Why Alcoholics Anonymous Will Soon Be Dead

by Bobby Freaken Beach

If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

If you’ve been around longer than a few weeks, you’ve probably heard that one a few times, or more than a few. Why do people say that? The simplest answer is they have heard other people say it. Basically, it’s just assumed to be true. Pretty much anytime AA is criticized or some change is suggested “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” gets trotted out. Is supporting evidence of the “not-brokenness” ever offered? Oh yeah. “Statistics” get trotted out such as: “Rarely have we seen a person fail….” and “Of those who really tried…”

Let me stop you right there, Bobby Beach! I studied statistics at a very fine university and those are not statistics! 

Calm down, Grasshopper. I know that. Bobby Beach recognizes crappola when it’s flung at him!

The pinheads spewing fake stat Number One will also tell you that Willie Wilson favored only one change to the Bigga Booka. “Rarely” should be changed to “Nev-uh.” “Nev-uh have we seen a person fail who has thoroughly followed our path…”

We don’t want to oversell the AA program but it’s flawless!

AA does have some numbers – membership estimates – and according to those figures, AA is very broken. After years of impressive growth, membership peaked in 1992 at 2,489,541. The last number showing on aa.org is 2021’s 1,967,613. That 20% drop is more impactful still when one considers a population increase of about 30% during the same time frame. We can debate the cause(s), but AA is not doing well.

Let’s look back at some of our early history.

AA’s Bigga Booka went on sale on April 10, 1939. The working title had been One Hundred Men but the presence of Florence Rankin, sober for about a year, caused a review of that name. The group conscience then voted for A Way Out but there were (supposedly) several books bearing that name. Besides, Bill Wilson wanted the name Alcoholics Anonymous.

It’s commonly said that the fellowship took its name from the book but that isn’t true. There are 1938 letters using the name “Alcoholics Anonymous” to identify the group, many months before the book was named. Bill Wilson was “acting as if” that were the agreed-upon name. Pretty clever, actually. The One Hundred Men Corporation Prospectus, also crafted in 1938, used the name “Alcoholics Anonymous” as a header on every page – a sort of letterhead.

What was the One Hundred Men Corporation, Bobby?

That was the private publishing company that owned the Bigga Booka.

But AA self-published their book. AA owned it, right?

Not so, Pollyanna. St. Bill and Evil Hank sold about 200 shares to finance Hank and the office through the writing of the book and doled out 200 shares each to themselves. Some loans from Charles Towns carried Bill to the publication date. The book was going to bring huge rewards to the shareholders! They got it printed for 34 cents a copy, then retailed it for $3,50!

Wow!!! That’s a HUGE markup!!!

Indeed, Candide.

Why do you call Hank “Evil Hank,” Bobby?

Because Hank returned to drinking and it’s just smart business to blame all the bad stuff on the guy who’s not around to defend himself. Read “AA Comes of Age” where Bill W. makes himself look like a turnip farmer from Nebraska as Hank spearheaded the money-making schemes!

In William Schaberg’s remarkable 2019 offering Writing The Big Book: The Creation of AA, Bill Wilson is called a “mythmaker” in the early pages. Many of the classic AA stories – tales that have been repeated hundreds of thousands of times – have been shown to be factually inaccurate. Schaberg reviewed thousands of pieces of contemporary documentation before coming to his conclusions which were neither the result of speculation nor the spewing of resentment from an angry agnostic. Bill is agnostic but not at all anti-AA. He does agree that the literature needs to be rewritten.

In any case, AA isn’t falling apart because of Bill Wilson’s fudging of some stories three generations ago.

Let’s return to Florence Rankin.

AA was a men’s club created by men for men. Because of Florence the One Hundred Men title was jettisoned. Did that make AA co-ed? Not really. We have Bob Smith’s post-book remarks reported in Dr. Bob and the Good Oldtimers: “We have never had a woman. We will not work with a woman.” Every minority group has had to fight for its seats at the 12-step recovery banquet. Chapter 8 of AA’s Bigga Booka is addressed to spouses and is titled TO WIVES.

Although women alcoholics had a tiny presence, a case could be made that the chapter directed at the spouses of alcoholics and its title had some 1939 validity. Florence was divorced so there was no spouse who was a husband. If one forgives all involved for having ZERO foresight that AA would not maintain its boys’ club atmosphere, one can forgive the title TO WIVES in 1939. Yes, even that is a stretch, for sure.

Why is TO WIVES still the title in 2024? That’s a much tougher question.

Women form a significant percentage of the AA membership in the modern era – in the range of 36-38%. Their nonalcoholic husbands have a chapter directed to them. It’s called TO WIVES. There are hundreds of thousands of men being called wives.

But Bobby, that’s just stupid!

Yes, Grasshopper, it surely is, and that’s why AA is doomed to arrive at a point of complete irrelevancy in the very near future. We’ve moved a long way from the world of Ward, June, Wally and the Beav, and even further from the 1930s. And yet, AA repeatedly refuses to freaken change anything!!!

By the way, it has already been decided that the Fifth Edition Bigga Booka is coming with no real modification other than to the story section. TO WIVES in all its misogynistic glory will be with us for at least another 20 years. Not that that’s all that is wrong with the book, but TO WIVES provides an absolutely glaring example of the powerful voice against change in AA. Hundreds of thousands of partners of alcoholic women in AA have a chapter called TO WIVES.

Why won’t they at least change the title Bobby Beach??

Well, my Inquisitive One, that’s one of some very small changes that we’ll see in November in the Plain Language Big Book, primarily designed to make the AA book more understandable and relatable to readers with limited reading skills. 

Some of the 1939 idiom will be modified. This isn’t even the sacred Bigga Booka being altered, but a percentage of members are losing their freaking minds. The ragers seem to be particularly miffed that TO WIVES is being changed to TO PARTNERS. The source of that distress is made clear by the fact that these same folks also vehemently oppose the recent Preamble change from “men and women” to “people.” For the more outspoken, this is said to mark the entry of “woke” politics into Alcoholics Anonymous. The GSO is viewed, by many, as having a “progressive” agenda that is at odds with the mainstream membership. Lordy! Lordy!

In any case, there is a widely held sentiment against changing anything. How does a 30 year-old prospect regard the Bigga Book, the prayer at meetings, the preachy sharers, the mindless chanting, the chitty coffee?

Will the reaction be better in 10 years? 15? 20?

Of course not.

The 2022 and 2023 member numbers have not been released. Surely we have those by now. They can’t be good. What will the 2026 membership count look like? 1.5 million? AA is a lot like community theater – you see so many elderly patrons, you have to worry about the future. As the AA geezers die off, will younger peeps queue up to take their seats? Not freaken likely!

I predict that secular AA will sever itself in the not-too-distant future. ZOOM changes the reality that we are still relatively small. The LGBTQ+ folks might do the same. Why keep going where you’re not welcomed? Those dissing the new Preamble send a message that is not ambiguous.

Are you saying we should abandon ship, Bobby?

It’s going down, My Friend. Every opportunity to get with the times has been rejected. AA’s death is essentially self-inflicted. The shrinking mutual aid society refuses to change a freaken thing!


Bobby Beach has contributed many essays to aaagnostica.org. Many have been feisty but we’ve never seen him so disenchanted. Lordy! Lordy! Indeed!


For a PDF of this article, click here: Why Alcoholics Anonymous Will Soon Be Dead.


 

The post Why Alcoholics Anonymous Will Soon Be Dead first appeared on AA Agnostica.

Quitting Alcohol

By Harry C.

When I first came to AA in December 1986, I didn’t have a clear understanding of what AA actually was but I knew it was about dealing with a drink problem, surely obvious by the title: “Alcoholics Anonymous”! I had a brother in NY who’d been in AA for 19 years and he was still “not drinking” but that’s as much as I knew of the place or how it functioned. Drinking, drunkenness and resulting damage was the way of life that I’d grown up with living in the 2-up tenement “bed & kitchen” in Glasgow, where  I was  born.

I was the youngest of three, 51/2 years between Margaret and I and 5 years between my sister and my brother Frank. Wee Elky was our Da and you never knew whether he’d be drunk or sober, but you knew for certain that he’d more than likely come in drunk and chaos would ensue. Week in, week out, and every weekend in life. I never had much to do with the Clark’s, I was always with my Ma’s side of the family. I have always been closer to the Flannigan side, and although my Ma never drank throughout her life, the Flannigan side had its fair share of problem drinkers!

One Flannigan cousin came to AA in Glasgow, another gave the booze up for decades but never came to AA, and another came to AA in Hamilton, Canada, after emigrating there. All male, all different families, and the fourth Flannigan uncle had girls, no sons, and none of the girls found their way into AA. My brother went to NY aged 19/20 and went to AA there aged 30. He’s still going and 57 years sober today. My sis followed to NY a few years later and tragically passed there in 1988. She wouldn’t come over for Elky’s funeral in 1972; she hated what he put us through with his drunken behaviour. Then there’s me. I drank for 20 years, knew I had problems with insecurity and resentments, easily identified in “jealousy and control”, and “why me” issues, but knew for many years that I had a problem with drunkenness.

