Who Gets To Tell The Addict’s Stories?
If not people in recovery, then who?
When I first got clean at 19 — a Gen Xer, I started chugging booze I stole from the people I babysat for at age 10 — I never questioned whether I was an addict. I was also sure I’d never drink again, so long as I did what they told me in the AA meetings I attended. I extended the logic of, “if you keep doing what you did you’ll get what you got,” to recovery.
One thing 12 Step recovery demanded was anonymity. It was right in the name. And I knew how to keep a secret. I never said a word to anyone about my meeting attendance except for my immediate family. Even my amends were vague on the subject. Everyone always said that anonymity was key to the survival of AA. And I wanted AA to survive. Still do, only, my views on anonymity have changed dramatically in the past 36 years.
For one thing, that rigid adherence to doing what I did, shared cigarettes over coffee and cards late into the night, stopped working when I graduated from college and started my career. When I could no longer join these outings, I failed to seek out new friends. Out of a misplaced loyalty, I kept my friends but silently judged. I identified more with the people I worked with. People who could go out and have a glass of wine after work—one glass! People who had no idea I shouldn’t be drinking.
