Category: From AA Agnostica

par Louise B

PRÉAMBULE

Tout s’est passé vite. À l’été 2020, un membre d’Ottawa habitué des groupes AA laïcs de sa ville me tient un discours statistique sur l’appartenance religieuse de la population générale du Canada. J’ai oublié le pourcentage exact, mais j’ai été frappée  par l’indifférence des Canadiens face à la pratique religieuse.

Du coup, je me retrouve en pensée dans mon groupe d’attache dont la très grande majorité des membres ont plus de cinquante ans. De temps à autre arrive une jeune recrue… que nous ne reverrons pas. Tout s’éclaire : le discours religieux des AA traditionnels a sur les jeunes un effet dissuasif. Le message ne les atteint pas.

Or, les jeunes ne sont pas les seuls qu’agace l’intense présence de Dieu dans le déroulement des réunions AA. Intellectuellement adepte du védisme et du bouddhisme, je n’en peux plus des bondieuseries judéo-chrétiennes dans mon groupe. Au point que l’honnêteté me force à abandonner mes fonctions, et le groupe lui-même.

Mais le message de mon ami athée et agnostique, comme lui-même se définit, a porté ses fruits et je trouve dans la liste des réunions virtuelles un groupe francophone pour athées et agnostiques. Les Libres-penseurs accueillent tout le monde ; l’ouverture d’esprit de ses membres est rafraichissante. Dès la première réunion, je sais que je viens de trouver mon groupe d’attache pour un bon moment.

LE PETIT LIVRE JAUNE

Désireuse de servir, je fais part aux Libres-penseurs de mes compétences professionnelles en traduction. Le groupe ne laisse pas passer l’occasion ; il estime qu’il faut accorder la priorité au Little Book de Roger C. ainsi titré par les anglophones pour faire un rappel du Big Book. Je le traduirai.

Ce n’est pas parce que le client est AA Agnostica et les Libres-penseurs que la tâche sera facile. Du côté du client, rien à redire : les Libres-penseurs ont fait montre de patience, AA Agnostica aussi. Il n’en reste pas moins que chaque traduction, chaque nouveau client sont un défi. C’est le cas ici.

Premier frein : Les Libres-penseurs veulent modifier la formulation de leurs propres étapes. Il faut attendre le texte définitif puisque la version Libres-penseurs sera incluse dans Le petit livre jaune. De plus, l’auteur modifie parfois les textes anglais après qu’ils ont été traduits, avec des répercussions dont lui-même n’est pas conscient. C’est un scénario bien connu en traduction! Travail de fourmi en vue en dépit des avancées informatiques en production de texte.

Deuxième difficulté : les nombreuses références aux textes de base en français. Si certains sont facilement accessibles, comme les douze étapes d’origine, il n’en est pas de même pour d’autres comme Transmets-le ou des textes de Bill W. dans Grapevine. Il faudra négocier avec le service des Archives d’AA pour obtenir les originaux français de toutes les publications. Merci aux Archives puisque la demande d’AA Agnostica sera finalement agréée.

Enfin, le travail de mise en forme avec une personne d’une langue différente a été une fabuleuse expérience de patience. Aucune ironie ici : ensemble, le metteur en page et moi, avons produit 10 versions du Petit livre jaune avant de crier : « Victoire ! » Je suis reconnaissante à Chris G. d’être resté impassible tout au long de l’aventure. Il a dû m’inspirer puisque je n’ai jamais connu avec lui de moment d’exaspération et que, au contraire, ses fantaisies involontaires m’ont fait sourire. Je m’en voudrais de ne pas mentionner le soutien indéfectible de l’auteur, Roger C. Je souhaite que mes multiples demandes et exigences ne le découragent pas d’ouvrir d’autres chantiers de traduction.

Enfin, j’ai largement profité du travail exécuté dans le cadre de l’adaptation du Petit livre jaune. J’ai été plongée au coeur des préceptes et des valeurs qui font les groupes AA athées ou agnostiques. J’ai la conviction d’être à ma place. Que ce soit le cas de tous ceux et celles qui croient trouver en eux-mêmes et en elles-mêmes et au sein d’un groupe d’alcooliques la solution à leur problème d’alcool. Je leur dédie la traduction du Petit livre jaune.

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Le petit livre jaune

«–Un merveilleux témoignage de la marche continue de l’histoire des AA.–» ERNEST KURTZ, Auteur de Not-God: A History of Alcoholics Anonymous.

CONTENU :

• Vingt versions des douze étapes.

• Les interprétations de chacune des étapes par quatre experts renommés : Stephanie Covington, Thérèse Jacobs-Stewart, Allen Berger et Gabor Maté. Des gabarits pour écrire une version personnelle et des interprétions de chacune des étapes.

• Un essai qui trace l’histoire des douze étapes et qui pose un regard critique sur cette histoire.

Le petit livre jaune est une célébration des nombreuses façons dont les gens adaptent et interprètent les douze étapes afin de parvenir à un «–changement de personnalité qui suffit à entraîner le rétablissement de l’alcoolique–».

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Le petit livre jaune, écrit par Roger C et traduit par Louise B, est disponible sur Amazon. Voici quelque liens:

Amazon USA;
Amazon Canada et
Amazon France.

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The post Présentation du Petit livre jaune first appeared on AA Agnostica.

by Glenn Rader

When I was about eight years old, my mother was overcome by delusional, paranoid schizophrenia. She was a bright woman, always sharply dressed, articulate, loving, and caring. The schizophrenia completely consumed her, and she became an obsessive, brooding, and fearful person. Her change was not simply like someone who is having a really bad day and being disagreeable and moody. She was completely transformed into a different person. It was as if someone else had been transplanted into her body. Her voice, mannerisms, and her view of reality were completely altered.

My mother believed that she was a part of a dark conspiracy. Her role in the “plot” was to protect secret, important information that a group of unsavory characters wanted. Her charter from her “leaders” was to stay hidden and protect that information. Periodically, she would direct me and my sisters to hide in closets or in the basement to avoid the “radar” beams that they were using to scan our house in an attempt to locate her. She was delusional, it was her reality, and there was nothing you could say to her to convince her otherwise. On a positive note, she found a path out of her mental illness and lived a great life, free from schizophrenia, until she passed away at 98 years old. My sisters and I had a wonderful relationship with her.

My drinking and drugging started when I was in undergraduate college and was nurtured during graduate school. I first started thinking that I might have an alcohol “issue” when, after expressing some remorse over my vodka bottle on the shelf being nearly empty, my roommate suggested that my concern over my vodka supply seemed “odd”. He went on to say that I might be developing a problem with drinking. Of course, that was a preposterous assertion. Over decades my “issue” with alcohol progressed into a full physical and psychological dependency. Along with the dependency came the “stinking thinking”. I can recall my wife telling me that I seemed like a different person; that my personality had changed, and that most of the time I was not making sense – not being realistic. I was delusional, it was my reality, and there was nothing you could say to convince me otherwise.

My “stinking thinking”, my “alco-logic” as we like to refer to it in my local AA recovery community, led me to the conclusion that I might have inherited my mother’s mental illness. Perhaps, my personality and behavior change, and excessive “self-medicating” with alcohol and drugs to cope, were a result of developing schizophrenia. I went to a psychiatrist and had the full battery of psychological tests performed. Alco-Logic: If I could address the mental illness, then I could drink (and drug) like “normal” people – not needing the “extra” for self-medication. Fortunately, I got a clean bill-of-mental-health from the psychiatrist. Shortly thereafter I got active in AA and have developed a solid recovery regimen.

Then, to my amazement, a few years into recovery I discovered a short, insightful book that is now on my list of “must-read” books for people in recovery. It is called Addictive Thinking – Understanding Self-Deception, by Abraham, J. Twerski, MD. It is a book that explains the similarities between the thinking that accompanies addiction and schizophrenia.

