There Is No Cure-All For Addiction

aa isn't the medicine I need

Once a week, during an early morning online session over coffee, my therapist reminds me that a potential remedy to many of my frustrations might be attending AA meetings again.

And once a week, when she suggests it, I fight the urge to roll my eyes. This isn’t what I want to hear, and I can’t accept that a meeting with similarly afflicted strangers is the miracle solution to all my problems.

I attended Alcoholics Anonymous 1-2 times a week for 8 months after a terrifying and soul-crushing relapse. At the time, it was the warm room I needed, filled with soft, kind voices and understanding, often broken faces.

I had felt broken too.

The meetings were intimidating at first. I didn’t know the lingo, the etiquette, or any of the unspoken rules and expectations.

I sat in the back most of the time but was comfortable enough to tell the room, “I’m Lindsey, I’m an alcoholic,” when it came time for introductions.

At the beginning of an AA meeting, members read excerpts from The Big Book (the spiritual text of Alcoholics Anonymous), which is where my first resistance comes into play.

Chapter 3 from The Big Book notes that being an alcoholic makes you “bodily and mentally different from your fellows”.

All too often, people suffering from addiction feel that they are bad or weak compared to everyone around them. We live in a culture that frequently treats people with addictions as if their problem is caused by a moral deficiency. An otherness.

While I understand how this idea might function to strip alcoholics and addicts of their shame re: a lack of control, I do not find comfort in being told my suffering is wholly different from the non-addicts.

Another core philosophy of Alcoholics Anonymous that does not resonate with me is that I need to surrender. Surrender myself to God, admit that my life is unmanageable and that I can no longer be trusted to be in control of it myself.

For me, the very opposite is what I’m after. I want to trust myself again. I want to feel empowered. I want to regain control of my life, not hand it over to some other entity outside of myself.

During the first few meetings I attended, I tried my best to open up and socialize with my fellow alcoholics. But fostering a community through AA wasn’t without its conditions. I would need to adhere to the AA philosophies I did not agree with.

While I recognize AA has helped many people who suffer from addiction, it should not be touted as the only guaranteed way of maintaining sobriety. There are other ways if this doesn’t work for you.

Imagine you are diagnosed with a life-threatening illness. Instead of offering you medication or psychotherapy with a licensed professional, your doctor prescribes group meetings with other sick patients and tells you that your cure is dependent on you following a 12-step, non-medical guidebook alongside them.

Oh, and that many of the 12 steps require you to plead directly to a God you may not believe in.

If you don’t accept this treatment plan, that means you are not ready or do not truly wish to heal.

I had thyroid cancer when I was a teenager. While I was in the hospital, I received countless well wishes, prayers, and even a prayer blanket that my mother’s friend lovingly made with her church group. All of these things were comforting and appreciated. But without medical intervention—my thyroidectomy, radiation, and subsequent daily medication—I would still be sick.

AA did not feel like a medicine that was working for me.

Attending the rooms won’t help me understand the why behind my cravings and addiction. In fact, AA would do nothing to ease the cravings, other than comfort me in knowing that other people have suffered and lived through the same.

A 12-step program may be good medicine for some, but it’s not medicine for all. There is no cure-all for addiction and no one-size-fits-all approach to recovery.

Alcoholics Anonymous is a lifeline to many, which I don’t want to disqualify in any way. I have seen it work, it just hasn’t worked for me. And my resistance to participate in a 12-step program doesn’t mean I am not ready to get sober or that I don’t want recovery bad enough.

(There is nothing in this world I want more.)

Instead, I feel the persistent need to look inward, to understand my cravings better, and to be kind and gentle to myself in the process. My recovery rests with me. Not with finding a Higher Power, but in discovering my Higher Self.