I loved to drink and always loved the feeling of “ease and comfort” that drinking gave me. I knew at age 38 that if I didn’t deal with my drinking problem, that my ability to deal with my other problems would be negligible; my jealousy and anger were always manifest at some point in my drunkenness. It appeared impossible to control my behaviours when I was drunk; words and actions flowed with the drink.

I grew up in a constant state of fear and anxiety. Shame developed as I developed and I became aware of the poverty of limited privacy, poor hygiene, and tenement living with no hot water, a shared outside toilet, and a chronic alcoholic father that the neighbours below, above and next door could hear! Doctor Mate has given children such as I a name: a Child of Trauma. I bed wet until aged 12 and got my first toothbrush on my first trip to visit my siblings in NY aged 13/14. I got my first shower too at my sisters after being ill on the plane and came out wrapped in a towel and shivering; I didn’t know there was hot water I could turn on.

It is absolutely no surprise to me of the power of alcohol on me when I first drank. The “right of passage” at age 18 when walking into the pub and being served. The realization that I wasn’t drunk after those first 2 pints of lager, and the absolute choice that I made there and then that this new feeling of excitement and freedom was for me! From “fear and anxiety” to “ease and comfort” and I found the answer the more I went to the pub and the more I drank as my tolerance to drink grew. I was truly seduced by alcohol and who’d not want to rid themselves of always being fearful, watching what you do and what you say, needing the approval of others; who’d not want the sense of freedom that you can act and say spontaneously without having to edit yourself first!

The years passed, life happened to me, and my lifestyle was built around “the pub”. I’d enjoy the first pint, “Ah feck it”; by the sixth pint it was becoming “feck you!”; and when into double figures, “feck yous all, I need no one”! Then the resulting unintended consequences had once again to be faced and dealt with. Alcoholism had me and inevitably I’d prefer to drink again than accept the responsibility that I’d promised to take.

Crisis led me to call the Samaritans and they pointed me to AA.

When I phoned AA I told them I’d go to a Meeting myself and did so. I had no idea what to expect. I asked the guy at the Church door if there was an AA meeting there. He asked if this was my first Meeting and led me inside and introduced me. The welcome was warm, the people inquisitive and accepting, but I was anything but forthcoming. I was scanning the set up and the Scrolls. They announced they would focus on the First Step as Mr. Newcomer was there. I cringed every time Mr. Newcomer was referenced.

There was talk of God and the need for a Higher Power and then Wee Peter responded. He was an older guy with two sticks and an atheist with no need for a God. Wonderful, relief! I was an atheist and his declaration kept the door open for me.

I was an Alien in AA not knowing the language, the rituals and protocols, and not knowing if this AA could help me. But I felt the warmth of the intentions of those present towards helping me, I listened to the changed lives that AA had given those that spoke, and I realised that if Peter could stay sober and come along when he didn’t believe in God then maybe it may be able to help me. I got hope. That welcome and hope I got did the trick and for the next week I didn’t drink and I came back again the following Monday.

In spite of many trials and tribulations throughout my years of trudging, I’ve never drank again since going to AA, hence never been drunk again; never found any Dog or Higher Power that I can honestly say I’ve ever understood, and I went looking. I still regularly engage in the fellowship within AA to help maintain my choice to live a sober life. Since learning to live an abstinent life, the obsession dwindled away over time and I’ve developed a solution to my drunken experiences I previously encountered that led me to seek help through AA. I live with my solution, abstinence from alcohol and engaging with my AA friends for giving and receiving support.

To be clear: I don’t engage intentionally in any AA Steps; don’t engage with the Big Book in any way; never had a Sponsor; never sponsored; don’t pray nor “meditate”; I call myself an Atheist and don’t use the term “spiritual”; I have no love of religion.

There are so many variables in each life, so many experiences that have impacted us and influenced our frame of reference to our life and the world we live in. I have no idea how another person should choose how to live life. I’ve lived my life for the past 37+ years by choosing abstinence from booze and by never being too far removed from AA, one way or another. In this day and age we have Roger to thank for AA Agnostica and another way of giving and receiving through AA fellowship.


Harry is retired and worked for 17 years in local regeneration in Glasgow, Scotland. He lives with Christine his partner of 11 years outside Glasgow and is 76, but says he doesn’t look it! Happily divorced and living in sin but as an atheist he doesn’t worry about the sinning! He has only one brother and he lives in NY and between them they currently have 94 years of sobriety; Frank with 57 and Harry with 37. Loves to hear from his FB friends he met at ICSAA in Toronto. A skeptic at heart, he no longer attends Secular AA meetings but is still a regular attendee at his local meeting.


 

The post Quitting Alcohol first appeared on AA Agnostica.

I Am Different

By Keith C.

Hello, I’m Keith and I am an alcoholic and this is my story. Why start my story in such a strange way? Because as an alcoholic I have a disease of denial that tries to convince me I don’t have it. I need to remind myself, not you, that I am and always will be an alcoholic.

The alcohol industry uses a variety of tactics to make alcohol seem fun, cool, and even necessary. Alcohol is everywhere. It’s in our movies, our music, our TV shows, and most certainly our sporting events. Why I mention this is because as a kid I became very intrigued by this magical golden nectar. Of course they never mentioned the potential negative consequences. I don’t ever remember reading a warning label informing me that I might become addicted and my life would be a complete fiasco for decades. Not that I would have heeded to that information anyhow, because I always thought I was special. I was different.

They say there is fine line between a problem drinking and full-on alcoholism, but for me there wasn’t. I was never a normal drinker, nor even a problem drinker. I truly believe I was an alcoholic before I even had my first sip. So when I ponder the root cause of my addiction I believe it’s because I do everything alcoholically, it’s ingrained in me. I am a collect the whole set type of guy, one is never enough of anything I find appealing. A type of character defect or flaw if you will. My brain absolutely craves dopamine.

Few things are more American than drinking heavily. I found that to be true in my immediate family as my bloodlines are littered with alcoholism, but I also found that to be true in the neighborhood I grew up in and later in the United States Air Force and College. I just thought it was normal, because that was all I was ever exposed to. The whole drugs, rock ‘n’ roll, and hard drinking lifestyle also had this certain allure to my friends and myself. We thought we were cool. Looking back, I have a few other adjectives in mind.

When I try to explain my drinking problem, it goes like this: the more I drank, the more I wanted to drink. Drinking increased my thirst. I wanted the second drink more than the first, and I wanted the fifth more than I’d wanted the fourth. My thirst always increased over the course of an evening. But it also increased, in a more subtle way, over the course of a month, a year, a decade, a quarter century.

My relationship with alcohol became more and more abusive and I didn’t care because in my own odd way I was in love with a substance that was masked as a friend but at the same time destroying my life. I can now see how it had been poisoning not only my body but my mind and soul as well. I drank when I was happy; I drank when I was sad. I drank to celebrate and I drank to drown my sorrows. I drank when it was sunny. I drank when it rained. I just drank like a madman — because I was.

My whole world became a blur. At times it was almost as if I was running on auto pilot, occasionally trying to fool the people I came in contact with that I actually knew what planet I was trying to walk and pretend to function on. Yet, alcohol had masqueraded as the solution to the problems it actually created for me. It stunted and prohibited my growth in many other areas, especially emotional maturity and conflict resolution.

Booze was a thief of my time, memories, ambition and so much more. The more I drank, the more it stole. Relationships, jobs, cars, my summer camp, boats, even cats and a dog. But the greatest asset I had and nearly lost — was myself.

Drinking was my choice — addiction was not. Addiction had a hold on me. I was firmly in its grasp. The only way I was able to start my recovery journey was finally realizing it was a matter of life or death — and I had to make that choice. I was well aware that it was going to be a bit more complex than merely putting down the bottle, because I had already tried that before and it only works for so long. I needed a new strategy, and that had to start with willingness, an enthusiastic acceptance.

The Big Book describes the mental obsession as: “The idea that somehow, someday he will control and enjoy his drinking is the great obsession of every abnormal drinker. The persistence of this illusion is astonishing. Many pursue it into the gates of insanity or death.” That was also my illusion and I certainly gave it a whirl. Not surprisingly, the experiments all failed miserably. The love affair was over. I finally admitted I was powerless over alcohol — that my life had become unmanageable.

I knew that AA worked, as I had seen many people succeed and thrive in the program. I just never fully committed to it in my previous attempts, because I was convinced I was special and that many of the suggestions in the Big Book simply didn’t apply to me. This time around I was open minded. I was encouraged by another member of the fellowship to completely discard my illogical and delusional thinking and stop picking the book apart looking for flaws and getting stuck on the God part of it. He assured me that contrary to popular belief in the rooms, it was quite possible to maintain sobriety without the help of God. He said he was living proof.

