thinking and language – not just spirituality – pervades the 12-steps, the program, the literature and the meetings. My very first meeting was AA, and they started with the Serenity Prayer (which I love – except for the god part) and ended with the Lord’s Prayer (which I don’t know).

I moved on to NA because of this and also because my problem was more than just alcohol. I needed to identify as an addict. The groups, the 12-steps, and the program all resonated with my need to  do something drastic about my addictions, so I kept my beliefs to myself, interpreted and reworded the steps and readings as necessary, and got clean. After a few months, I did speak up at a rather large meeting about my atheistic approach to the program and how secular recovery was working for me. After I finished, there was a long silent pause, and I felt as if the entire group kind of moved back away from me. It was awkward to say the least.

I’m from the Seattle area, but I first got clean while in Florida. When I returned home after 3 months, I started going to meetings in Seattle. It was generally good, but I didn’t talk about my atheism when I shared. Then I heard about these folks who were meeting to talk about non-religious recovery. This wasn’t a typical 12-step meeting – it was a meeting talking about 12 step programs without the “G” word or “G” ideas or a religious higher power. WOW! This was for me.

These meetings (secular AA meetings) were a great experience – intellectually and emotionally and I soon discovered that there were plenty of them but very few (if any) Secular NA meetings.  There were none in our region so we decided to start one – Beyond Belief, Seattle-Everett, Washington. We did get some push-back at first from other NA members and groups – the usual, “you can’t get clean if you don’t believe in a higher power,” and we did have some difficulties in finding a place to hold our meetings. But, that only made us stronger and more determined to show that secular recovery is real, and for many of us, preferable.

That was about 5 years ago, and today we have a healthy but relatively small core membership. The group members are very enthusiastic in our meetings and we have a wide range of clean time – from days or months to over 30 years.  In 1989 World Services of NA commissioned an ad hoc committee to look into Special Interest Meetings (Bulletin 18). They reported that

Special Interest meetings have existed in Narcotics Anonymous for some time. There does not appear to be anything in the Twelve Traditions which cautions groups against holding special interest meetings, provided that the group has no requirement for membership other than the desire to stop using. Special interest meetings tend to survive and flourish in local NA communities where there is a need and desire for such meetings and do not exist in NA communities where there is no need nor desire.

In our meetings, we do some of the NA readings – but only the ones that do NOT mention god or a higher power: Who is an Addict, What is the NA Program, Why Are We Here, A Journey, We Do Recover. We emphasize that we are first and foremost an NA meeting, so anyone is welcome regardless of their beliefs or lack of beliefs.  We do make a special effort to make those who identify as religious to feel comfortable in our meetings. For a long time we were pleased to be one of a handful of secular meetings in Narcotics Anonymous (that we knew of).

And then Covid hit.

There are now – in part because of the pandemic – secular NA groups worldwide, in France, Australia, Russia, Holland, the United Kingdom and the United States. For information about their zoom meetings, click on the above image to visit the Secular NA website.

In March 2020, our meeting venue was required to close – and has remained closed for almost a year now. We had only one alternative to not shutting down: to go virtual. So, we quickly started meeting via Zoom. And then the magic happened – we started getting more attendees – from widespread geographic areas – Baton Rouge, Toronto, California, Maryland, Florida, Arizona, Colorado! And Melbourne, Australia – where there was a group just like ours – using the same name, “Beyond Belief.” It was like finding our long-lost family. Many of these people became regulars at our meetings, and we became regulars at theirs – in spite of the time differences. We now regularly get 15-30 attendees at meetings that used to attract half that number. And the energy is electric.

Many of our members have said – “there’s something special and energizing about these secular NA meetings.” We may be separated by many thousands of miles, but we are together in recovery. There are strong feelings of community and friendship among the group. And during sharing, many – MANY – express their appreciation of finally finding and being part of a secular recovery meeting where they can express their disbelief without risking judgement or negative feedback. Also, our diverse group of attendees span the full range of clean time – from less than a week to well over 30 years.

Everything isn’t perfect, of course. A few of the home group members don’t care for this online format, but we try to stay in touch using other means. And sometimes there are technical difficulties with bandwidth or Zoom itself. But the benefits far outweigh the limitations – so much so that we are committed to continuing the Zoom/online presence when we return to face-to-face meetings. Our new, global brothers and sisters are just too important to not have them at every meeting. We’ll figure out a way to make it as seamless as possible.

There are already a number of new developments from our connecting the secular NA community globally. We – the Beyond Belief groups in Seattle-Everett and Melbourne, Australia jointly launched a new virtual-only meeting – Beyond Belief International. This group meets at 9pmEST/6pm PST on Saturday in the US and 1pm EADT in Australia. And a new meeting was launched in Greeley, Colorado in early February. The first meeting had over 20 attendees.  There are weekly meetings in based in Paris (French speaking), Amsterdam, London, Melbourne and the Seattle, Santa Cruz and Creeley in the USA.

