Answer Addiction

Tag: myths

  • There's Nothing Wrong With You If AA Doesn’t Work

    There's Nothing Wrong With You If AA Doesn’t Work

    It isn’t that you’re incapable of being honest with yourself, or that you’re not working a “program” well enough. You are not too broken, or too far gone.

    I spoke to a friend, Damien, last week. He was devastated at losing someone close to him to alcohol use disorder. What is particularly harrowing about this person’s passing is that it might have been prevented. Damien’s friend was repeatedly pushed toward Alcoholics Anonymous (AA), even though it clearly wasn’t the right fit for him. Just like many others, instead of being supported by peers and professionals and given alternative options, this friend was left feeling that the problem was him.

    “It’s really frustrating to see friends die because the default treatment option doesn’t work for them,” Damien says. “We are losing far too many people with substance use disorder who find 12-step incompatible with their life experiences and belief systems.”

    He goes on to say, “It’s not because they aren’t willing. It’s not because they can’t ‘get it.’ It’s because, for many people, treating addiction requires more than hope, spirituality, and fellowship. And yet, the only option most are presented with is founded on those three pillars. If the recommended treatment for bacterial infections had the same success rate as the 12 steps, then antibiotics would not be our go-to treatment plan for staph infections.”

    My overarching message is: There is nothing wrong with you if AA doesn’t work. It isn’t that you’re incapable of being honest with yourself, or that you’re not working a “program” well enough. You are not too broken, or too far gone. You simply haven’t found the right pathway for you.

    These kinds of beliefs stem from the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous, which states: “Rarely have we seen a person fail who has thoroughly followed our path. Those who do not recover are people who cannot or will not completely give themselves to this simple program, usually men and women who are constitutionally incapable of being honest with themselves.” [emphasis added]

    During my five years of attending countless AA and Narcotics Anonymous (NA) meetings, I have heard many members criticize those who come in and out of the rooms but return to using in between, categorizing them as unwilling, or incapable of being honest. “They just need to surrender to the program and work it like their life depends on it,” was the kind of statement I heard over and over again.

    I threw myself into the program because there were no other options for me in the northwest of England. I was so desperate to find something that would help me that I believed anything members said, even if there was no evidence to back it up. I did a fair amount of perpetuating these myths too. I was instructed to ignore my instincts and critical mind (because that was my “disease talking”), and do what I was told. Giving away my free will to a person in the sky or a church basement seemed weird, but I went with it for several years. After all, it had worked for many other members.

    With a period of sobriety under my belt, I couldn’t ignore my inner doubts any longer. They became louder. It was as though, even after years in recovery, I suddenly woke up. And I started to slowly unpack all the myths I’d been told.

    In particular, I tried to unpack “it works if you work it.” There is substantial evidence that shows there’s no one-size-fits-all method when it comes to recovery. If this program were suitable for everyone with substance use disorders, its success rate would be much higher. The fact is that success rates of 12-step programs vary wildly, from as low as 5 to 8 percent, with dropout rates from 69 to 86 percent, to as high as 42 percent after four years. I should point out that these dropout rates are a reflection of the attrition rates of addiction treatment generally. This underscores the point that the way we treat addiction isn’t appropriate for everyone and we need to get better at personalizing care based on individual circumstances.

    When I moved to the U.S., it was like my world opened up. I saw that despite what I’d been told in AA — that it was the only method for successful recovery — there was actually an open landscape of diverse recovery pathways.

    A leading study shows that tens of millions of Americans have successfully resolved an alcohol or drug problem through a variety of traditional and nontraditional methods. That means:

    • 9 percent recovered with “assisted pathway use” that consisted of mutual-aid groups (45.1 percent), treatment (27.6 percent), and emerging recovery support services (21.8 percent). 95.8 percent of those who used mutual-aid groups attended 12-step mutual aid meetings.
    • Just under half of those who did not report using an assisted pathway recovered without the use of formal treatment and recovery supports.