For me to be truly successful in breaking the chains of alcoholism, I needed to be honest with myself. There would be no white lights illuminating my path. Nor would I claim to believe in someone else’s God, as that would mean I would be constitutionally incapable of being honest with myself.

You may be wondering how this happened? It was the fellowship, love, acceptance, encouragement and support that I found at Alcoholics Anonymous that changed my life for the better. The philosophy of the program is has points of pure genius. The storytelling aspect of the program is also very meaningful to me as I often hear my story spoken in the words of another or hear something that is thought provoking. It’s a powerful reminder that I do not walk alone, especially in the Secular/Agnostic/Freethinker Groups.

Sobriety is not a journey to an exciting new destination, but a return to my natural state. This is the place always intended for me to be and I like to call this place home.

I feel more connected to myself, others and life. I am becoming a person that I look forward to greeting each day. It has been most marked, I suppose, by the regaining of a certain childlike sense of wonder at the world. The magic of me is back, because today I walk with a sense of purpose.

I’m under no illusions. I am still an alcoholic, and I will always have work to do on myself. But within the four walls of the AA meeting halls, I learned how to change what I could and accept what I could not. I’m still gaining wisdom to know the difference.

I didn’t sign up to be an alcoholic, nor do I consider it among my greatest life accomplishments. However, it has given me a special gift, as I am able to lift others afflicted with the same deadly disease. That’s what makes us all different. That’s what makes us all special.


Keith C. had his last drink on August 22, 2020. He initially struggled in AA due to his agnosticism. Many members of the fellowship assured him that some magical white light moment would come his way. It never did. Today he has finally found his people via Zoom and is happy to report that he is in the process of helping create a much needed agnostic meeting in central New Hampshire. Keith operates an online shop called the Sobriety Club, specializing in unique, clever and special items to commemorate and provide inspiration for the recovery journey.


For a PDF of this article, click here: I Am Different.


 

The post I Am Different first appeared on AA Agnostica.

Acceptance, God and the 3rd Step

By Jason W.

Is accepting reality – acknowledging things the way they actually are, not how we think they should be – the same as a belief in God?

As an atheist, the 12 steps of AA were quite difficult early on, with some seemingly impossible for me to undertake.

For many non-theists, the 3rd step – “Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood him” – stands out as a non-starter.

For one, the word “God” (capital G) means something. It is how in the English language we describe a specific monotheistic deity. “Him” denotes this God to be masculine as is customary. To me, this is equivalent to people describing Big Foot as “Him” when the gender of something I don’t believe exists is irrelevant.

Just adding “as we understood him” doesn’t help much in that it is still asking us to define our own concept of a specific monotheistic deity.

One thing I’ve learned in my many years of sobriety is that the wording of the 12 steps is less important than the principles underlying the steps. One of the steps even states this when we are to “…practice these principles in all our affairs”.

In meetings we are told that we can choose our own idea of God, or even our own concept of a “higher power”. One would have to attend many AA meetings to comprehend the nuances of this concept and would have to disregard all of the other mentions of God in the Big Book that seem very specific.

There’s even a chapter that would seem to give hope to non-believers – We Agnostics. This chapter could be summarized as “some of us used to believe like you, but now we don’t. Keep coming back and eventually you will join us.” Seems very condescending to those who are fine with their current beliefs.

So why not just skip the God steps, or all of the steps?

Because the program of recovery in AA – the 12 steps – seem to work for many suffering alcoholics. I can personally attest that they worked for me.

For those who recover from alcoholism, the 12 steps seem to help elicit a spiritual awakening as defined in Appendix II of the Big Book – “…the personality change sufficient to bring about recovery from alcoholism”. Most members have no issues with the God stuff, so they attribute this personality change to their higher power, who most choose to call God.

Non-theist alcoholics who find sobriety in AA must also have this personality change. If they didn’t, I suspect they’d return to drinking. As the saying goes, “if I do what I did, I’ll get what I got”. The way we see the world and our place in it must change or we will fall back to what we did in the past.

Back to step 3. The underlying principle of this step for me is faith. A faith that works under all circumstances. This is important for alcoholics because when life throws us challenges or a catastrophe, having faith that we can get through it without having to resort to oblivion from that first drink helps us stay sober.

There is wisdom in the saying “there’s nothing so bad that a drink won’t make worse”.  For alcoholics, this is certainly true.

This faith, not that everything will be ok (sometimes it’s not), not that whatever happened was meant to be (too mystical), but faith that we will be able accept circumstances without resorting to the first drink is vitally important for long-term sobriety.

Our theistic brethren get this same faith, but they have something they can attribute it to – God. They get to acceptance with the help of their higher power with thoughts such as “it must be God’s will”, or “God knows what’s best for me”, or “God will see me through this without having to take a drink”, etc. The end result is acceptance of the way things are.

Theistic or not, both can stay sober with their individual brand of a faith, and most in AA would point to the 3rd step as to where they got this faith.

For me, turning my will and life over to my higher power, who I choose to call Reality, is simply striving to align my thinking with the way things are. Not how I think they are. Or worse, how I think they should be.

This gives me a faith that works under all circumstances, but I often need to remind myself:

Something is bothering me – It is what it is.

My past is holding me back – It was what it was.

The future concerns me – It will be what it will be.

For my theistic friends in AA – it is, was, or will be God’s will.

The outcome for both of us is the same.  Continued sobriety.


Jason W. has been sober since May 30, 1988. He credits getting sober at an early age due to experiencing the effects of alcoholism growing up and developing the “phenomenon of craving” from his first drunk. While admitting to another person that he was an alcoholic at 18, in his 18 year-old brain this meant he would probably have to quit drinking in his 50’s. The thought of not drinking was out of the question. Consequences caused an early surrender at 23. Always an atheist, AA didn’t seem like an option due to the “god stuff”, but the people he met in the early meetings he attended seemed happily sober and their lives were improving so he kept coming back and found a path to sobriety. He started the first We Agnostics meeting in Dayton, Oh in 2014, and another secular AA meeting in 2022. Thanks to sobriety and the wisdom he garnered in AA, he has been able to become a successful entrepreneur, a father of two, and a friend to many.


For a PDF of this article, click here: Acceptance, God and the 3rd Step.


 

The post Acceptance, God and the 3rd Step first appeared on AA Agnostica.

The Magical Mystery Tour

By Roger C.

There are many things over my lifetime that have led me to understand that life is indeed a Magical Mystery Tour.

My earliest memory is when I was nine years old. I remember being in my back yard with a somewhat older boy  and girl. He said to her: “You know a baby can be born in your belly, don’t you? And it will be in your belly for nine months.” She nodded. I hadn’t known that that is how humans were born. I was totally stunned. Later on I learned how women became pregnant. My reaction: that too to me is a mystery. Indeed. And I have always considered it a bizarre, and magical, mystery.

My mother was a very religious person. We went to church every Sunday. And I attended a Catholic school, and recited the Lord’s Prayer every morning. Finally, at the age of nineteen, I quit believing in a God. None of the God stuff made any sense to me. A God, a Heaven, a Hell and a Purgatory?

If I was a good enough person when I died, would I be in purgatory for years and years and in Heaven for an eternity? That made zero sense at all to me.

In order to better understand all of this I ended up getting a BA (Laurentian University) and an MA (McGill University) in Religious Studies. In all those years in the universities there was zero evidence of the existence of a God. So these days when I go for a walk why do I see so many churches? Makes no sense to me at all. It strikes me as a key ingredient of the insanity of humanity.

Around that time of my life, I began drinking a lot. I became an alcoholic. At the time it was the solution to the pollution of my life. I didn’t particularly like my life so I created the booze solution.

Well, of course, it made my life worse. Much worse. And this lasted until I was sixty.

Over that time I ruined two marriages and both ended in divorces. I had blackouts. I drove my car even when I was drunk. One day I got a DUI and my brother sent me to a rehab facility. I finally realized that drinking was absolutely ruining my life. I had to stop. And it is only when an alcoholic understands that he or she has to stop drinking that it will actually happen and his or her life will then be truly better. So, I quit drinking on March 8th, 2010 – some fourteen years ago.

At that time I started going to AA meetings. But, frankly, it turned out that I couldn’t stand them. There was too much God stuff. The Big Book – often a part of traditional AA meetings – refers to God (or Him, etc.) 281 times in its first 164 pages. And its 12 Steps refer to God six times. And how do most of these meetings end? Well, with the Lord’s Prayer. Not only that, I was told at these meetings that if I didn’t believe in a God I wouldn’t stay sober. Traditional meetings claim that they are not religious. The only proper and relevant answer to that: bullshit. Pushing the God on people and doing the Lord’s Prayer is religion.

At around that time, I was able to find a secular AA meeting launched by Joe C. (author of the book Beyond Belief) and I began going to it every Thursday and Saturday. It is called Beyond Belief Agnostics and Freethinkers. I loved the meeting. After attending it for only six months and being roughly one year sober, the meeting was booted out of AA in 2011. Why? Because we used a secular version of the 12 Steps! We were booted out by the Greater Toronto Area Intergroup (GTAI) because there was no God in our Steps. And it took six years until the GTAI was forced to allow our group back in to their list of Alcoholics Anonymous groups.