We are also starting to organize more as a global community and have launched a very basic new website, Secular NA, that seeks to provide accurate up-to-date information about secular NA meetings worldwide as well as resources. There is also an active Facebook group, The Secular NA Coffee Shop, which was created in 2016 by members in the UK and Australia.

We are excited about the future of non-religious, Secular Narcotics Anonymous. We appreciate very much the model, encouragement, and support of the secular AA community, and we look forward to mutually-helpful collaboration and coordination in the future.

Stay safe, healthy, and clean.


Michael E is a grateful, recovering addict. He is a member of the Beyond Belief Seattle-Everett NA group and trusted servant/secretary of the Beyond Belief International NA group. He is an official “old guy” in years, but a “pup” in recovery time with just a little over 5 years clean.


 

The post Secular NA – Connecting Globally Amid a World in Crisis first appeared on AA Agnostica.

Many Paths – Fredericton, New Brunswick       

By Tyler M.
Many Paths Member

Many Paths is the first secular AA meeting to be established in Fredericton, New Brunswick, Canada, and at its founding in September 2019, was the only secular meeting in the large Area 81 encompassing the eastern Canadian provinces of New Brunswick and Prince Edward Island – nearly a million people.

Our meetings began in-person on Sunday nights at the Unitarian Fellowship of Fredericton, and our hosts have been very welcoming and helpful in our mission to help alcoholics, with a particular focus on supporting atheist and agnostic members. Our meeting format generally consists of a few standard readings, followed by a topic reading chosen by the chair to serve as a focus for sharing by those attending. These are brief, specifically the AA Preamble, a Bill W. “Responsibility is our theme” quote, a statement about sponsorship, and “safety and respect” in our meeting. These readings, presented by volunteers each night, set a tone in the meeting focusing low on dogma and high on mutual respect and inclusion; importantly, they are brief in order to maximize time for the evening’s topic and sharing of attendees. Typically, the chair-chosen topic readings are taken from secular-recovery type literature such as Joe C.’s great daily reader Beyond Belief: Agnostic Musings for Twelve Step Life, other non-AA canon sources, as well as occasional use of Grapevine articles if they are highlighting a particularly practical approach to recovery with limited mystical or religious overtones.

We also have a special “step study” topic the first Sunday of each month, currently using the 12-step text “Staying Sober Without God” by Jeffrey Munn. A central guiding principle in our literature and topic selections is to describe practical resources for recovery, relapse prevention and dealing with life’s issues while staying sober. Our group and meetings do not impose any belief or lack of belief on attendees, the group as a whole takes a strictly neutral stance in terms of spirituality or religious beliefs. Our meetings, however, enjoy the participation of individuals of a wide range of beliefs and valued perspectives.

The founding of Many Paths

The Many Paths group was conceived in the spring of 2019 by two Fredericton AA members who recognized the need to have a local meeting with minimal religiosity, which could foster the recovery of alcoholics who had greater-than-average difficulties with “the god bit” prevalent in most other local AA meetings, and offer fresh and different perspectives on recovery to others in AA. The Fredericton area has a strong and lengthy presence of traditional AA, with structured and predictable meetings easily available through the week, which greatly aids with the recovery of a wide swath of the local population. However, in this somewhat conservative and traditional area, most of our meetings open with lengthy, prescriptive and god-heavy readings such as “Chapter 5: How It Works” and most close with the Lord’s Prayer.

In this environment, our organizing of a secular group was initially met with interest and encouragement by a few, a mix of confusion or incredulity about the need for it by others, anxieties about whether it “was real AA” from many, and even some scattered hostilities with dueling “12 Traditions” battles waged mostly in private Facebook groups. The greatest problem distilled was: it was new, different and our District had nearly no knowledge of secular type AA meetings and groups. Our approach, therefore, was to thoroughly research the experience of other secular AA groups, and the websites aaagnostica.org and aabeyondbelief.org, and related podcasts and Facebook groups became indispensable resources.

Additionally, two of the founding group members took a “fact-finding” mission to attend a meeting of the We Agnostics meeting of Halifax, Nova Scotia (neighboring Area 82) and to meet with group members to discuss their founding experiences. Two planning meetings were held in the Summer of 2019 in Fredericton, with invited members of the local AA District and anyone else interested. During this research and planning stage, several other local members joined our effort, ultimately leading to six committed group founders. The founders chose the name “Many Paths” for the group, in recognition of the many ways an individual may find their way toward recovery in sobriety, and in a nod to the Many Paths to Spirituality AA pamphlet.