Dr. Twerski is the founder and medical director emeritus of the Gateway Rehabilitation Center in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. A rabbi, psychiatrist, and chemical dependency counselor, he is the author of numerous journal articles and books.

Based on his extensive, hands-on experience in the addiction recovery field, and his training in psychiatry, Dr. Twerski observed that people suffering from addiction reach a stage where they think and behave like schizophrenics. What does he mean by “thinking like a schizophrenic”? He means that you can reach a stage in your addiction where you believe and behave like you are living in an alternative reality. Looking back, I may not have inherited my mother’s mental illness, but I was certainly thinking and behaving like I was living in a different reality.

What Dr. Twerski would advance is that both the alcoholic and the schizophrenic are living in extreme self-deception. It is self-deception that is grounded in self-esteem issues. Reading Addictive Thinking was like reading a summary of myself when I was at the height of my addiction. These are some of the “stinking thinking” issues that are part of the self-deception that Dr. Twerski describes:

• Confusion regarding cause and effect,
• Denial, rationalization, and projection,
• Problems dealing with conflict,
• Hypersensitivity,
• Having morbid expectations,
• Manipulating others,
• Guilt and shame,
• Omnipotence and impotence,
• An inability to admit errors, and
• Anger management.

Through Dr. Twerski’s work, I have an improved understanding of my addiction, delusional thinking, and why I must rely on resources outside of myself for guidance regarding my recovery. He is someone who has been in the “trenches” of addiction and psychiatry and knows his way around.

---

Addictive Thinking – Understanding Self-Deception.

Dr. Twerski outlines the destructive and terrifying illogic that marries a person with a substance use disorder to their addiction. “Stinking thinking” and irrational thought are byproducts of addiction and they only worsen with time.

Twerski, with a deep psychological understanding, steps in to explain and contextualize all of the actions that arise from addictive thinking.

---

Glenn Rader is an author and public speaker in the recovery community. He is the author of: STOP – Things You MUST Know Before Trying to Help Someone with Addiction.

STOP is a short, innovative book that is essential reading for someone trying to help a person with alcohol or drug addiction. The book contains information and action items that some people take years of trial and error to learn; often at a significant emotional and financial sacrifice.

The book will change your view of what “helping” someone struggling with addiction really means.

---

 

The post Addictive Thinking – Thinking Like a Schizophrenic first appeared on AA Agnostica.

by Glenn Rader

When I was about eight years old, my mother was overcome by delusional, paranoid schizophrenia. She was a bright woman, always sharply dressed, articulate, loving, and caring. The schizophrenia completely consumed her, and she became an obsessive, brooding, and fearful person. Her change was not simply like someone who is having a really bad day and being disagreeable and moody. She was completely transformed into a different person. It was as if someone else had been transplanted into her body. Her voice, mannerisms, and her view of reality were completely altered.

My mother believed that she was a part of a dark conspiracy. Her role in the “plot” was to protect secret, important information that a group of unsavory characters wanted. Her charter from her “leaders” was to stay hidden and protect that information. Periodically, she would direct me and my sisters to hide in closets or in the basement to avoid the “radar” beams that they were using to scan our house in an attempt to locate her. She was delusional, it was her reality, and there was nothing you could say to her to convince her otherwise. On a positive note, she found a path out of her mental illness and lived a great life, free from schizophrenia, until she passed away at 98 years old. My sisters and I had a wonderful relationship with her.

My drinking and drugging started when I was in undergraduate college and was nurtured during graduate school. I first started thinking that I might have an alcohol “issue” when, after expressing some remorse over my vodka bottle on the shelf being nearly empty, my roommate suggested that my concern over my vodka supply seemed “odd”. He went on to say that I might be developing a problem with drinking. Of course, that was a preposterous assertion. Over decades my “issue” with alcohol progressed into a full physical and psychological dependency. Along with the dependency came the “stinking thinking”. I can recall my wife telling me that I seemed like a different person; that my personality had changed, and that most of the time I was not making sense – not being realistic. I was delusional, it was my reality, and there was nothing you could say to convince me otherwise.

My “stinking thinking”, my “alco-logic” as we like to refer to it in my local AA recovery community, led me to the conclusion that I might have inherited my mother’s mental illness. Perhaps, my personality and behavior change, and excessive “self-medicating” with alcohol and drugs to cope, were a result of developing schizophrenia. I went to a psychiatrist and had the full battery of psychological tests performed. Alco-Logic: If I could address the mental illness, then I could drink (and drug) like “normal” people – not needing the “extra” for self-medication. Fortunately, I got a clean bill-of-mental-health from the psychiatrist. Shortly thereafter I got active in AA and have developed a solid recovery regimen.

Then, to my amazement, a few years into recovery I discovered a short, insightful book that is now on my list of “must-read” books for people in recovery. It is called Addictive Thinking – Understanding Self-Deception, by Abraham, J. Twerski, MD. It is a book that explains the similarities between the thinking that accompanies addiction and schizophrenia.

Dr. Twerski is the founder and medical director emeritus of the Gateway Rehabilitation Center in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. A rabbi, psychiatrist, and chemical dependency counselor, he is the author of numerous journal articles and books.

Based on his extensive, hands-on experience in the addiction recovery field, and his training in psychiatry, Dr. Twerski observed that people suffering from addiction reach a stage where they think and behave like schizophrenics. What does he mean by “thinking like a schizophrenic”? He means that you can reach a stage in your addiction where you believe and behave like you are living in an alternative reality. Looking back, I may not have inherited my mother’s mental illness, but I was certainly thinking and behaving like I was living in a different reality.

What Dr. Twerski would advance is that both the alcoholic and the schizophrenic are living in extreme self-deception. It is self-deception that is grounded in self-esteem issues. Reading Addictive Thinking was like reading a summary of myself when I was at the height of my addiction. These are some of the “stinking thinking” issues that are part of the self-deception that Dr. Twerski describes:

• Confusion regarding cause and effect,
• Denial, rationalization, and projection,
• Problems dealing with conflict,
• Hypersensitivity,
• Having morbid expectations,
• Manipulating others,
• Guilt and shame,
• Omnipotence and impotence,
• An inability to admit errors, and
• Anger management.

Through Dr. Twerski’s work, I have an improved understanding of my addiction, delusional thinking, and why I must rely on resources outside of myself for guidance regarding my recovery. He is someone who has been in the “trenches” of addiction and psychiatry and knows his way around.

---

Addictive Thinking – Understanding Self-Deception.

Dr. Twerski outlines the destructive and terrifying illogic that marries a person with a substance use disorder to their addiction. “Stinking thinking” and irrational thought are byproducts of addiction and they only worsen with time.

Twerski, with a deep psychological understanding, steps in to explain and contextualize all of the actions that arise from addictive thinking.

---

Glenn Rader is an author and public speaker in the recovery community. He is the author of: STOP – Things You MUST Know Before Trying to Help Someone with Addiction.

STOP is a short, innovative book that is essential reading for someone trying to help a person with alcohol or drug addiction. The book contains information and action items that some people take years of trial and error to learn; often at a significant emotional and financial sacrifice.

The book will change your view of what “helping” someone struggling with addiction really means.

---

 

The post Addictive Thinking – Thinking Like a Schizophrenic first appeared on AA Agnostica.

Chapter 9:
Do Tell! Stories by Atheists and Agnostics in AA

Alex M.

When I was a small boy the neighborhood kids would gather on weekends to play kickball. We would all line up eagerly waiting to hear our name called for each team. I would look down at the ground and shuffle my feet knowing once again my name would the last one spoken. That was the start of a lifetime of not fitting in.