God! As a child I had had God pushed on me and then again as an alcoholic in recovery at the age of 60 at traditional AA meetings and then our secular AA meeting is booted out of Alcoholics Anonymous. My reaction to all of this: God dammit!

When we were booted out of AA in 2011 that is exactly when and why this website was created. The website was active for 11 years – posting a total of 742 articles written by people from around the world – with the last one posted in mid-June 2022. And then after two years, we decided to post articles again! One every week for a year with the first one on June 16th, 2024.

Let me also mention that when AA Agnostica was active, a number of books were published. Here are three of them (more information about each is available on this website):

And why were they published? Well, when I got sober in 2010  there were very few books about recovery from alcoholism that I found helpful. As I mentioned earlier, for me the Big Book has way too much God stuff. I didn’t enjoy reading it, especially the We Agnostics chapter. And that’s why I published a number of books, one of them being The Little Book. It has twenty mostly secular versions of the 12 Steps, four interpretations of each of the Steps – by people like Gabor Maté whose most recent book is The Myth of Normal and Stephanie Covington whose book is A Woman’s Way Through the Twelve Steps – and finally an essay I wrote called The Origins of the 12 Steps.

I also got permission from the authors, Martha and Arlys, to republish The Alternative 12 Steps, which was originally published way back in 1991. It is a very popular book, as it should be.

And I have published two books by my friend, bob k, the fellow who taught me and my wife how to play golf! One of those books is called Key Players in AA History. The first edition was published in 2015 and an updated second edition was published in 2023. It is a very well researched history of the founders and early members of Alcoholics Anonymous.

Okay, let’s get back to the Magical Mystery Tour!

When I am outside I am stunned by what I see. I simply can’t believe that there are so many different trees and flowers. How many kinds of trees are there? There are over 73,000 different kinds of trees! And flowers. How many different flowers? Well, there are over 400,000 different flowers on planet earth! A staggering number that, at the very least, evokes awe.

I also end up staring at the clouds, the sun and, later in the day, the moon. It’s all a part of living on Planet Earth. And there are also the cosmos, the universe and galaxies. As Salwa Salah, a philosopher, put it:

Some estimates suggest that there could be as many as 10 trillion galaxies in the universe, with each galaxy containing billions of stars. It’s an awe-inspiring thought to consider just how vast and incomprehensible the universe really is.

Incomprehensible indeed.

So, finally, this question: what do I think living my life is all about? That’s the question I asked myself way back then, when I was 19 years old and quit believing in a deity. Well, I’m going to be silly and mention my favourite band, The Beatles. Life to me is well described in the name of one of their albums, an album released in November, 1967. It’s a Magical Mystery Tour. Surprisingly I enjoy each and every day. It’s my tour. The magical mystery one. And the title of the last song on the album is “All You Need Is Love.”

I agree. That’s no doubt one of the best parts of the magical mystery tour of life.


For a PDF of this article, click here: The Magical Mystery Tour.


 

The post The Magical Mystery Tour first appeared on AA Agnostica.

Long Term Sobriety

By Jeanine B.

When friends and I talk about long-term sobriety, we inevitably ask, “How did we get here?” Of course, the pat answer is “one day at a time,” but truly, none of us really expected to a) live this long and b) stay sober for the long haul.

That was certainly the case for me. I sometimes tongue-in-cheek say that I came in to recovery on the 30-day plan, to save a relationship with a man who’d already married someone else. I can make light of it today, but there was a lot of pain in the understanding that he wasn’t coming back, whether I was sober or not, and that I needed to do the work of sobriety and healing for myself, not some imagined prize. How did I want to live my life, not just exist? How could I stay sober when everything felt so new and a little scary and I felt so alone? But of course, I wasn’t alone, and in the fellowship of AA I was able to connect with people who drank just like I did, and more importantly, applied the recovery principles in a similar manner. It was a matter of finding my tribe within the greater community, which still applies today.

And if you’d told me back then that I’d earn a couple of college degrees, run marathons, eventually meet and marry a great guy (and become a step-mom in the process), walk with my mother on her end-of-life journey, retire after thirty years in a career I enjoyed – I probably would’ve run screaming down the street to the nearest bar because I wasn’t capable of even imagining the life I’ve lived thus far. Thank goodness, life on life’s terms shows up one day at a time.

What I know today is that the disease is progressive, but so is recovery, and here I am, 38 years clean and sober, coming up on my 70th birthday. Wow – who blinked? I spoke with an 82-year-old neighbor last week, who’s hoping for another 10 years. We both agreed that if the next 10 go by as quickly as the last, we’ll exhale a few times and be there. More and more I ask myself, “How do I really, really apply this one day at a time business?” which means something a lot different when the time behind me is longer than the time ahead.

How do I really, really apply “one day at a time” in long-term recovery? Most of the people I talk with on the topic have been doing the deal for twenty, thirty or more years. We have the sobriety habit – the plug has stayed in the jug. But how do we continue to suit up and show up, to face all that life brings as we age, as our children and grandchildren grow up, as we walk through grief and loss, joys and challenges? What do we do when the kid gets in trouble, or mom or dad show signs of dementia? What if it’s us who notice cognitive decline? How do we deal with fears around our own mental or physical health, or our own mortality? In the old days, the fears, if even acknowledged, may have been around getting caught, or drunk driving, or the potential for overdose. Today it is more likely fears of, or the reality of cancer or heart disease or Alzheimer’s that tiptoe through the back hallways of our minds.

A few years ago, friends and I worked the Steps on aging and mortalitly, drawing literature from various sources. As much as I celebrate the gifts of long-term recovery, I must also acknowledge the losses – family and friends and meeting buddies dying, letting go of certain dreams and goals, as well as all that the body goes through. My knees are no longer 35, nor is my eyesight. My parents are both gone. My sister-in-law is in memory care. Time marches on.

I so appreciate that the 12 Steps can be applied to just about anything I face. Working my program means striving for a balance between acceptance and action, surrender and moving forward. As we’ve heard, “I no longer have a drinking problem, but I do have a thinking problem.” Oh yes. So what do I do with my runaway mind that often focuses on what could go wrong instead of what is going right? I think it is the same set of tools I’ve used all along – I don’t drink and go to meetings. I put pen to paper when particularly troubled. I share openly with a trusted other. I pay attention to the HALTS (yes, still and always). I make time to connect with my spiritual resources, which for me includes time outdoors or with a good friend. And, without drifting into either morbid reflection or euphoric recall, I strive to cultivate gratitude as a practice. I consider myself one of the fortunate ones – I’m sober and alive.

I’m now one of the long-timers I used to see in meetings, the old codgers who’d say, “Keep coming back” and there they’d be, week after week. There is comfort in knowing I belong, that I’m right where I’m supposed to be. There is responsibility too – to the program, to being of service (in and outside of AA), to living my values. One day at a time, I’ll keep showing up.


Jeanine is the author of the weekly blog, “Sober Long Time – Now What?” as well as a 78 page workbook of the same name, with various topics and processing questions for individual or small group discussion. See the WEB VERSION of the blog page to order a PDF (for outside the US) or a hardcopy.

She began writing a weekly blog in 2016 on the joys and challenges of long-term recovery. Readers are invited to participate in the conversation by posting comments and their views of the various topics raised by Jeanine, each and every week. Helping to facilitate change and watching people re-gain their lives and repair relationships, continues to be her passion.


For a PDF of this article, click here: Long Term Sobriety.


 

The post Long Term Sobriety first appeared on AA Agnostica.

AA Before There Was AA

by bob k.

William L. White, author of Slaying The Dragon: The History of Addiction Treatment and Recovery in America, published a memoir in 2017. In Recovery Rising, the treatment professional and addiction historian discusses the idea of the “wounded healer.” “One of the foundational concepts within the history of recovery support is that of the wounded healer – the notion that people who have survived a particular illness or trauma might use that experience as a foundation to help others in similar circumstances.” (Recovery Rising, William L. White, p. 470)

The great strength of Alcoholics Anonymous is birthed in the process of identification. Typically, the alcoholic has already suffered through the remonstrations of a frustrated spouse, parent, or employer; and/or the counseling of a minister, priest, rabbi, yogi, physician, or any other would-be helper. These well-intentioned folks are seen by the alcoholic as “not really getting it.” During his chastisement, the penitent drunkard does his part, which is to hang his head in shame. He may pledge to never again do what he has done a thousand times before.

It’s different in AA. The man or woman being “helped” is asked to listen to the story of the “helper.” In the best cases, he or she hears a tale much like his or her own, except that the account includes not just struggling, but overcoming. In the best of cases, there are “no lectures to be endured.”

In helping, the helper helps himself.