The online resources, help from other secular members in the region, and open planning meetings with local AA members allowed us to design a meeting that would help underserved AA members in our community, respect AA traditions, and answer any lingering questions of our legitimacy among our local AA. Critically important was our involvement and openness with District representatives and other local AA groups. Our first meeting was thus held – on schedule – on September 8th 2019, in the open and without interference by other local groups or the District.

While our group was tolerated at this point, true acceptance and inclusion still required some challenges to be overcome. Chief among these was that before our group would be allowed on the local meeting list, voting participation in District and recognized service commitments, we were required to be “officially recognized” by GSO. We completed the relevant paperwork for GSO New Group Registration, and on receiving our official group number from New York – and to the great credit of our local District members – we were then listed and given a seat at District without delay. We also successfully advocated for the addition of a new meeting type designation “SE” for secular on our local meeting list. Immediately and consistently since, our group has been very active in local service activities such as hosting special holiday meetings and Roundup conference marathons, as well as District governance activities and financial support.

COVID-19

In our group, District and AA as a whole, the sudden arrival of COVID-19 caused a major upheaval. Many Paths had been meeting routinely for 6 months when our final carefully distanced in-person meeting occurred on March 15th 2020, and the last AA meeting in our District followed the next day. Because of the experience of other secular AA groups in using online Zoom meetings from long before pandemic times, it encouraged us to quickly take up the technology. Along with another cooperative group in the District, we were the first up and running with ad hoc daily meetings on Zoom, and a few local groups starting back over a few weeks into “regular online” meetings; Many Paths itself did not miss a single weekly meeting in the transition.

Our group members, among others, were very helpful in supporting and teaching other groups how to migrate online. This crisis management, “one-day-at-a-time” and “whatever-it-takes” attitude to help get our local AA back online gained our group considerable visibility and respect locally, and our attendance quickly and consistently doubled with many new local members, and some growing number of distant visitors.

Early during the pandemic, we recognized that there were a significant number of members in Atlantic Canada that had no local access to secular AA meetings and were very keen to participate in them and be of service to help run them. Many Paths, and members from the two active online secular groups in Nova Scotia (We Agnostics and The Only Requirement groups of Area 82), and several of these “at large” members scattered across the more rural parts of the provinces thus came together virtually and launched East Coast Secular in July 2020.

This is a loosely organized group that is wholly online, with many of its founding members never having met in person. By design, it will remain online regardless of the inevitable easing of pandemic restrictions, to serve the widely scattered members in need of secular AA meetings not available locally. It meets every Tuesday evening on Zoom, and has somewhat outgrown its Atlantic Canada beginnings. At least half the weekly attendees typically come from outside the region geographically, with active group members serving from as far away as New York.

Because Many Paths and East Coast Secular are among the few secular meetings in Atlantic Canada, we frequently advertise our meeting not only on local meeting lists, but also on international lists and private Facebook groups, which generate a significant number of visitors to our meetings.

The future of Many Paths?

Many Paths as a group has grown stronger, larger and more diverse due to the pressures and opportunities imposed by the COVID-19 pandemic, though some of the founding members have drifted away from attending the online meeting. The pandemic threat has ebbed and flowed in the past year in Fredericton, with many groups returning to in-person, with restrictions and occasional re-closures.

However, Many Paths has remained online throughout, without a missed meeting. It is run by a dedicated core group of members from the Fredericton area, and since going online, attracting a valued group member living in a different country but active at every meeting. Attendees range from 24-hours sober to 40+ years, with regulars from across Canada and USA, and frequent repeat guests from as far as Europe and Australia.

Currently, we vote quarterly whether to remain online with Zoom, though there is a strong sense among members that we may remain as an online meeting long after COVID has passed; our sister meeting East Coast Secular, by founding mission, will remain online indefinitely. It has been our experience that we best serve our members this way, and our responsibility is to try to best serve those members and those reaching out. As a group we try to keep true to the Responsibility Statement that closes our meetings.


Tyler M. came to his first AA meeting in February 2014 and found there people that would save his life. But being a life-long atheist and active member of AA caused him increasing pain and difficulty for several years, with enormous mental friction between his core beliefs and traditional approaches to recovery in AA. This was overcome with the help of service, fellowship and secular program resources now so widely available. Tyler currently holds a service position in District 5, Area 81 and is an active group member of the Many Paths, East Coast Secular and Canberra Freethinkers groups. Tyler lives sober and content (and still a skeptical stubborn atheist), helping with his partner to raise two boys, three girls and a granddaughter from his home in Fredericton.

For more information about the Many Path’s group experience, or details on how to attend its weekly online meeting, please send an email to [email protected].


 

The post Many Paths – Fredericton, New Brunswick        first appeared on AA Agnostica.