Raised as an only child in Kentucky during the 1950s, my father worked as a chemical engineer while my mother spoiled me at home. Food, clothing and shelter were easily provided. Our neighborhood was safe enough to leave our doors unlocked. Stay at home moms watched over each other’s kids so we never got into too much trouble. On Halloween we roamed far and wide, filling our sacks till they overflowed. At Christmas entire families went caroling house to house.

The only advice I remember getting from my father was to work hard, never ask for anything from anybody, get the best education I could and find a good job. My mother taught me that it didn’t matter who I thought I was or what I felt; all that mattered was how I appeared to the world. Keep your mouth shut, control your emotions, trust no one, and hold your secrets close. Lying to myself and pretending with others became routine.

When my father drank he turned into an angry, combative alcoholic who terrified me and abused my mother. As his life became more unmanageable our lives became more unmanageable.

I lived in fear of my father’s rages and not knowing when my mother would grab me up to flee the house during yet another domestic quarrel. All I wanted was to escape the chaos. At an early age I discovered books. I would hide in my room and read. Reading took me to a safe place, but it was empty and lonely.

Down deep I yearned to be part of something more. A lot more. Like Bill W., I wanted to prove to the world I was important. I wanted to fit in with others, be accepted and be the big-shot. I wanted the world to do my bidding and when it didn’t I got angry. The first resentment I remember was when the bully next door hit me with a sucker punch when I was five. l got even and remember his name to this day.

Going through school I tried to fit in with various groups. There were the usual Nerds, Jocks, Scholars and Romeos. None welcomed me. After a while I found a few outcasts who spent their time drinking. An unpopular group, they stayed in the shadows. Since I had recently discovered bourbon would help me sleep at night and ease my worries during the day, I joined the group. In no time those misfits became my friends and I worked to become the best drinker around. At last I fit in.

In high school I developed an interest in Medicine and I decided I was going to become a doctor. I knew it would take many years of schooling and hard work but I felt it was a worthy goal and might even relieve some of the turmoil in my life.

Somehow I was able to balance drinking and schooling long enough to enter a fine college in Philadelphia where I was on my own for the first time. Recurrent blackouts that started during freshman year terrified me, but instead of addressing the cause I denied there was a problem.

As my college drinking progressed my grades worsened but my desire to become a physician overcame my desire to drink. As a hard drinker, I was able to cut down on the alcohol and graduated with honors.

During medical school and later training I continued to drink when off duty but was too busy to drink while working. Once in medical practice, like Dr. Bob, I felt an obligation never to drink while working with patients but drank to oblivion when not at work.

During my early professional years I got married and later divorced. When I asked my wife why she wanted a divorce she said it was because I was never there for her. She was right. All I did was work and get drunk. It was all about me.

Several years after my divorce I met and married an exceptional lady from my hometown. Shortly after our honeymoon she was diagnosed with cancer and died within a few months.

The night she died I went outdoors and noticed that three white jet contrails had formed a perfect triangle in the sky. For some reason that image reminded me of the Holy Trinity. Believing God was mocking the death of my wife, I ran around screaming and cursing at the sky. I never set foot in a church again.

From that point on I used my wife’s death as justification to become even more selfish and self-centered. I drank with impunity. I just didn’t care anymore. I left practice and took a medical administrative position. Somehow I managed to remain employed but my drinking progressed over the next ten years. I drifted from desk job to desk job where it was easier for me to drink without consequence. By the time I reached my early fifties I owned my own medical consulting business which allowed me to drink however I wanted.

Through those years I had acquired a third wife who no longer wanted to be around me and a family that I had pushed aside. Eventually I stopped working completely because work continued to interfere with my drinking. The more I drank the worse I felt. I saw no way out of my inability to live sober or my disgust at living drunk. Suicide beckoned, and I would line up shotgun shells on the table by my bed praying to have the courage to load the gun and use it. By then my life consisted of sitting on a couch yelling at nameless newscasters on TV while drinking from blackout to blackout.

One day a friend offered to take me to an AA meeting and I agreed, probably because I was still drunk. All I remember from that meeting was that folks told me to ask God for help not drinking one day at a time and to keep coming back.

Working with my sponsor, I had no problem accepting that I was an alcoholic, but I had a big problem with the default AA solution: God. Despite being raised in the church, I never felt a personal connection to any God or religion that crossed my path. No Higher Power ever manipulated my life. There was no heaven or hell. Death was final. Events were governed by the laws of nature and coincidences were not arranged by God. Even when in the depths of my pain I had never cried out “God help me”. I had no idea if there was or was not a God, and really didn’t care. I was an agnostic for sure and probably an atheist at heart.

I had repeatedly demonstrated that my own will-power and self-reliance could not get me sober, and I needed to find something to get and stay sober. Lack of power over alcohol, that was my dilemma.

Then I discovered what became for me the five most important words in AA as we know it today – “God as we understood him”. The words “as we understood him” were added to the Steps as a result of the work of Jim B., one of the very first atheists in AA. And those few words saved my life because they allowed me to turn to a spiritual power of my own understanding for help. I no longer had to rely on a religious power of someone else’s understanding.

In “Working With Others” Bill says, “If the man be agnostic or atheist, make it emphatic that he does not have to agree with your conception of God. He can choose any conception he likes, provided it makes sense to him. The main thing is that he be willing to believe in a power greater than himself and that he live by spiritual principles”. (BB, p. 93)

My responsibility today is to carry the message of hope and recovery to another alcoholic who still suffers. To be effective I must put aside my personal frustration that the Big Book not to subtly preaches that the highest Higher Power available to alcoholics is the traditional Christian God. This is not really surprising, given the influence of the Protestant Oxford Group in the early growth of AA.

So I got out pen and paper and wrote down what the “God of my understanding” looked like. In no way did it resemble the God of my upbringing, but it was a power that I could turn to for strength, direction, and guidance as I went through each day trying to do the next right thing.

But what could I to replace God with? Would it be Willingness, or Honesty, or Open-Mindedness, or Group of Drunks, or Homegroup, or Sponsor, or Allah, or Confucius, or Buddha, or Great Spirit, or the Cosmos, or Nature, or Love, or Compassion, or Tolerance or Service?

I needed some kind of power in my life by which I could not only stay sober but also find a new way of living. I couldn’t rely entirely on the power of my own self-will or self-reliance, since that approach had failed completely. So I had to find some other power of my understanding by which I could live. That power was to be mine, and mine alone. No longer need I feel intimidated by anyone else’s Higher Power that was discussed in the rooms of AA.

The power I draw on today comes from the feeling I get deep within me when I look up at the stars and realize that somehow all of us in this universe are connected. I am not connected by choice or by some imaginary divine hand. I am connected by the collective power of Love, Goodness and Compassion. In AA terms these spiritual principles are “the God of my understanding”.

My power is not a heavenly power; it is a human power. It is not a power created by my self-will; it simply exists because I exist. This is the power I turn to for strength, hope and direction in my life, rather than the power of John Barleycorn.

I feel my power most when I am in the rooms of AA and working one-on-one with other alcoholics. I especially like working with alcoholics struggling with the “God thing”, since I can share my story and be living proof that any of us can get sober, including those who struggle with their own concept of religion, God, Higher Power or spirituality.

Today I am grateful that Bill W. created AA, but I am so much more grateful for his fellow alcoholics Jim B., Hank P. and others who ensured AA could provide for not only for believers, but also for non-believers like myself. Certainly, more needs to be done to further “widen the gateway” of our fellowship, but that’s a story for another day.

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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.

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The post A Friend of Jim B. first appeared on AA Agnostica.

Chapter 9:
Do Tell! Stories by Atheists and Agnostics in AA

Alex M.