    I’m aware that an ideal model of treatment, individualized based on the person’s particular medical and psychological needs, is not always available to most people. Not all of us have the luxury of therapeutic treatment from a psychologist or psychiatrist. This is another reason mutual-aid groups are the most accessible form of recovery pathway — they’re free! We’re fortunate in the U.S. to have plenty of other support groups that are not all based on religion, and some have a solid evidence-based program. They include Refuge Recovery, LifeRing Secular Recovery, SMART Recovery, Moderation Management, Wellbriety — among many others listed here — and they have been shown to be equally as successful as 12-step groups.

    A study comparing 12-step groups to alternative mutual aid groups found that LifeRing, SMART, and Women for Sobriety were just as effective as 12-step groups. Study author Dr. Sarah Zemore and her team reported that “findings for high levels of participation, satisfaction, and cohesion among members of the mutual help alternatives suggest promise for these groups in addressing addiction problems.”

    Despite my reporting about AA’s success rate and some of the myths perpetuated by the fellowship, I’m not here to bash AA. I’m here to shine a light on the false statement that it is the only successful way. There are many others. For those AA does work for, I respect your path. We just need to have a clearer picture of what recovery looks like so when someone is suffering, instead of saying they are the problem, we can be better informed to direct them to what may be a more suitable pathway. After all, we all have the same goal: recovery.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • 5 Myths About Leaving 12-Step Fellowships

    5 Myths About Leaving 12-Step Fellowships

    We have a responsibility to do whatever we can — even if that means pointing someone to an alternative (non-12-step) pathway of recovery.

    I’ve lost count of the number of conversations I’ve had with people who are frightened to leave 12-step fellowships. They contact me because they heard that I left Alcoholics Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous over a year ago, and want to see if it’s true that I’m okay — that is, stayed sober.

    It’s true: I left 12-step fellowships in March 2017, and not only have I stayed sober, but my resilience, independence, and emotional well-being have grown exponentially. I’d even say that my sobriety has evolved more over the last year than the five years I spent in AA.

    What saddens me the most about these conversations — which echo my own fears of leaving — is that some members of 12-step groups believe sobriety is contingent upon their membership in AA or NA. So deep-rooted is this conditioning that they believe that if they stop attending meetings, they will return to using alcohol or drugs. Well-rehearsed 12-step myths say that without a program a person will become a “dry drunk,” or that they lack gratitude. Yet another surefire way of keeping people in the program is to tell them that leaving means they are unwilling to help newcomers.

    My experience, along with that of many others who have left 12-step fellowships, is that these beliefs are dogmatic conditioning. I will never tire of debunking these myths.

    Last month, a woman who spent over 20 years in a fellowship contacted me because she was tired of attending, fearful about leaving, and concerned that people mistakenly thought the length of her sobriety meant that she had the secret to long-term recovery. Such was her sense of responsibility that she blamed herself for the unfortunate fate of some people in the program. I’m saddened that someone in long-term recovery felt so confused and frightened about leaving.

    Today, my recovery represents independence. I now understand recovery as a knowing of myself and reclaiming my instincts. After six years in recovery, I’d like to think that I can make decisions based on what is right for me, rather than on the judgments of others if if I go against the grain. But this isn’t the reality for many who attend 12-step groups and they believe they have no control over their own sobriety other than showing up at meetings and working the program.

    These are just a few examples of the reasons many people have contacted me to discuss these very real fears and they’re always the same. Here is what I have to say about some of these common myths:

    • How will I help newcomers if I leave?

    First off, newcomers don’t always show up in meetings. They need someone to tell them that a meeting exists before they know to walk through that door. Second, there are a million ways to share a message of recovery: writing about your journey; giving peer support at a recovery center; sharing your experience in a treatment center or prison; offering help to someone who is struggling; or telling your friends, family, and doctor that they can refer someone who needs help to you. By leading a fulfilling life in recovery, you’re providing a real example to others that healthy and happy recovery is possible. I’d argue that all of these examples of helping a newcomer are equally, if not more, powerful than sharing your story and your telephone number in a meeting.

    • If I leave, I’ll relapse..