Five Years Old and Growing Stronger

Originally published in Our Primary Purpose,
the newsletter of the Ottawa Area Intergroup

Covid-19 helps Ottawa’s secular sobriety movement

Little did Michel D know when he started Ottawa’s first secular AA group, in early March 2016, that five years later there would be three weekly secular meetings on the calendar. And that a global pandemic might be helping to encourage both newcomers and old-timers alike to try a new and different Alcoholics Anonymous experience.

When Covid-19 shuttered doors to the rooms of AA, members started going online. And some have decided to take advantage of the opportunity to explore new approaches like secularism.

What is Secular AA? It’s a movement that seeks to widen our view so that all who suffer may discover long-term sobriety in AA regardless of their belief or lack of belief in a God.

“I already had 30 years of sobriety when I started that first secular meeting and it was still scary to go against the flow, and to try doing something outside the AA mainstream,” said Michel.

But as Ottawa’s secular movement celebrates it’s 5th anniversary, Michel can take pride in the idea that he and others are truly part of a growing global effort pushing AA to become an ever more inclusive fellowship, one that welcomes the suffering alcoholic no matter what their religious affiliation or belief system might be.

“With over 500 (secular) fellowships world-wide using the 12 Steps as a framework for recovery, there’s no denying the impact that AA founders Bill W and Dr. Bob have already had. And just as these far-reaching fellowships have reinterpreted the 12 Steps, AA must continue to do the same if it’s going to survive and stay relevant,” said Michel.

Like other so-called “special purpose groups” under the AA umbrella, secularism can be, for some, a polarizing notion, pitting believer against non-believer. But it doesn’t have to be that way.

“Our goal here in Ottawa is to be as open-minded as possible, so that anyone, no matter how they approach their sobriety, can feel at home in our midst. Our secular credo gives everyone the ability to freely express themselves, while asking that they offer the same courtesy to others in the discussion,” said Michel.

Andy Mc had almost 40 years of sobriety when he discovered Secular AA, and he’s convinced the pandemic played a role in opening the door to a whole new chapter of his recovery journey. If not by design, then perhaps by the grace of a Higher Power.

Last spring, Andy, who is retired and spends his time between Bracebridge and London, Ontario, was focused on trying to help his home group transition to virtual meetings. Unfortunately, his group did not survive the move online, so he went searching for alternatives.

“I wasn’t necessarily looking for a secular option when I googled AA meetings online. But a group in Florida, called OMAGOD – Our Mostly Agnostic Group of Drunks, caught my eye, so I decided to check it out. I really liked their approach, and after the novelty of going to a Florida-based meeting wore off, I decided to look for secular groups closer to home.”

That’s when he discovered Ottawa’s Secular Sobriety Group which meets Sunday night, online, at 7:30 pm. Now, almost a year into the pandemic, Andy is attending upwards of five secular meetings a week, mostly based out of Eastern Ontario. He also attends Ottawa’s Beyond Belief Secular Group, Thursday night, 7 pm.

“I’ve learned to tone it down over the years; at one time I could get into a pretty heated discussion with some members of the fellowship who I thought were a bit too rigid in their thinking. I just couldn’t let others try to tell me that I would only stay sober if I believed in God.”

Andy said what keeps him coming back to secular meetings is the free-thinking; he’s convinced that more and more members are taking advantage of online platforms to kick the tires on Secular AA.

“No doubt in my mind, Covid-19 and the endless list of online meetings all over the country, and the world, has cemented the ‘secular’ movement within AA. And I think that’s great. It’s given people like me who were feeling restless and disenfranchised a way to stay more engaged and connected to this amazing program.”

The AA tent is getting bigger

As recent as 2000, there were no more than 50 secular AA meetings across the globe. By the time the pandemic hit there were around 600. Now, a year later, there are easily more than 1,000 such meetings worldwide.

“It’s been most encouraging to see how quickly AA adapted to the new normal after Covid-19 arrived,” said Joe C, a leader in the Toronto secular movement, and a founder of the group Beyond Belief Agnostics & Freethinkers.

“We are seeing our numbers swell. Our Saturday discussion group is now attracting more than 100 participants. And it’s not only agnostics and atheists who are showing up. We have plenty of so-called believers who are also joining us. Some of them had simply walked away from AA. They weren’t mad, just fatigued, and simply looking for something new and different to fill the void.”

Joe points to the many and diverse AA special interest groups that have started over the past few decades. Groups for women, African Americans, Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgendered people, young people, seniors, professionals, special needs people, Indigenous peoples, and many more.

“In the end, those who have moved away from the mainstream are simply doing what Bill W had wished for. He called it pioneering, and he insisted that AAs had to continue to go through the same pioneering efforts in order to keep the fellowship vital and relevant.”


For a PDF of the newsletter click on the image


The post Five Years Old and Growing Stronger first appeared on AA Agnostica.