When I was a small boy the neighborhood kids would gather on weekends to play kickball. We would all line up eagerly waiting to hear our name called for each team. I would look down at the ground and shuffle my feet knowing once again my name would the last one spoken. That was the start of a lifetime of not fitting in.

Raised as an only child in Kentucky during the 1950s, my father worked as a chemical engineer while my mother spoiled me at home. Food, clothing and shelter were easily provided. Our neighborhood was safe enough to leave our doors unlocked. Stay at home moms watched over each other’s kids so we never got into too much trouble. On Halloween we roamed far and wide, filling our sacks till they overflowed. At Christmas entire families went caroling house to house.

The only advice I remember getting from my father was to work hard, never ask for anything from anybody, get the best education I could and find a good job. My mother taught me that it didn’t matter who I thought I was or what I felt; all that mattered was how I appeared to the world. Keep your mouth shut, control your emotions, trust no one, and hold your secrets close. Lying to myself and pretending with others became routine.

When my father drank he turned into an angry, combative alcoholic who terrified me and abused my mother. As his life became more unmanageable our lives became more unmanageable.

I lived in fear of my father’s rages and not knowing when my mother would grab me up to flee the house during yet another domestic quarrel. All I wanted was to escape the chaos. At an early age I discovered books. I would hide in my room and read. Reading took me to a safe place, but it was empty and lonely.

Down deep I yearned to be part of something more. A lot more. Like Bill W., I wanted to prove to the world I was important. I wanted to fit in with others, be accepted and be the big-shot. I wanted the world to do my bidding and when it didn’t I got angry. The first resentment I remember was when the bully next door hit me with a sucker punch when I was five. l got even and remember his name to this day.

Going through school I tried to fit in with various groups. There were the usual Nerds, Jocks, Scholars and Romeos. None welcomed me. After a while I found a few outcasts who spent their time drinking. An unpopular group, they stayed in the shadows. Since I had recently discovered bourbon would help me sleep at night and ease my worries during the day, I joined the group. In no time those misfits became my friends and I worked to become the best drinker around. At last I fit in.

In high school I developed an interest in Medicine and I decided I was going to become a doctor. I knew it would take many years of schooling and hard work but I felt it was a worthy goal and might even relieve some of the turmoil in my life.

Somehow I was able to balance drinking and schooling long enough to enter a fine college in Philadelphia where I was on my own for the first time. Recurrent blackouts that started during freshman year terrified me, but instead of addressing the cause I denied there was a problem.

As my college drinking progressed my grades worsened but my desire to become a physician overcame my desire to drink. As a hard drinker, I was able to cut down on the alcohol and graduated with honors.

During medical school and later training I continued to drink when off duty but was too busy to drink while working. Once in medical practice, like Dr. Bob, I felt an obligation never to drink while working with patients but drank to oblivion when not at work.

During my early professional years I got married and later divorced. When I asked my wife why she wanted a divorce she said it was because I was never there for her. She was right. All I did was work and get drunk. It was all about me.

Several years after my divorce I met and married an exceptional lady from my hometown. Shortly after our honeymoon she was diagnosed with cancer and died within a few months.

The night she died I went outdoors and noticed that three white jet contrails had formed a perfect triangle in the sky. For some reason that image reminded me of the Holy Trinity. Believing God was mocking the death of my wife, I ran around screaming and cursing at the sky. I never set foot in a church again.

From that point on I used my wife’s death as justification to become even more selfish and self-centered. I drank with impunity. I just didn’t care anymore. I left practice and took a medical administrative position. Somehow I managed to remain employed but my drinking progressed over the next ten years. I drifted from desk job to desk job where it was easier for me to drink without consequence. By the time I reached my early fifties I owned my own medical consulting business which allowed me to drink however I wanted.

Through those years I had acquired a third wife who no longer wanted to be around me and a family that I had pushed aside. Eventually I stopped working completely because work continued to interfere with my drinking. The more I drank the worse I felt. I saw no way out of my inability to live sober or my disgust at living drunk. Suicide beckoned, and I would line up shotgun shells on the table by my bed praying to have the courage to load the gun and use it. By then my life consisted of sitting on a couch yelling at nameless newscasters on TV while drinking from blackout to blackout.

One day a friend offered to take me to an AA meeting and I agreed, probably because I was still drunk. All I remember from that meeting was that folks told me to ask God for help not drinking one day at a time and to keep coming back.

Working with my sponsor, I had no problem accepting that I was an alcoholic, but I had a big problem with the default AA solution: God. Despite being raised in the church, I never felt a personal connection to any God or religion that crossed my path. No Higher Power ever manipulated my life. There was no heaven or hell. Death was final. Events were governed by the laws of nature and coincidences were not arranged by God. Even when in the depths of my pain I had never cried out “God help me”. I had no idea if there was or was not a God, and really didn’t care. I was an agnostic for sure and probably an atheist at heart.

I had repeatedly demonstrated that my own will-power and self-reliance could not get me sober, and I needed to find something to get and stay sober. Lack of power over alcohol, that was my dilemma.

Then I discovered what became for me the five most important words in AA as we know it today – “God as we understood him”. The words “as we understood him” were added to the Steps as a result of the work of Jim B., one of the very first atheists in AA. And those few words saved my life because they allowed me to turn to a spiritual power of my own understanding for help. I no longer had to rely on a religious power of someone else’s understanding.

In “Working With Others” Bill says, “If the man be agnostic or atheist, make it emphatic that he does not have to agree with your conception of God. He can choose any conception he likes, provided it makes sense to him. The main thing is that he be willing to believe in a power greater than himself and that he live by spiritual principles”. (BB, p. 93)

My responsibility today is to carry the message of hope and recovery to another alcoholic who still suffers. To be effective I must put aside my personal frustration that the Big Book not to subtly preaches that the highest Higher Power available to alcoholics is the traditional Christian God. This is not really surprising, given the influence of the Protestant Oxford Group in the early growth of AA.

So I got out pen and paper and wrote down what the “God of my understanding” looked like. In no way did it resemble the God of my upbringing, but it was a power that I could turn to for strength, direction, and guidance as I went through each day trying to do the next right thing.

But what could I to replace God with? Would it be Willingness, or Honesty, or Open-Mindedness, or Group of Drunks, or Homegroup, or Sponsor, or Allah, or Confucius, or Buddha, or Great Spirit, or the Cosmos, or Nature, or Love, or Compassion, or Tolerance or Service?

I needed some kind of power in my life by which I could not only stay sober but also find a new way of living. I couldn’t rely entirely on the power of my own self-will or self-reliance, since that approach had failed completely. So I had to find some other power of my understanding by which I could live. That power was to be mine, and mine alone. No longer need I feel intimidated by anyone else’s Higher Power that was discussed in the rooms of AA.

The power I draw on today comes from the feeling I get deep within me when I look up at the stars and realize that somehow all of us in this universe are connected. I am not connected by choice or by some imaginary divine hand. I am connected by the collective power of Love, Goodness and Compassion. In AA terms these spiritual principles are “the God of my understanding”.

My power is not a heavenly power; it is a human power. It is not a power created by my self-will; it simply exists because I exist. This is the power I turn to for strength, hope and direction in my life, rather than the power of John Barleycorn.

I feel my power most when I am in the rooms of AA and working one-on-one with other alcoholics. I especially like working with alcoholics struggling with the “God thing”, since I can share my story and be living proof that any of us can get sober, including those who struggle with their own concept of religion, God, Higher Power or spirituality.

Today I am grateful that Bill W. created AA, but I am so much more grateful for his fellow alcoholics Jim B., Hank P. and others who ensured AA could provide for not only for believers, but also for non-believers like myself. Certainly, more needs to be done to further “widen the gateway” of our fellowship, but that’s a story for another day.