The wounded healer class is not limited to alcoholics. As was the case with William James, Carl Jung had had his own confrontations with inner demons. The psychoanalyst later stated that “a good half of every treatment that probes at all deeply consists in the doctor examining himself . . . it is his own hurt that gives a measure of his power to heal.” (Jung, Anthony Stevens, p. 110)

In the world of the now, “wounded healers” serve as mentors in mutual aid groups, most notably, the many 12-Step fellowships. Other recovered alcoholics and addicts work professionally as paid counsellors. There is precedent for both of these functions, dating back to decades before Bill Wilson took his final drink.

In the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, there were amateur wounded healers performing much as they do today. The Washingtonians (founded 1840) remain the best known of the early mutual aid groups who helped themselves by helping others, but there were many such societies, and to varying degrees, they were AA-like in how they operated. The Sons of Temperance, Rechabites, Templars, and others were groups of alcoholics who helped each other to get and stay sober. The Ribbon Reform Clubs and Fraternal Temperance Societies that came later did the same. A serious problem for these groups of “drunks helping other drunks” is that they were absorbed into the broader temperance movement controlled by nonalcoholics.

Furthermore, long before the proliferation of modern treatment centers, there had been reformed drinkers working as paid counselors. Richard Peabody is perhaps the most recognizable name among the alcoholics who followed personal recovery by going on to careers in the field of lay therapy. At ten years sober, Peabody wrote The Common Sense of Drinking (1931), a volume that influenced Bill W.’s writing of the Bigga Booka.

Throughout the nineteenth century, some reformed drunkards had made their livings as paid temperance speakers inspiring others with their stories of salvation. Earlier still, Native Americans had formed “recovery circles” of sober alcoholics and those seeking help in stopping drinking.

Missions

At the time AA’s Big Book was undergoing last-minute alteration before publication, Henry G. Parkhurst was lobbying, yet again, for a toning down of what he viewed as religiosity and preachiness of the book’s message. In support of that cause, he offered the view that “the missions had never been effective with alcoholics.”

He was wrong.

Wounded healer Jerry McAuley had his Water Street Mission (founded in 1872) working reasonably well some decades earlier. We have no percentages and no statistics, but the former drunken criminal was sobering up some hard cases and putting them to work helping others similarly afflicted. These healed healers clung together drawing strength from more than just the religious comforting of the mission’s format. It’s very likely that in daytime hours, the facility operated much like a modern Alano club.

Samuel H. Hadley experienced a similar reformation in 1882 and for the remainder of his life, worked diligently to bring others into recovery from alcoholism. Both of these men receive mention in The Varieties of Religious Experience (1902).

Further, in the decades immediately preceding the birth of Alcoholics Anonymous, the men relieved of their obsession to drink through the Emmanuel Movement were encouraged to help others. The Jacoby Club (1908) was formed so that alcoholics brought into sobriety at the Boston church could congregate with others hoping for a similar result. The club flourished for three decades. It was forced to find larger quarters multiple times in order to accommodate the rising numbers of down-and-outers being helped to attain a new way of life.

The group’s motto was: Men who help themselves by helping other men. As with the missions and the Washingtonians, assistance with basic needs accompanied the support in overcoming troubles with alcohol. Why did the Jacoby Club not spread across America? The simplest answer seems to be that they lacked a leader with the vision and ambition of a Bill Wilson to take the group to a national audience. Locally, the club was highly effective in demonstrating the power of wounded healers to aid others of their ilk.

Many alcoholics, then and now, after countless failed attempts to climb out of the pit of alcoholism, see recovery as something that’s “undoable” for them. Powerful is the living example of ones who were once as they were, and possibly worse. The seemingly hopeless find new glimmers of hope. Possibilities become realized with each step forward encouraged and supported. The Jacoby Club had sober entertainments, and they had sponsors operating under the title “special brothers.”

You are no longer alone.

Mutual Aid Groups

The emotional core of addiction is a mixture of isolation (in the end, only the drug exists), desperation (over rapidly fading power and control), and shame (over the loss of control of the drug and ourselves and the damage we are inflicting on ourselves, our loved ones, and the world.

Recovery Rising, p. 221

AA sponsors are wounded healers. They help sponsees to find healing. Sometimes the sponsor falls and the roles might be reversed. In any case, the battle is no longer a solitary one. In short order, the sobriety seeker is aware that he has new friends who have insiders’ knowledge of the problem. There is much talk of community and connection in the modern iterations of spirituality and as antidotes to addiction.

We know that numerous drunks who recovered in the pre-AA era maintained their sobriety. Some authored books about their struggles with alcohol addiction, their release, and their return to normal living. The drinking is typically vividly described with the purple-est of prose. Even allowing that these accounts may be somewhat exaggerated, we are presented with real alcoholics of the most desperate type.

The stories of wounded healers such as John Hawkins, John Gough, Jerry McAuley, Samuel Hadley, Orville Gardner and others are well documented. To some degree, they were public figures. They seem to have intuited that service would help them through the tribulations of maintaining sobriety. We find this critical element described in “Bill’s Story.”

My wife and I abandoned ourselves with enthusiasm to the idea of helping other alcoholics to a solution to their problems. It was fortunate, for my old business associates remained skeptical for a year and a half, during which I found little work. I was not too well at the time, and was plagued by waves of self-pity and resentment.

This sometimes nearly drove me back to drink, but I soon found that when all other measures failed, work with another alcoholic would save the day. Many times I have gone to my old hospital in despair. On talking to a man there, I would be amazingly lifted up and set on my feet. It is a design for living that works in rough going.

AA Big Book, p. 15

The power derived from both service and association with like-minded others had been demonstrated many times over, long before Bill Wilson helped himself by helping Dr. Bob Smith.

The Keeley Institutes undoubtedly brought many alcoholics into sobriety, even though the “gold cure” itself was essentially a scam. The major upside of that whole therapeutic effort, besides making Dr. Leslie Keeley a very wealthy man in a short period of time, was that Keeley Cure graduates congregated in support groups called Keeley Leagues.

By helping others, they helped themselves.

The unique ability of alcoholics to assist other alcoholics has been demonstrated again and again and continues to be in the treatment world of the twenty-first century.

True believers prefer not to recognize that the Big Book, as Emerson famously observed of Whitman’s Leaves of Grass, “must have had a long foreground somewhere, for such a start.” In fact, nearly all the constitutive elements of the AA program were in place a century before Bill W. ever set foot in Akron. 

As William L. White says in his magisterial history of addiction treatment in America, it is “clearly not the case” that mutual support groups for inebriates began with AA.

Bill W. and Mr. Wilson, Matthew Raphael, p. 67


bob k is a long-time sober member of AA and has been a regular contributor to aaagnostica. His anthology Key Players in AA History (2015) remains popular with an expanded Second Edition released in 2023. The Secret Diaries of Bill W. (2023) employs the genre of biographical fiction to take a look at the fascinating life of AA’s principal founder. Coming in 2024 are Almost Hopeless, a look at addiction treatment pre-AA and 366 Days of Good Orderly Direction. a daily reflection book for secularists in recovery.


For a PDF of this article, click here: AA Before There Was AA.


 

The post AA Before There Was AA first appeared on AA Agnostica.

The Freedom To Be Myself In Secular NA

By Kris J.

I’ve never been a follower of any religion. I grew up in an atheist/agnostic household, only ever having gone to church when it was right across the street from my home as a kindergartener. I was a child who enjoyed making tie-dyes, friendship bracelets, and other crafts with the preacher’s wife during Bible camp. I witnessed other things in that church that I craved to have in my life, such as friendship and community. Despite this brief foray into the world of religion, I’ve never been a religious person. I’ve never had a belief in any deity of any kind; the closest I’ve ever come as an adult was a period of what I called “militant agnosticism” in my 20s. “I don’t know, and neither do you” read the bumper sticker I proudly slapped on my car.

Knowing this, it rather caught me by surprise when one day my adult daughter said to me, while reminiscing over her own childhood, “Remember that time when you were a Christian?”.

“Well, absolutely not,” I said instantly. I was baffled. How could she have gotten this impression? She began to describe a period during her childhood, according to her memory. “You were packing up from that small apartment over the bar, about to move to Texas to go back to college.”

Oh. That time I was a Christian.

She was describing a period in my life just before one of my most difficult rock bottoms, one of the many I put myself through during my active addiction. In this particular one, I’d find myself with a wrecked car, criminal and civil charges, and an eviction notice. If I didn’t move from West Virginia to Texas, I’d be homeless within days. She remembered only that I was about to leave her and her brother, that I’d be attending college, and she remembered, unexpectedly, that I was a Christian.

How did a decided atheist become a Christian in my daughter’s eyes? I’d become desperate enough to walk into a Narcotics Anonymous meeting. NA was a last ditch effort before giving up and leaving my children, moving over 2000 miles away. I had tried quitting drugs on my own, repeatedly, to no avail. When at long last the pain of using became so great it was breaking me, I found the rooms of NA. “Our disease always resurfaced or continued to progress until in desperation we sought help from each other in Narcotics Anonymous.”

