Al-Anon for the Atheist… doesn’t exist.

I come from addiction. To alcohol, to food, to sex, to porn, to anger, to power, to substances of all manner, my genesis is with addiction. I am not myself an addict, but I litter my personal life and close relationships with addicts.

In an effort to further my understanding of my disease — for that is what I’m told it is — and to stop the cycle of depression and all the good stuff that is triggered as a result of my co-dependant behaviour, I found a therapist. Through medication, Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) and other forms of counselling , my therapist and I have been working to create a new and solid foundation on which to rebuild my life.

Early on in our work together, my therapist suggested I explore Al-Anon as a way to find understanding and peace in relation to the effects of addiction. I hadn’t really heard of Al-Anon before. AA is something I know a lot about thanks to movies, TV, and the addicts around me. I also know that the second step in AA is about surrendering yourself to the will of God, which, as an Atheist, is kinda problematic.

Yes. I am an atheist. I am not agnostic, I am a-theist: I do not believe in God, or a higher power, or any kind of spiritual being looking out for any of us, let alone me. If you’d like to understand more you can read this great post on Atheism.

So a program like AA or Al-Anon has not really been realistic for me. But, for over a year I have considered going to an Al-Anon meeting. I know there is something for me to learn by hearing stories from other people in my position and I want to learn. And, as most AA, Al-Anon and other AA-based therapies urge people “without religion” to attend (they say upfront that it will be easy to put aside the religion part of the practice) I felt like I was ready to give it a try. I am capable of putting aside the odd God declaration here and there and read between the lines. Even if I just take away the meaty middle part of listening to the stories and discard all the prayer-y bread slices at the beginning and end.

So I went.

I found one that appealed to me — an all-female group focused on building self-esteem in the light of abuse at the hands of addicts. Perfect.

The first thing that happened was the chair-person (as I understand most meetings are built around a town-hall meeting format) read from the preliminary Al-Anon literature and had us individually read each step. The steps are as follows:

Let’s take a closer look at these steps through the eye of an atheist:

Step 1. Ok. Sure. Not 100% behind that idea philosophically, but I can let go of that.

Step 2. Uh-oh. Problem. Let it go, Dee! You knew that one was coming.

Step 3. MAJOR problem. As we understand him. No room whatsoever for an atheist. But, I’ll hang in there.

Step 4. This one is good. Agreed. I can get behind that in a big way. It’s why I’m here.

Step 5. WTF?!

Step 6. SERIOUSLY?!

Step 7. COME ON!!!

Step 8. Ok. Jesus. Finally something I can use…

Step 9. Great! I didn’t know this step applied to Al-Anon. Cool. That is gonna be a tough one. I’m always up for a challenge.

Step 10. Yes!

Step 11. Ohferfuxsake…

Step 12. THIS IS INSANE! After all this I am expected to have a SPIRITUAL AWAKENING, NOW?!?!?!

This, as you can see if you are capable of putting yourself in my shoes and indeed the shoes of other Al-Anon candidates who also happen to be atheist, is extremely problematic.

What happened next at the meeting was prayer. *eye roll*

Whenever there is any kind of prayer at any kind of event whether it be a wedding or funeral I’ll play along. I don’t close my eyes. Or bow my head. Or fold my hands. But I do take a moment to listen and to remind myself that prayer has been found to be very helpful for people. I don’t hate religion, I actually understand it — I even think it might be vital for order in a world with billions of people in it, I just don’t personally relate. But I’m not an asshole. Being an atheist doesn’t make me someone who suddenly hates humanity! So I will always just sit quietly until prayer-time is over.

Next at the meeting, the guest speaker shared her story for 20 minutes. I respectfully cannot divulge anything of her incredible narrative as that is the part of Alcoholics Anonymous and Al-Anon that I most admire. Anonymity. But I will say she mentioned God a lot. A LOT.

Next they passed around a donation bag where we were gently expected to donate $3. This was definitely feeling very church-y. Plus, as a sidebar, I rarely have any cash on me so I was literally the only person who didn’t put anything in the bag which made my self-esteem SOAR!

Next there was a business meeting which had to be voluntarily chaired and motions put into play and votes of ay or nay and overall I was completely lost for those 10 minutes.

Then they opened the floor to stories from newbies. Then stories from anyone. And then, when the meeting was over, everyone stood up (there were about 30 women there), bowed heads, held hands and said an extended Lord’s Prayer. Again. My hands were as clammy as you can imagine thanks to the sheer anxiety of having to touch another person — forget STAND AND HOLD HANDS WITH 30 OF THEM WHILE THEY CHANTED RELIGIOSITY!

As soon as it was over I Road-Runner-ed my ass out of there like there was no tomorrow.

I could see that this group was incredibly loving and supportive. Being surrounded by all these women from all walks of life (although, conspicuously caucasian if I’m honest) who shared similar life stories to me, was heart-opening. I cried at the pain we shared. Wanted to hug at least five of them. But overall, I left irritated. Everyone finished their stories… with God. The meeting was bookended… with God. There were even stories hinting at the eventual surrender of various non-religious relatives to God — finally seeing the light and love of God and being saved. It was clear that there was no room for someone like me. I needed to be there, too, though. I needed to hear their stories and to share my own. But to do so would eventually mean that I’d have to either go against their beliefs or my own. And that is what is at the heart of my own illness: surrendering who I am and what I believe so that someone else is taken care of.

So sitting there, I was painfully, painfully aware of how even Al-Anon, if followed to the T, would become a dangerous environment for me. And if that is true for me, it must be true for others. I cannot be the only person out there who has addiction in their life but who is also an atheist.

Can I?

Sadly, I spent most of that day searching and researching non-religious or straight up atheist Al-Anon groups. I found a few Agnostic AA meetings in NYC and one place in Austin, TX that has an atheist chapter, but surprisingly, I came up with a big, fat, goose egg.

If I knew the first thing about addiction recovery and the effects of addiction on the family of addicts, I would start my own chapter. I’d build my own 12-step program to help the heathens of the world achieve peace and clarity, too. But I don’t understand it. I don’t know the first thing about my own involvement in it all so I can hardly be of any help to someone else. I also share a birthday with L Ron Hubbard, so I’m hyper-suspicious about any urges to start a group…

Maybe it’s my own personal, locale-based, Google-algorithm-shortcomings that are preventing me from finding a good atheist Al-Anon group in New York City, but I’m pretty sure it’s because it doesn’t exist. And that is a terrible shame.

I’d be very interested to hear from other atheists about this. Especially if I’m ill-informed. But even if I’m right on the money, perhaps talking about it like this will inspire a change in the field. Or inspire someone more inclined to start a group — I’d totally come and support you and be there if you do!