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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.

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The post A Friend of Jim B. first appeared on AA Agnostica.

By Dave W.

My goodness we are an efficient bunch in AA. Got it all nailed down. Nothing new under the sun. Our omnipotent Big Book laid it all out for us in 1939. What a blessing. We do not have to over complicate our recovery and our lives with the foolish notion that new knowledge about alcoholism and addiction may have occurred over the past eighty plus years.

I am shaking my head at the absurdity of the above paragraph largely because there seems to be a sizable number of our fellowship that actually subscribes to that belief. For myself, I gave up the idea early in my struggles that I could fit the causes and effects of my alcoholism into the neat little package that is the suggested AA program of recovery.

I am not suggesting that working through the twelve steps is a fruitless endeavour. A huge part of recovery is admitting powerlessness over an addictive toxic poison that damages and destroys our bodies, brains, and spirits. In the early stages of abstinence, most of us are left with having to undo the harm to our lives and relationships that our drinking caused. The steps provide a roadmap for cleaning up our messes and safeguarding against falling back into old destructive patterns.

The foundational base of the AA triangle is labeled “recovery”. As a starting point, that makes complete sense to me. Without recovery from alcohol addiction, we are of little use to others in the fellowship and in our personal lives. What I would challenge however is the AA twelve step model as being a one size fits everyone stand-alone method of recovery.

AA identifies the twelve steps as its core program. The Big Book states people who fail do so because they either cannot or will not give themselves over to this “simple program”. The “A Newcomer Asks” pamphlet recommends to those new to begin the steps and study the Big Book. At many meetings, newcomers are encouraged and even pressured to find a sponsor and begin step work ASAP.

Sponsorship seems to go hand in hand with step work. I have cringed sitting in meetings watching would be sponsors stand up at meetings to offer their guidance and wisdom to a person they have never met before and know nothing about. The visual has a very intimidating look to it. Not to mention the fact that the true motivation of the prospective sponsor may have more to do with the sponsors needs than that of the person they are offering to help.

Strangers sponsoring strangers to any meaningful level of depth makes about as much sense to me as having a medical problem and approaching someone on the street for help hoping they have suffered from the same malady at some point in their life. We would not be asked to give other areas of our health or welfare over to a total stranger who although may understand their own reasons for drinking, may be completely lost in understanding our own unique core problems. It is perilous to give that power to an individual simply because they have accumulated X number of sober days.

The power exchange that can occur in sponsorship has always made me uncomfortable. Like the steps, it is promoted as a must in some meetings. There are individuals in AA who have no business taking on the role of sponsor. Many lack the basic skills and mental health required to assist another in what can be a harrowing and painful journey of self discovery. I have heard stories of sponsors “firing” the people they sponsor over ludicrous reasons such as unwillingness to pray a certain way, a disbelief in god, an unwillingness to call in every day, or a rejected demand that the newly sober person also become a sponsor. At its worst, sponsorship has the potential danger of being a violation of a person’s boundaries, safety and freedom of choice. Although I have heard of many positive outcomes of sponsorship, I am convinced in some cases the relationship represents an opportunity to have power and control over another person.

To reiterate, I am not opposed to either step work or sponsorship and I am not advocating we put an end to either. I do however challenge the narrowness of relying on these tools as our primary means of recovery. They seem to occupy the lions share of attention in AA. Traditional meetings revolve around the steps and you really feel out of place in many meetings if you are choosing a different path for your recovery. At times I have felt like I am doing something wrong if I do not have a sponsor or have not worked the steps.

In traditional meetings members learn to talk in AA speak, a jargon unique to the fellowship. I find people will often parrot what they have heard from other members and what they have read in the literature. AA is overflowing with cliches and slogans. People’s shares frequently sound robotic and have a people pleasing quality to them. What gets lost in the mix is individual spontaneity and a feeling that is it not advisable to go off script if your own experiences are too contrary to the prescribed program.

Another scared cow in AA is a requirement to identify and have a higher power. It appears to be such an essential component of recovery that even a doorknob can suffice. The original intent seems to have been to allow non-believers some latitude in selecting a non deity as a higher power under the assumption they will eventually come to know and love god. I have sat in secular meetings and heard sober alcoholics reject the need to embrace both god and a higher power. I have personally never seen the need to cling to this construct, I do not understand the benefit of going through the deliberate exercise of identifying one. Like much in recovery, if it develops organically, it can be useful, but we do not have to hit people over the head with the idea of identifying their own personal saviour.

My personal time in secular AA is night and day to what I experience in traditional meetings. In secular meetings we are breaking down the barriers of what is appropriate discussion. Many people struggle with cross addictions. I find it impossible to separate my alcoholism from other addictive impulses. I am convinced the same neuro pathways in my brain that led to my drinking I have used in other destructive behaviours. I find it very therapeutic and healing to share my daily battles with non-alcoholic addictions and obsessions. Speaking of them in meetings helps keep me sober.  I have never had to struggle with the horrors of heroin or cocaine addiction on top of alcoholism. Yet I am not about to tell someone “this is AA, we don’t talk about that here.”

In the secular rooms we are not afraid to go off convention and introduce non-conference approved readings in our meetings. There is an amazing amount of wisdom in our gatherings. Stale repetitive readings are hardly an efficient means to tap into this knowledge. When people feel safe to express themselves without fear of ridicule or harassment they give freely of their personal experiences. No one is going to be damaged or their sobriety lost if they hear ideas that are not GSO approved.

Despite how far we may stray from the traditional meeting format that seems to dominate AA, we never forget why it is we are meeting. We are collectively struggling with a life-threatening adversary. That reality always seems to bring us back to our main purpose.

More and more I conclude that the definition of recovery is unique to the individual. I believe recovery to be an individualized path of self discovery. Mine is a life-long journey and it has become as much of my uniqueness as any other area of my life. I could not follow someone else’s path any more than they could follow mine. I have my own unique set of challenges and life experiences. We can draw wisdom and insights into our own journeys from others experiences but we will never duplicate their lives. I find people in AA to be incredibly creative in overcoming seemingly insurmountable challenges and I have learned so much from them. The goal for me is to fit their wisdom and discoveries into my own life.

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David is a sixty two year-old agnostic alcoholic whose drinking career began late in life after growing up with an alcoholic father. After twelve years of daily drinking, he came to believe that a substance greater than himself trapped him in the same addictive cycle that had trapped various members of his family on both sides. Desperate for outside help, he found secular AA on-line in 2018 and was able to avoid the conflict with religion and a mandatory belief in god that traditional AA insists on imposing on members. His home group is Beyond Belief Toronto and this month – December 2020 – he is two years sober.

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The post Defining Recovery in AA in the 21st Century first appeared on AA Agnostica.

By Dave W.

My goodness we are an efficient bunch in AA. Got it all nailed down. Nothing new under the sun. Our omnipotent Big Book laid it all out for us in 1939. What a blessing. We do not have to over complicate our recovery and our lives with the foolish notion that new knowledge about alcoholism and addiction may have occurred over the past eighty plus years.

I am shaking my head at the absurdity of the above paragraph largely because there seems to be a sizable number of our fellowship that actually subscribes to that belief. For myself, I gave up the idea early in my struggles that I could fit the causes and effects of my alcoholism into the neat little package that is the suggested AA program of recovery.

I am not suggesting that working through the twelve steps is a fruitless endeavour. A huge part of recovery is admitting powerlessness over an addictive toxic poison that damages and destroys our bodies, brains, and spirits. In the early stages of abstinence, most of us are left with having to undo the harm to our lives and relationships that our drinking caused. The steps provide a roadmap for cleaning up our messes and safeguarding against falling back into old destructive patterns.