A full two months before I almost lost everything, I tried the one thing I had not yet tried, the fellowship of Narcotics Anonymous. I was defeated and broken. I hoped this would be a place for me to get better. After all, I had no other options. I wasn’t ready to have my family know what I was going through, but I knew I needed help. I could see the destruction closing in on me. I had nowhere else to turn.

My first few meetings were extremely foreign to me; not so much the idea of not using, as I deduced that these people had found some magic formula to put down the drugs. Instead, it was the language, the prayers all over the walls. Higher Power was a capitalized euphemism for the Capital G-God. I didn’t escape a single meeting without a prayer I didn’t know the words to, the holding of hands in a circle, invoking “God”. The fact that every single meeting was held within a church’s walls didn’t help me believe that this was anything except for a very religious program, despite the occasional claim it wasn’t. I never attended a single meeting that didn’t feature this sort of religiosity.

I listened to everything attentively. I didn’t share much during those weeks; I related to the using, but the solution wasn’t something that made any sense to me. I knew they’d figured out something, and it was made clear to me that something was supposed to be God. It was also the one thing everybody seemed to have in common, outside of being an addict. I was told many things: “We will love you until you can love yourself.” “Don’t worry about what your God looks like, eventually you’ll come to know him.” And I did what I was told. “Come to 90 meetings in 90 days. Get a sponsor. Listen for the similarities.”

I was also told, “You cannot get clean without a Higher Power. It will be a God of your own understanding.” But what was implicit was, “but of course, it should be a Capital H-He and you should pray to him in the style of Christianity, like we all do here.” After all, I lived in an area where Christianity was the most familiar and obvious path.

I wanted so badly to find a way to live without using, I even bought a Bible. I went to a Bible study class on top of attending a meeting every day. Whatever it was that worked for them, it wasn’t being done without religion. Even if I ignored the things unsaid, those words were spoken explicitly to me. I’d been told that if I didn’t find God, I’d die. I believed death was knocking at my door on a regular basis, so that part of the equation seemed real enough. “I must make the other half my reality,” I thought, and in doing so, I dove head first down the rabbit hole.

I tried so hard to buy into this that I left my children with the impression that I was a Christian, and they then carried this belief with them for a decade. They remember the Bible, they remember me trying to read it and explain it to them. They didn’t know I was an addict, nor a member of Narcotics Anonymous, but they saw I was trying to become a believer. It was all a lie. I never felt the faith I was told I needed in order to live, but I wanted recovery bad enough to give it everything I had.

What I could not reconcile, however, was being told repeatedly that I must be honest, both with myself and everybody else, and that I must believe in God to recover. I wanted to recover, and I wanted to be honest about it. I was trying to do more than fake it. “How do you find faith if it doesn’t want to find you?” Nobody seemed to have the answer to that question.

“How sad,” I thought, “that this recovery they’ve found isn’t for me.” I gave it everything I had, in an effort to be honest, open-minded, and willing. I shared the problem with these addicts, but the solution they’d found wasn’t for me. I could not stay in a program where I couldn’t even be myself without failing the basic tenet of honesty.

Shortly after I left the rooms feeling defeated and hopeless, I lost everything that mattered to me. I left my children behind for 8 months, and although I didn’t realize it at the time, they’d go on to believe their mother had converted to Christianity. It hadn’t worked out for me and- I’d expected them to see that, but they didn’t. They were as blind to me giving up my attempt at religion as they were to my addiction. I managed to hide the truth of myself so easily from them.

This was in 2009, and I stayed out of the rooms for nearly 12 years after that. Each time I considered trying the fellowship again, it was the “God stuff” that kept me away. Over those 12 years, I’d reach 4 more serious rock bottoms that I’d just barely crawl out of again, and each one affected everyone in my life in consequential ways. I overdosed 4 times, and buried over a dozen friends.

My final rock bottom came in 2021, when I had my youngest child removed from my home. This was the worst of all, and would be impossible to recover from alone. I dismissed Narcotics Anonymous yet again, because I knew I couldn’t force myself to believe, but soon found out it was one of the conditions I’d have to meet in order to restore custody. I’d have to figure out NA, as I was court-ordered to go.

Thankfully by this point, I could at least attend virtual meetings. At the third “traditional meeting”, the host began the familiar proselytizing. “Go talk to your sponsor if you don’t like me saying ‘Jesus.’ It’s your problem, not mine.” While I truly didn’t have a problem with anybody else’s faith, it felt like I’d been set up, and I’d never be allowed to express my own disbelief without instantly being one of those people he seethingly referred to. Now I knew, I couldn’t be myself. I’d have to fake it just to survive.

That moment inspired me enough to google “secular meetings” and I stumbled across my first, a meeting on Zoom being held out of Seattle, Washington. Within 5 minutes, I knew that I’d found my home. By the end of the meeting, I realized I could finally be myself within this program, and I cried for nearly an hour. It was that much of a revelation to me. I could attend a meeting without having to fear that my disbelief would make me an outcast among outcasts.

Nowadays, I’m involved in Secular NA behind the scenes, in service. A friend and I recently started a new secular meeting on Wednesdays, which is now one of 26 online secular meetings one can find on the secularna.org website. One of the best feelings in my recovery has come from seeing the relief and joy from newcomers whose story is not unlike mine. It’s what inspires me to be of service. Had I had this community back in 2009, I can only imagine how different life would’ve been for me. It’s with that knowledge that I’ll continue to help this community grow and thrive, to reach those who need to feel free to be themselves too. I know there are others out there like me, who walked in and right back out of the rooms because they couldn’t force a faith they don’t have. The still sick and suffering addict is my inspiration. I’m so proud of this community I’ve become a part of. We’ve been having regular gatherings of our meeting representatives, working as a community on things such as service, formats, security, and attraction (rather than promotion). This year we have a representative speaking at a “Friends of Secular AA” workshop at the International Conference of Secular AA, which will be held on September 20-22, 2024. We’ve been told there will be a workshop based on secular NA at the 38th World Convention of Narcotics Anonymous. That’s coming up the last weekend of August, and I’ll be in attendance. This is my first convention of its kind. I’m giddy with excitement.

And I never have to pretend to be anyone but myself to recover again. I’ve found my community in secular NA. (For information about meetings and other resources, please go to Secular Narcotics Anonymous.)


Kris J. is a grateful recovering addict living in the Eastern Panhandle of West Virginia. She first came into the rooms of Narcotics Anonymous in 2009, and she “stuck and stayed” after finding secular NA in 2021. Kris recently opened a new secular meeting and is a secretary for two others. She’s the mother of 3 and considers herself an atheist humanist. In her spare time she formulates natural perfumes and incense. Her clean date is November 18, 2022.


For a PDF of this article, click here: The Freedom To Be Myself In Secular NA.


 

The post The Freedom To Be Myself In Secular NA first appeared on AA Agnostica.

The Dangers of AA Fundamentalism

By Andy F.

My name is Andy, and I’m an alcoholic. I arrived in AA on May 15th, 1984, after many years of drinking. I loved AA from the outset. I had found a family atmosphere that was missing from childhood. I was placed in foster care at an early age and subjected to very religious regimes, including church several times a week. Sadly, there was no love, only coldness, rejection, and criticism. Childhood needs for acceptance and love were absent. Through my childlike eyes, I stopped believing that God even existed. He was never there in the religious family that I grew up in.

My biological mother took me out of foster care when I was nine years old. She sent me to a Catholic Boarding School for the remainder of my education. The strict religious doctrines continued, and by my early teens, I had rejected anything to do with God and religion.

When I first arrived at AA, I was full of resentment toward everything and everyone, including God and religion. Reading through the twelve steps, I was horrified that the old nemesis had returned. Step two spoke of a higher power, and step three mentioned God. At the time, God and a higher power meant the same thing. I quickly realized this would be too challenging and impossible for an unbeliever.

As a confirmed agnostic, I was unwilling to get a sponsor and be guided through the program. Rejecting the twelve steps resulted in misery and relapse for many years in AA. Eventually, I came across an agnostic-friendly sponsor. He agreed to take me through the program, suggesting I use AA itself as a power greater than me. It worked! I am now 27 years sober and have the privilege of helping other atheists and agnostics through the program.

I suffered so much as a serial relapser that I became passionate about carrying a message of hope to other non-believers in recovery. I wrote a book about my experiences going through the steps as an agnostic and became an avid blogger.

About a year ago, a friend suggested that I post my blogs on a website that had a forum for alcoholics. It is called “I drink too much.” All kinds of blogs and articles are written there, mainly by AA members. My blogs are about my experiences in AA as an agnostic. Almost immediately, the articles I posted started to attract judgment and criticism. It was always from the same group of AA members. I would describe them as ‘Big Book thumpers.’ These people take the Big Book literally and believe that you can’t stay sober without God.

