If Tyler D. was your sponsor.

Have you ever seen Fight Club? Have you ever witnessed a 12-step meeting? If you can answer “yes” to both questions, then surely you’ve also noticed the spot-on synchronicity between the Fight Cub dialogue and Alcoholics Anonymous dogma. Substitute “fighting” for “drinking/shooting dope/whatever the hell else kids are doing these days”, and you’ve got yourself a recovery metaphor. The parallels are so perfect that the question must be asked:

What if Tyler D. was your sponsor?

Would he take the gruff, old-school AA approach?

Old-school AA is typically recalled as gnarly old dudes chain smoking, telling you to sit down and shut up and, if you spoke out of turn at meetings, to hand you a $10 bill and tell you to go drink, “because you’re not ready”. There’s a certain charm to it, as terrifying as it sounds. Maybe old-school AA Tyler D. would tell you:

“Listen up, maggot. You are not special. You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake. You’re the same decaying organic matter as everything else.”

Perhaps he would comfort you, coaxing you out of the depths of self-loathing..

By reminding you that “it’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything.”

Would he get up in front of the room, 4 cups of coffee deep, and shout the merits of recovery, perhaps by citing the calm, “I’ve walked through fire” mentality that many AA’s take on?

“After fighting, everything else in your life gets the volume turned. You could deal with anything.”

Would he go to painful lengths to remind you to “let go and let God”?

“Hitting bottom isn’t a weekend retreat. It’s not a goddamn seminar. Stop trying to control everything and just let go! LET GO!”

Would he remind you to be present and focus on feeling the nearness of your Creator (with or without the use of lye, open-handed slaps and Brad Pitt’s sultry lips)?

“This is the greatest moment of your life, man. And you’re off somewhere missing it!”

Would he encourage you to look on the bright side, not dwelling in self-pity?

“It could be worse. A woman could cut off your penis while you’re sleeping and toss it out the window of a moving car.”

Would he firmly hold a sponsor-spondee boundary while reminding you to remain teachable?

“Fuck what you know. You need to forget about what you know, that’s your problem. Forget about what you think you know about life, about friendship, and especially about you and me.”

In conclusion, I’ll leave you with this reminder that connection to a Higher Power, doing the next right thing, helping others and generally not being a scumbag is more important than material wealth:

“You’re not your job. You’re not how much money you have in the bank. You’re not the car you drive. You’re not the contents of your wallet. You’re not your fucking khakis. You’re the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.”

Ryan Sears viewed the film “Fight Club” approximately 50 times as an angst-ridden teenager, and read the book once on a plane. He also has slightly more than a nodding acquaintance with AA methodology.