The foundational base of the AA triangle is labeled “recovery”. As a starting point, that makes complete sense to me. Without recovery from alcohol addiction, we are of little use to others in the fellowship and in our personal lives. What I would challenge however is the AA twelve step model as being a one size fits everyone stand-alone method of recovery.

AA identifies the twelve steps as its core program. The Big Book states people who fail do so because they either cannot or will not give themselves over to this “simple program”. The “A Newcomer Asks” pamphlet recommends to those new to begin the steps and study the Big Book. At many meetings, newcomers are encouraged and even pressured to find a sponsor and begin step work ASAP.

Sponsorship seems to go hand in hand with step work. I have cringed sitting in meetings watching would be sponsors stand up at meetings to offer their guidance and wisdom to a person they have never met before and know nothing about. The visual has a very intimidating look to it. Not to mention the fact that the true motivation of the prospective sponsor may have more to do with the sponsors needs than that of the person they are offering to help.

Strangers sponsoring strangers to any meaningful level of depth makes about as much sense to me as having a medical problem and approaching someone on the street for help hoping they have suffered from the same malady at some point in their life. We would not be asked to give other areas of our health or welfare over to a total stranger who although may understand their own reasons for drinking, may be completely lost in understanding our own unique core problems. It is perilous to give that power to an individual simply because they have accumulated X number of sober days.

The power exchange that can occur in sponsorship has always made me uncomfortable. Like the steps, it is promoted as a must in some meetings. There are individuals in AA who have no business taking on the role of sponsor. Many lack the basic skills and mental health required to assist another in what can be a harrowing and painful journey of self discovery. I have heard stories of sponsors “firing” the people they sponsor over ludicrous reasons such as unwillingness to pray a certain way, a disbelief in god, an unwillingness to call in every day, or a rejected demand that the newly sober person also become a sponsor. At its worst, sponsorship has the potential danger of being a violation of a person’s boundaries, safety and freedom of choice. Although I have heard of many positive outcomes of sponsorship, I am convinced in some cases the relationship represents an opportunity to have power and control over another person.

To reiterate, I am not opposed to either step work or sponsorship and I am not advocating we put an end to either. I do however challenge the narrowness of relying on these tools as our primary means of recovery. They seem to occupy the lions share of attention in AA. Traditional meetings revolve around the steps and you really feel out of place in many meetings if you are choosing a different path for your recovery. At times I have felt like I am doing something wrong if I do not have a sponsor or have not worked the steps.

In traditional meetings members learn to talk in AA speak, a jargon unique to the fellowship. I find people will often parrot what they have heard from other members and what they have read in the literature. AA is overflowing with cliches and slogans. People’s shares frequently sound robotic and have a people pleasing quality to them. What gets lost in the mix is individual spontaneity and a feeling that is it not advisable to go off script if your own experiences are too contrary to the prescribed program.

Another scared cow in AA is a requirement to identify and have a higher power. It appears to be such an essential component of recovery that even a doorknob can suffice. The original intent seems to have been to allow non-believers some latitude in selecting a non deity as a higher power under the assumption they will eventually come to know and love god. I have sat in secular meetings and heard sober alcoholics reject the need to embrace both god and a higher power. I have personally never seen the need to cling to this construct, I do not understand the benefit of going through the deliberate exercise of identifying one. Like much in recovery, if it develops organically, it can be useful, but we do not have to hit people over the head with the idea of identifying their own personal saviour.

My personal time in secular AA is night and day to what I experience in traditional meetings. In secular meetings we are breaking down the barriers of what is appropriate discussion. Many people struggle with cross addictions. I find it impossible to separate my alcoholism from other addictive impulses. I am convinced the same neuro pathways in my brain that led to my drinking I have used in other destructive behaviours. I find it very therapeutic and healing to share my daily battles with non-alcoholic addictions and obsessions. Speaking of them in meetings helps keep me sober.  I have never had to struggle with the horrors of heroin or cocaine addiction on top of alcoholism. Yet I am not about to tell someone “this is AA, we don’t talk about that here.”

In the secular rooms we are not afraid to go off convention and introduce non-conference approved readings in our meetings. There is an amazing amount of wisdom in our gatherings. Stale repetitive readings are hardly an efficient means to tap into this knowledge. When people feel safe to express themselves without fear of ridicule or harassment they give freely of their personal experiences. No one is going to be damaged or their sobriety lost if they hear ideas that are not GSO approved.

Despite how far we may stray from the traditional meeting format that seems to dominate AA, we never forget why it is we are meeting. We are collectively struggling with a life-threatening adversary. That reality always seems to bring us back to our main purpose.

More and more I conclude that the definition of recovery is unique to the individual. I believe recovery to be an individualized path of self discovery. Mine is a life-long journey and it has become as much of my uniqueness as any other area of my life. I could not follow someone else’s path any more than they could follow mine. I have my own unique set of challenges and life experiences. We can draw wisdom and insights into our own journeys from others experiences but we will never duplicate their lives. I find people in AA to be incredibly creative in overcoming seemingly insurmountable challenges and I have learned so much from them. The goal for me is to fit their wisdom and discoveries into my own life.

---

David is a sixty two year-old agnostic alcoholic whose drinking career began late in life after growing up with an alcoholic father. After twelve years of daily drinking, he came to believe that a substance greater than himself trapped him in the same addictive cycle that had trapped various members of his family on both sides. Desperate for outside help, he found secular AA on-line in 2018 and was able to avoid the conflict with religion and a mandatory belief in god that traditional AA insists on imposing on members. His home group is Beyond Belief Toronto and this month – December 2020 – he is two years sober.

---

 

The post Defining Recovery in AA in the 21st Century first appeared on AA Agnostica.

Whatever happened to the anti-alcohol movement?

By Olga Khazan
Posted on  January 14, 2020 on The Atlantic

Occasionally, Elizabeth Bruenig unleashes a tweet for which she knows she’s sure to get dragged: She admits that she doesn’t drink.

Bruenig, a columnist at The New York Times with a sizable social-media following, told me that it usually begins with her tweeting something mildly inflammatory and totally unrelated to alcohol – e.g., The Star Wars prequels are actually good. Someone will accuse her of being drunk. She, in turn, will clarify that she doesn’t drink, and that she’s never been drunk. Inevitably, people will criticize her. You’re really missing out, they might say. Why would you deny yourself?

As Bruenig sees it, however, there’s more to be gained than lost in abstaining. In fact, she supports stronger restrictions on alcohol sales. Alcohol’s effects on crime and violence, in her view, are cause to reconsider some cities’ and states’ permissive attitudes toward things such as open-container laws and where alcohol can be sold.

Breunig’s outlook harks back to a time when there was a robust public discussion about the role of alcohol in society. Today, warnings about the devil drink will win you few friends. Sure, it’s fine if you want to join Alcoholics Anonymous or cut back on drinking to help yourself, and people are happy to tell you not to drink and drive. But Americans tend to reject general anti-alcohol advocacy with a vociferousness typically reserved for IRS auditors and after-period double-spacers. Pushing for, say, higher alcohol taxes gets you treated like an uptight school marm. Or worse, a neo-prohibitionist.

Unlike in previous generations, hardly any formal organizations are pushing to reduce the amount that Americans drink. Some groups oppose marijuana (by many measures a much safer drug than alcohol), guns, porn, junk food, and virtually every other vice. Still, the main U.S. organizations I could track down that are by any definition anti-alcohol are Mothers Against Drunk Driving—which mainly focuses on just that—and a small nonprofit in California called Alcohol Justice. In a country where there is an interest group for everything, one of the biggest public-health threats is largely allowed a free pass. And there are deep historical and commercial reasons why.