A contributor to the forum strongly suggested that I refrain from posting more content on the forum. He insinuated that Secular AA is a subversive movement in the fellowship and undermines the unity of AA. He went on to say that an agnostic or atheist position in AA has nothing to do with the pure and undiluted message described in the Big Book. This member suggested that I was harming newcomers by telling them that they could get sober without God, which came as a shock.

Several weeks later, he felt compelled to write me a private email on the forum. He told me that I was corrupting the AA program with my articles. In the interests of newcomers to AA, he tried to dissuade me from contributing any further articles promoting agnostic recovery. And yet, here I was, living proof that it is possible to achieve a happy and lasting sobriety without the need to believe in a deity.

Then, he made a statement that left me lost for words. As someone with 40 years in the program, I couldn’t believe what I heard. What he said struck me as being in total conflict with the all-inclusive ethos of AA. Of course, the third tradition of AA instructs us that he has every right to pursue his recovery in any way that works for him. Conversely, I have every right to work my program as an agnostic.

“The only requirement for AA membership is a desire to stop drinking.”

I cannot deny that I felt uncomfortable with the aggressive way in which he imposed his views as if they were infallible and sacrosanct.

Here is what he said:

“You can’t be a real alcoholic if you don’t believe in God.”

I wondered how newly sober members would react if told that they couldn’t be ‘real’ alcoholics if they didn’t believe in God. What is a ‘real’ alcoholic anyway? Was this the very thing a newcomer wanted to hear? What better excuse to go back out drinking than for an alcoholic to go back out and research whether or not they are a ‘real’ alcoholic? Most members of AA are aware that no one in the fellowship is qualified to offer a diagnosis of anyone’s drinking problem except the alcoholic himself. (BB “More about alcoholism” page 31)

I became concerned about the impact of such a declaration on confused, sometimes vulnerable newcomers. Many have little or no faith in God or greater power. What might happen to them if extremists began influencing them? How many non-believers might walk away from AA after hearing this type of rhetoric?

As an agnostic member of AA, I found this statement to be one of the most dishonest, divisive, and destructive declarations I have ever heard in the fellowship. Of course, it is his right to believe in anything he wants, but could he harm newcomers by forcefully imposing his ideas on them?

I felt an obligation to make newly sober members aware of the dangers of this type of fundamentalism. It is not the first time I’ve encountered an extremist approach to recovery. Years ago, when I was still struggling with relapse, I came into contact with a hard-core splinter group in London. I witnessed dangerous beliefs and attitudes that had nothing to do with the principles of AA.

I decided to document my experiences of fundamentalism in AA, which reminded me of cult-like religious fundamentalism. I wrote a short book called “You can’t be a real alcoholic if you don’t believe in God”. The book is available for free download by scrolling down on the homepage of my website:

https://aaforagnostics.com/

If you find value in the content of this short publication, please share it with others. Many lost and vulnerable newcomers may benefit from increasing their awareness. I hope that they avoid getting involved with a fundamentalist sponsor or splinter group.


Andy F went to his first meeting on May 15th, 1984. Having had negative experiences with religion and religious people in childhood, he found it impossible to embrace the twelve steps. Frequent references to God and a higher power put him off completely. He decided to pursue his recovery through therapy. Unfortunately, it didn’t keep him sober. He became a serial relapser and, several times, came close to losing his life. Eventually, he was lucky to find an experienced oldtimer happy to work with an agnostic. Andy was able to stay sober and recreate his life. It’s now been twenty-seven years since his last relapse. He is committed to sponsorship and has become an avid blogger. Andy’s blogs are about his experiences in recovery as an agnostic alcoholic.


For a PDF of this article, click here: The Dangers of AA Fundamentalism.


 

The post The Dangers of AA Fundamentalism first appeared on AA Agnostica.

Struggling in AA is a Rite of Passage!

By Caitlin Trombley

If you ever struggled with AA as a nonreligious person, you’re not alone! It seems to be the norm for almost all nonreligious folks who walk into AA. For my PhD dissertation, I interviewed 51, predominantly nonreligious, individuals in Alcoholics Anonymous from all over the place. As individuals told their stories, two things were clear: (1) nonreligious members face many barriers in AA, and (2) they are resilient as hell. Below, I’ll summarize what I found and reported in my 200-something page dissertation.

Barriers Faced in AA

There were 5 notable barriers that were commonly mentioned among participants in the study: (1) The belief that AA was religious and therefore being nonreligious was a liability; (2) The religious undertone and “God talk” in meetings; (3) Prayers in meetings; (4) The Big Book; and (5) Discrimination. Upon their initial meeting, many participants entered AA and assumed it was a religious organization based on information from friends, family, Hollywood portrayals, or their own observations. This led to anxiety and doubts about whether they would be accepted in AA as nonreligious individuals. In fact, it wasn’t uncommon to hear stories about people pretending to be religious, trying to be religious, or feeling shame that they weren’t religious. One participant explained this well, saying:

“I thought that you had to be religious to be in AA. I thought, I’m not welcome here because I’m atheist. So, I thought I had to lie. I attribute my not being able to stay sober long term, until now, to that lie. Like, I was lying about what I believed and the whole time they say, fake it till you make it. But it was hollow. All of the work was hollow. I felt like I wasn’t welcome here because nobody ever talked different than a Christian. Ever. At least it didn’t sound like it to me. And I thought, well, that’s the only way.”

Fortunately, that individual learned the best path for their recovery was to be their authentic, atheist, self. She boldly came out to her group letting them know her beliefs (or lack thereof) and has maintained her sobriety since. As I said, resilient as hell!

The second barrier that was common to hear was about how frustrating it was to hear all of the religious context and God talk in meetings. Constantly hearing religious talk made people feel insecure and unwelcome. One of my favorite quotes from a participant discussing this was, “going to meetings it’s like going to a revival. Everything that happened good was God, and everything bad that happened was taking their will back from God.” Participants discussed how the religious would often talk about their past atheism in negative ways, and how the only way they were able to get sober “legitimately” was by becoming religious. Fortunately, we all know that’s not true!

If you want to rip your hair out when you hear the Lord’s Prayer at a meeting, you’re not alone. The third barrier was centered around prayers, prayers, and more prayers. Every single person I interviewed talked about how frustrating this was—even the few religious folks I interviewed! For a lot of people, when they initially came in, they heard a prayer and said “nope!” and walked out thinking they’d never be back again. Fortunately, many ended up in secular meetings and finding the good folks like you who feel the same. As I mentioned, even the religious individuals thought it was a bit much. One of them said it best when he said, “I go to mass for my faith, and AA for my sobriety.”

The fourth barrier was centered around the Big Book, whether it be its sexism, the we agnostics chapter, the 12-steps, or the Big Book Thumpers that try to force it down your throat. Most people first picked up the Big Book early on, hoping it would give them the advice and answers they needed to promote their recovery. Unfortunately, for most, they were baffled, or downright disgusted, at what was inside. When it came to working through the 12 steps, participants would ask peers in their traditional AA group on how to go about the god concept, and were either told a) it can be anything, it can be doorknob! (someone please, PLEASE explain where the heck this comes from?!) or b) go read We Agnostics and it should help (spoiler alert, it didn’t). There were so many good quotes about this, but below I’ll share a few of my favorites that really drew this point home.

“I would share that I was uncertain about how to do, say, step 3, and people would say well, just fake it until you make it. And that just was not workable to me. Or some people would say, you know, just let go, you know, the doorknob can be your higher power and I was like, no, that’s not going to help me be sober. That’s just bullshit.”

Participants would express that these alternatives were frustrating, not helpful, and offensive. Often, groups would be lenient about whatever higher power someone would initially choose, but the longer they were in the group, the more the group started to expect more. When talking about this, someone explained:

“And it’s a bait and switch cause they say anything can be your higher power, right? So, they draw you in. Anything can be your higher power. It could be a doorknob, it can be your cat, it can be like, anything you want. Right? So, then someone like me goes in and says, well, I like nature and science, and they say that’s great. Come on, that’ll do. But it doesn’t take very long before you have to get on your knees and pray to “nature” to intervene in your life and so, it doesn’t work, it’s a bait and switch cause it’s like, you can have this very ambiguous kind of idea of nature and the sky and the ocean. You can have those ideas, but then, you’d better get serious, or you’re never gonna get sober.”

The expectation that your replacement God was to become a Christian God was common among participants. The other popular recommendation, as I mentioned, was to go read the We Agnostics chapter. This sort of reiterated the idea that religious members thought that at the end of the day, you ought to end up believing in a higher power if you’re going to be “serious” about your recovery. I think one participant said it best when he said, “yeah, read the chapter We Agnostic! It makes you gag,” considering that the whole premise is that you will eventually find God.

Last but not least, the most frustrating barrier for me to hear about, was the blatant discrimination that happens in AA from the Big Book Thumpers. I don’t think these need much explanation, as most of you reading probably have your own story to tell. But for the sake of knowing you’re not alone in this, I’ve provided a few stories below as told by the participants.