Americans would be justified in treating alcohol with the same wariness they have toward other drugs. Beyond how it tastes and feels, there’s very little good to say about the health impacts of booze. The idea that a glass or two of red wine a day is healthy is now considered dubious. At best, slight heart-health benefits are associated with moderate drinking, and most health experts say you shouldn’t start drinking for the health benefits if you don’t drink already. As one major study recently put it, “Our results show that the safest level of drinking is none.”

Alcohol’s byproducts wreak havoc on the cells, raising the risk of liver disease, heart failure, dementia, seven types of cancer, and fetal alcohol syndrome. Just this month, researchers reported that the number of alcohol-related deaths in the United States more than doubled in two decades, going up to 73,000 in 2017. As the journalist Stephanie Mencimer wrote in a 2018 Mother Jones article, alcohol-related breast cancer kills more than twice as many American women as drunk drivers do. Many people drink to relax, but it turns out that booze isn’t even very good at that. It seems to have a boomerang effect on anxiety, soothing it at first but bringing it roaring back later.

Despite these grim statistics, Americans embrace and encourage drinking far more than they do similar vices. Alcohol is the one drug almost universally accepted at social gatherings that routinely kills people. Cigarette smoking remains responsible for the deaths of nearly 500,000 Americans each year, but the number of smokers has been dropping for decades. And few companies could legally stock a work happy hour with joints and bongs, which have never caused a lethal overdose, but many bosses ply their workers with alcohol, which can be poisonous in large quantities.

America arrived at this point in part because the end of Prohibition took the wind out of the sails of temperance groups. When the nation’s 13-year ban on alcohol ended in 1933, alcohol control was left up to states and municipalities to regulate. (This is why there are now dry counties and states where you can’t buy alcohol in grocery stores.) At the national level, anti-alcohol efforts were “tainted with an aura of failure,” writes the wine historian Rod Phillips in Alcohol: A History. Membership in the Woman’s Christian Temperance Union, the original prohibitionist group, declined from more than 2 million in 1920 to fewer than half a million in 1940. Some Christian groups continued to push for restrictions on things such as liquor advertising throughout the ’40s and ’50s. But eventually alcohol dropped off as a major national political issue and was eclipsed by President Richard Nixon’s war on drugs such as marijuana and heroin.

This dearth of anti-alcohol advocacy was met with a gradual shift in the way Americans began to view alcoholism—and with commercial interests that were ready to step into the breach. When Alcoholics Anonymous was founded in 1935, it portrayed alcoholism as a disease rather than a moral scourge on society, says Aaron Cowan, a history professor at Slippery Rock University, in Pennsylvania. (In time, the medical community would come to agree with the idea of alcohol abuse as a medical disorder.) By emphasizing individual rather than social reform, the organization helped cement the idea that the problem was not alcohol writ large, but the small percentage of people who could not drink alcohol without becoming addicted. The thinking became, If you have a problem with alcohol, why don’t you get help? Why ruin everyone else’s fun?

Of course, many people have a normal relationship with alcohol, which has been a fixture of social life since the time of the Sumerians and ancient Egyptians. But today, what actually constitutes a “normal” relationship with alcohol can be difficult to determine, because Americans’ views have been influenced by decades of careful marketing and lobbying efforts. Specifically, beer, wine, and spirit manufacturers have repeatedly tried to normalize and exculpate drinking. “The alcohol industry has done a great job of marketing the product, of funding university research looking at the benefits of alcohol, and using its influence to frame the issue as one of ‘The problem is hazardous drinking, and as long as you drink safely, you’re fine,’” says Michael Siegel, a professor of community health sciences at Boston University.

During World War II, the brewing industry recast beer as a “moderate beverage” that was good for soldiers’ morale. One United States Brewers’ Foundation ad from 1944 depicts a soldier writing home to his sweetheart and dreaming of enjoying a glass of beer in his backyard hammock. “By the end of the war, the wine industry, the distilled-spirits industry, and the brewing industry had really defined themselves as part of the American fabric of life,” says Lisa Jacobson, a history professor at the University of California at Santa Barbara.

In later decades, beer companies created the Alcoholic Beverage Medical Research Foundation, now called the Foundation for Alcohol Research, which proceeded to give research grants to scientists, some of whom found health benefits to drinking. More recently, the National Institutes of Health shut down a study on the effects of alcohol after The New York Times reported that it was funded by alcohol companies. (George Koob, the director of the National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism, told the Times that the foundation through which the funds were channeled is a type of “firewall” that prevents interference from donors.)

Meanwhile, the National Beer Wholesalers Association, which is listed as the top campaign contributor to political candidates in the “beer, wine, and liquor” category by the Center for Responsive Politics, has lobbied for a bill that would, among other things, reduce excise taxes on beer and spirits.

(In an email, the NBWA spokeswoman Lauren Kane said, “The alcohol industry has varying views when it comes to regulation, but NBWA will continue to advocate for laws and policies that support public health and safety through thoughtful, common-sense alcohol regulation led by the states.”)

A few temperance organizations are still out there, says Mark Schrad, a political-science professor at Villanova University, but they’re more active in Europe. Alcohol Justice, the California nonprofit, supports tighter limits on alcohol sales and advertising. But Bruce Lee Livingston, the group’s executive director, says that because many nonprofits are dependent on state, federal, and county grants, it’s difficult for the group to lobby policy makers. And nonprofits’ forces are dwarfed by the firepower of the alcohol industry. “Alcohol has, to a large extent, been abandoned by foundations and certainly is not funded by direct corporate donations, so alcohol prevention as a field of advocacy is very limited,” Livingston says.

The way Bruenig sees it, pop culture tends to depict society as split between “good guys” who just want to have fun and “bad guys” who want to destroy all the fun. If you’re someone who calls alcohol into question, she said, “you get kind of recruited against your will into this anti-fun agenda.”

Regardless of how much Americans love to drink, the country could be safer and healthier if we treated booze more like we treat cigarettes. The lack of serious discussion about raising alcohol prices or limiting its sale speaks to all the ground Americans have ceded to the “good guys” who have fun. And judging by the health statistics, we’re amusing ourselves to death.

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The post America’s Favorite Poison first appeared on AA Agnostica.

Chapter 8:
Do Tell! Stories by Atheists and Agnostics in AA

Suzanne M.

My name is Suzanne. I am an atheist alcoholic. I came into AA at 54 years old – totally worn-down after 37 years of drinking. I chose my first group because it was only a short walk from where I lived. It had a strong Christian ethic and – as I now realise – a very fundamentalist approach to the programme. They even included the Lord’s Prayer at meetings, which is most unusual in the UK. After six weeks of attending those meetings I was still sober (good) but found that meetings were like a dose of unpleasant medicine (bad) so I switched to another group. I chose this next group because, again, it was only a short walk – in the other direction – from my home. Astonishingly, this meeting, too, had the Lord’s Prayer. A freakish coincidence.

With the Serenity Prayer and the Lord’s Prayer in the same meeting I felt that something was wrong, but that I should keep quiet about it. I can’t say that I was aggressively atheist at the time. The Christian faith does not play a large part in the everyday life of most Brits so we are hardly ever required to express an opinion on it. It just seemed very strange that it was thrusting itself into my consciousness in my new venture of AA meetings. The references to “God”, “He” and “Him” felt like a strange throwback to the unthinking acceptance of Christian mythology of my childhood Sunday School days.

Strangely though, someone at that meeting introduced me to the Richard Dawkins book The God Delusion. Reading that was a light bulb moment. I switched groups again, and found one – walking distance again – which included an openly atheist member! This was progress. But I must say that, although I was beginning to think the unthinkable myself, there was always the very frightening and overwhelmingly loud voice of many people in the fellowship who would tell me it was wrong to go behind the text of the Big Book or to question what it meant. Also that it was wrong to question why we say prayers to God in meetings or why the Big Book constantly refers to God. And the punch line was always, “If you continue to question the programme in that way, you will drink again.” People would say “It’s a programme of honesty” but they would also say – bizarrely – “Fake it to make it”. I feel very uncomfortable faking a belief that a magical father-figure was managing my sobriety.

I tried for a long time to just keep my mouth shut in the face of people insisting that the words of the Big Book are inviolable and that we should not probe behind their meaning or teachings. But the rebel in me comes out once a year when I do my birthday share at my present home group. I feel that on that occasion I am allowed to express my honest opinion about how I got sobriety and how I keep it. What I say is that, for me, AA is as good as the people who are in it. It is the human fellowship of AA that keeps me sober. I can find no evidence, in my sobriety, of an interfering god who has played a part in it.

So last year, seven years into sobriety, and always with a nagging doubt lurking in my mind that there was something not quite right, or not quite honest, about my sobriety, I decided to be brave (or to put my sobriety at risk, as I was darkly warned) and work out what I really could accept from the Big Book and the programme, and what I could leave. I looked at the AA Agnostica website for the first time, and it was a breath of fresh air. People were confidently, and rationally, saying there things which I did not dare to utter because of the power of the BB Taliban. It is strange – Christian overtones are not unduly burdensome in most UK meetings (or maybe I, like many others, have learned to zone-out when they arise).

But I personally class religious beliefs alongside fairy stories, and I feel uncomfortable when fairy-stories and superstition are peddled as being an essential part of recovery. I have occasionally wondered what would happen if I announced at a meeting that it was the fairies who kept me sober. Would people respect my belief?

It is a delicate balance. Neither I nor other non-believers want to bring down AA. I know that it is AA, not Smart Recovery or any other similar structure that keeps me sober. AA works for me. But I worry for the next generation of alcoholics. In my early days I read the Big Book four times in a short period, hoping that it would transfer itself into my brain by osmosis and make me sober. I had misgivings about the tone of condescension toward women and non-Christians, and about the dated language and images, but mostly about the overtly Christian tone of the text. Yet it has taken me seven years to find my own voice and my confidence to challenge the prevailing dogma. People ask why most newcomers attend one meeting and never come back. Possibly it is because they are just not ready for it. But I also guess that the sight of all those references to God in the 12 Step wall-hanging, together with the references to God in the readings, are enough to make many newcomers think they have stumbled into a cult and so they run away.

As I write this I am in the process of setting up a Freethinkers/Atheist group in my home town in the UK. There are only four or five such groups in the whole of the UK, as far as I can tell. I want a group where people, newcomers especially, can speak truthfully about their interpretation of the AA programme. I want AA to adapt, modernise and survive. People look pityingly at me when I raise these issues – they seem to suggest that I am making this fuss because I am angry or afraid. I have given it a lot of thought. I find that the discomfort I feel in quietly acquiescing to something I think is false is in itself a disturbance to my sobriety.

I hope, when the new group starts, that AA in the UK can tolerate a tiny wind of change.

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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 Programme of Honesty? first appeared on AA Agnostica.

Chapter 8:
Do Tell! Stories by Atheists and Agnostics in AA

Suzanne M.

My name is Suzanne. I am an atheist alcoholic. I came into AA at 54 years old – totally worn-down after 37 years of drinking. I chose my first group because it was only a short walk from where I lived. It had a strong Christian ethic and – as I now realise – a very fundamentalist approach to the programme. They even included the Lord’s Prayer at meetings, which is most unusual in the UK. After six weeks of attending those meetings I was still sober (good) but found that meetings were like a dose of unpleasant medicine (bad) so I switched to another group. I chose this next group because, again, it was only a short walk – in the other direction – from my home. Astonishingly, this meeting, too, had the Lord’s Prayer. A freakish coincidence.

With the Serenity Prayer and the Lord’s Prayer in the same meeting I felt that something was wrong, but that I should keep quiet about it. I can’t say that I was aggressively atheist at the time. The Christian faith does not play a large part in the everyday life of most Brits so we are hardly ever required to express an opinion on it. It just seemed very strange that it was thrusting itself into my consciousness in my new venture of AA meetings. The references to “God”, “He” and “Him” felt like a strange throwback to the unthinking acceptance of Christian mythology of my childhood Sunday School days.

Strangely though, someone at that meeting introduced me to the Richard Dawkins book The God Delusion. Reading that was a light bulb moment. I switched groups again, and found one – walking distance again – which included an openly atheist member! This was progress. But I must say that, although I was beginning to think the unthinkable myself, there was always the very frightening and overwhelmingly loud voice of many people in the fellowship who would tell me it was wrong to go behind the text of the Big Book or to question what it meant. Also that it was wrong to question why we say prayers to God in meetings or why the Big Book constantly refers to God. And the punch line was always, “If you continue to question the programme in that way, you will drink again.” People would say “It’s a programme of honesty” but they would also say – bizarrely – “Fake it to make it”. I feel very uncomfortable faking a belief that a magical father-figure was managing my sobriety.

I tried for a long time to just keep my mouth shut in the face of people insisting that the words of the Big Book are inviolable and that we should not probe behind their meaning or teachings. But the rebel in me comes out once a year when I do my birthday share at my present home group. I feel that on that occasion I am allowed to express my honest opinion about how I got sobriety and how I keep it. What I say is that, for me, AA is as good as the people who are in it. It is the human fellowship of AA that keeps me sober. I can find no evidence, in my sobriety, of an interfering god who has played a part in it.

So last year, seven years into sobriety, and always with a nagging doubt lurking in my mind that there was something not quite right, or not quite honest, about my sobriety, I decided to be brave (or to put my sobriety at risk, as I was darkly warned) and work out what I really could accept from the Big Book and the programme, and what I could leave. I looked at the AA Agnostica website for the first time, and it was a breath of fresh air. People were confidently, and rationally, saying there things which I did not dare to utter because of the power of the BB Taliban. It is strange – Christian overtones are not unduly burdensome in most UK meetings (or maybe I, like many others, have learned to zone-out when they arise).

But I personally class religious beliefs alongside fairy stories, and I feel uncomfortable when fairy-stories and superstition are peddled as being an essential part of recovery. I have occasionally wondered what would happen if I announced at a meeting that it was the fairies who kept me sober. Would people respect my belief?

It is a delicate balance. Neither I nor other non-believers want to bring down AA. I know that it is AA, not Smart Recovery or any other similar structure that keeps me sober. AA works for me. But I worry for the next generation of alcoholics. In my early days I read the Big Book four times in a short period, hoping that it would transfer itself into my brain by osmosis and make me sober. I had misgivings about the tone of condescension toward women and non-Christians, and about the dated language and images, but mostly about the overtly Christian tone of the text. Yet it has taken me seven years to find my own voice and my confidence to challenge the prevailing dogma. People ask why most newcomers attend one meeting and never come back. Possibly it is because they are just not ready for it. But I also guess that the sight of all those references to God in the 12 Step wall-hanging, together with the references to God in the readings, are enough to make many newcomers think they have stumbled into a cult and so they run away.

As I write this I am in the process of setting up a Freethinkers/Atheist group in my home town in the UK. There are only four or five such groups in the whole of the UK, as far as I can tell. I want a group where people, newcomers especially, can speak truthfully about their interpretation of the AA programme. I want AA to adapt, modernise and survive. People look pityingly at me when I raise these issues – they seem to suggest that I am making this fuss because I am angry or afraid. I have given it a lot of thought. I find that the discomfort I feel in quietly acquiescing to something I think is false is in itself a disturbance to my sobriety.

I hope, when the new group starts, that AA in the UK can tolerate a tiny wind of change.

---

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 Programme of Honesty? first appeared on AA Agnostica.