“I’d been sober three decades or so, and after meeting this young man, maybe he’s in his thirties, I don’t know, cornered me after the meeting. And he said if you don’t find Jesus, you will never stay sober. I was like look are you kidding me? I’ve got over 30 years of sobriety already. Yeah, got it.”

“People after meetings have come up to me and told me that, you know, I’m gonna burn in hell and I’m like, okay.”

“When we first started our meeting in person, oh, we got so many visitors who would come and just double down. They would just be like, well, I have a higher power and his name is Jesus Christ and I have a lord and savior and all this kind of like, like next level.  Oh, there was this one guy who lived in a county south of us, which is very, very conservative, and he would come and, like, if anybody would cry in the meeting or even just reveal something that was really heartbreaking, like oh, you know, my mom was diagnosed with cancer or something like that, he would zoom in on them after the meeting and start saying, well, you know, it could be because you need God, and God would really help you with this and stuff.”

“I was just told to shut up about my agnosticism. I was told that I would drink again if I didn’t find a God. I was told to get the fuck out of AA because I was a nonreligious human being, you know, it was brutal. It was, it was truly brutal.”

Yeah, pretty frustrating to read about, right? The good news is, like I said in the beginning of the article, two things were clear from this research (1) there are some pretty serious barriers people face in AA and (2) nonreligious people in AA are resilient as hell. When people told me their stories, they talked about the barriers, but more importantly, they talked about how they overcame them and the strategies and tools they used and still use to have a successful recovery. I’ll talk about these more below.

Resiliency

Nonreligious individuals in AA use a variety of resources and create a variety of different tools to meet their needs. Everyone’s recovery journey is unique, so it makes sense that each person uses a different set of resources to support their recovery. The people I interviewed used a combination of the following to help their recovery: not working the 12 steps; creating an alternative higher power; drawing from outside resources; practicing gratitude, meditation, and mindfulness; being active and vocal about defending their nonreligious beliefs at meetings; and attending secular AA meetings.

It’s often hammered into your head that in order to stay sober, you absolutely have to work the steps. However, a good amount of people I interviewed said f*** it, and didn’t work the steps at all. They thought the most valuable aspect of AA wasn’t the program and the steps, but the people and connections they had. They really practiced the “take what you want and leave the rest” motto. For those that didn’t work the 12 steps at all, they explained that to them, any iteration of the alternative versions was one in the same. Someone said:

“It’s kind of like Splenda, you know, it’s still the same framework that you’re processing. You know, there’s the Wiccan 12 steps that basically change a Christian white higher power to a feminine higher power, it’s just a different version of God so they’ve just swapped the anthem for a different deity but it’s still a deity and I’m like, you know, we have to take some ownership in our own lives too. God’s not going to get you out of the crack house, you can’t pray your way out of the crack house. You kind of got to get on your feet and walk.”

For others, the issue with the 12 steps was that it just made them feel bad about themselves. Specifically, for a lot of women, making an inventory when you already have a low self-esteem makes everything worse, not better. If anything, we need an ego boost, not a kick when we are already down.

This, of course, is not to say you should necessarily throw the 12 steps out the window. What works for one person, may not work for another. In fact, those who did decide to work the steps did so by using alternative 12 steps, or by creating an alternative to the god concept. If you need some ideas for an alternative higher power here’s a list of the many people I interviewed used: the group itself (classic!), the ocean, writing a list of attributes you would want a higher power to have and then making that your higher power, nature, the sun, mountains, connection with fellow human beings, the universe, your pet, a higher purpose, a doorknob (kidding!). For some reason, people often think that once they adopt whatever higher power they choose that it has to remain the same for the rest of their life. However, I think one participant worded it best when he talked about advice from his sponsor:

“She reminded me that I didn’t have to overthink anything about a higher power, it didn’t have to be any conception of anyone else’s higher power she didn’t give a fuck. She didn’t care. If it worked for me than it worked for me, and if it worked for me today, then that was great. And if I had to pick something else tomorrow then I had to pick something else tomorrow.”

Additionally, people drew from all sorts of non-AA, non-conference-approved resources. The most popular secular literature that almost every single nonreligious participant mentioned were readings from the AA Agnostica website, Staying Sober Without God: The Practical 12 Steps to Long-Term Recovery from Alcoholism and Addictions by Jeffrey Munn (2019), Beyond Belief: Agnostic Musings for 12 Step Life: finally, a daily reflection book for nonbelievers, freethinkers and everyone! by Joe C. (2013), and A Secular Sobriety: Including a Secular Version of the First 164 Pages of the Big Book by Dale K. (2017). Other popular literature were books like The Alternative 12 Steps: A Secular Guide to Recovery (Cleveland and G. 2014), Modern 12 Step Recovery: Alcoholics Anonymous for the 21st Century by Glen Rader (2021), The Urge: Our History of Addiction by Carl Fisher (2022), We’re Not All Egomaniacs: Adapting the Twelve Steps for Alcoholics with Low Self-Esteem by Beth Aich (2021), and A Woman’s Way Through the Twelve Steps by Stephanie Covington (1994). A lot of people also mentioned they loved listening to the Beyond Belief Sobriety podcast as well. Lastly, a frequently cited resource for support was the AA Beyond Belief Facebook group.

Practicing gratitude, meditation, and mindfulness was a common tool people used for their recovery. A lot of participants I interviewed, though nonreligious, had a lot of respect for Buddhism and Buddhist principles. People found that even a 5-minute daily meditation improved their well-being, or that writing one thing a day that they were grateful for seemed to keep their spirits high and an appreciation for life. One person said engaging in these activities “It’s just something simple that I feel like helps you deal with life on life’s terms.” In addition to AA, quite a few people I interviewed also attended Recovery Dharma and said it was useful and helped them practice meditation, mindfulness, and gratitude.

In addition to utilizing a variety of the resources mentioned, participants talked a lot about the importance of pushing back against some of the discrimination and rude comments that are made in meetings. There’s a reason I said that nonreligious AA members are resilient—to face such discrimination and to have the energy to keep on going and push back against it is commendable. People do this in a variety of ways, though most often in the form of speaking out against other members who insinuate that God belief is necessary to maintain sobriety. People mentioned that over time, especially around Big Book Thumpers, they have become more open and more vocal about their nonreligious identity and beliefs, especially when there is newcomers or when they hear a “you have to have God to get sober.” As one person said, “I think it’s important that everyone hears that you can have long term recovery and sobriety without a God.” To some, they still go to traditional meetings just to say “I am an atheist in Alcoholics Anonymous” so other people know if they’re new and they’re having a struggle that it can be done.

Other’s use their activism to push for eliminating prayers in meetings. If you think it can’t be done, you’re wrong! Several people I interviewed had success in getting rid of prayers at meetings. It’s great to see that nonreligious AA members are stepping up, claiming their space, and advocating for newcomers so that they don’t have to go through what they once did.

Finally, the most valuable resource mentioned by people I interviewed was secular meetings and the community. I’d love to share a few excerpts from interviews on how life-changing finding secular AA was for so many people:

“These are my people, really. And I don’t have any other expectations. I can really say how I feel.”

“They were like my people, you know, they were my tribe. They understood me, I understood them, and it was like this big, refreshing thing.”

“There’s nothing to filter. I don’t have to operate on more than one level and also people talk more from the heart. They aren’t quoting from the Big Book, they aren’t comparing higher powers, the whole, you know, my higher power is bigger than yours. There is a big difference. There’s a lot more, I think compassion. They’re a lot gentler and people seem to be relieved. When you see people that are relieved to find something like a secular meeting, it’s pretty grand.”

“There’s more discussions. You can interrupt somebody and say, hey, I don’t get that point. Can you explain? You know, that kind of stuff. That is a lot more helpful to me than a rigid series of monologues that you see in traditional AA.”

“I love my secular group. Partly because I don’t know, I’m sure this is totally self-selecting but these people are smart, way smarter and more intellectually interesting than anyone I’ve previously met in AA. I feel like I have found people who are more in tune with my understanding of it all, and I feel really good about it.”

My hope to the readers is that this has been useful, whether you’re newer to AA and struggling, or you’re an old-timer nodding your head going “yup, that sounds about right.” I’d like to thank the secular recovery community for their assistance and support on this research. Thank you to Roger C. for sending me literature to help with this project, for teaching me about the secular AA movement, and for your willingness to assist in any way you could. Thanks to members of the secular recovery community for sending me a complete list of secular recovery meetings when I reached a standstill with AA, and thank you for encouraging me to tell your stories. Keep on going, you got this!


Caitlin Trombley is an assistant professor of sociology at Marshall University. She holds a bachelor’s degree from East Carolina University, a master’s degree from West Virginia University, and a PhD from Western Michigan University. Her research centers on substance use disorders and the lived experiences of individuals in mutual help support groups such as Alcoholics Anonymous. Currently, she is working on a project exploring the experiences of women and gender minorities in Alcoholics Anonymous.


For a PDF of this article, click here: Struggling in AA is a Rite of Passage!


The post Struggling in AA is a Rite of Passage! first appeared on AA Agnostica.