    This most pervasive myth of all has proven false for me and for hundreds of people I know who have left 12-step meetings. We feel a sense of freedom from breaking free of the dogmatic messaging and have taken back our power by choosing a pathway that is right for us.

    If someone wants to use drugs, they will find a way to do so whether they attend meetings or not. I don’t use substances because I choose not to, and because I care enough about myself to stop harming my body and preventing my ability to lead a fulfilling life. I no longer believe that I have a monster living inside of me, or a disease doing pushups in the parking lot waiting for me to mess up. Those are simply myths designed to keep me surrendering my will to an illusory bearded man who lives in a church basement, listening to people’s sad stories.

    • AA is the only way to recover.

    This statement is simply untrue. There are many effective pathways to recovery. In fact, a leading study shows that tens of millions of Americans have successfully resolved an alcohol or drug problem through a variety of traditional and nontraditional means. Specifically, 53.9 percent reported “assisted pathway use” that consisted of mutual-aid groups (45.1 percent), treatment (27.6 percent), and emerging recovery support services (21.8 percent). 95.8 percent of those who used mutual-aid groups attended 12-step mutual aid meetings. However, just under half of those who did not report using an assisted pathway recovered without the use of formal treatment and recovery supports.

    Another study comparing 12-step groups to alternative mutual aid groups found that LifeRing, SMART, and Women for Sobriety were just as effective as 12-step groups. Study author Dr. Sarah Zenmore and her team reported that “findings for high levels of participation, satisfaction, and cohesion among members of the mutual help alternatives suggest promise for these groups in addressing addiction problems.”

    • If you don’t feel suited to a 12-step program, you’re incapable of being honest with yourself.

    We’ve all heard of that paragraph in AA’s Big Book, “Rarely have we seen a person fail who has thoroughly followed our path. Those who do not recover are people who cannot or will not completely give themselves to this simple program, usually men and women who are constitutionally incapable of being honest with themselves.” Really?! What about atheists who feel uncomfortable at the idea of handing over their life to God? I’d argue that it is being honest with yourself to acknowledge that the 12-step program doesn’t align with your values and beliefs.

    It is harmful to suggest that you are the problem if AA doesn’t work for you. If the 12 steps are so powerful, how come their success rate varies wildly from 20 percent to only 60 percent? Shaming isn’t the answer to long-term recovery — that only deepens an already desperately low self-esteem. Supporting someone as they find the right pathway is a far more compassionate, helpful approach. When so many people are dying from substance use disorder, there is no room for shame. We have a responsibility to do whatever we can — even if that means pointing someone to alternative pathways of recovery — so that we have a fighting chance at saving some lives.

    • My desire to leave is my disease talking.

    You don’t have a monster with a different voice living inside you. Yes, our behavior changes when we use drugs, and yes, drugs override our ability to make rational choices. We also have a desire to avoid painful realities — that’s what got most of us in the habit of using drugs in the first place. But attributing your realization that something isn’t right for you to a walking, talking disease is utter nonsense. I decided to leave because I was sick and tired of entering church basements in a cloud of cigarette smoke to hang out with people eating candy, drinking tar-like coffee, talking through people’s shares, and listening to the same old story on repeat. There was a time that community was helpful, but a point came where I wanted to go out and live my life. After all, this program was designed to be a bridge to living normally.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • Recovery Myths That Can Hurt You

    Recovery Myths That Can Hurt You

    I could be saying how well I was doing, while the psychic megaphone over my head screamed, “Can’t you see how lonely I am?” Not surprisingly, I wasn’t drawing healthy people into my world.

    When the words “feelings aren’t facts” first pierced my brain, I was hooked. My baseline was misery, so it was a huge relief to believe I was lying to myself. Over the years, I repeated this gospel, too. Until I saw it for what it was—a form of emotional abuse.

    I get it. Many of us have a tendency to dramatize that we’re unaware of, largely because our addiction made life a fuckshow. But our lives continue even after we put our substances down, and the show rolls on. When my sober boyfriend of five years died, I was 24. And five years clean. The tragedy was real.

    In truth, I’d barely learned to identify my feelings. My therapist had finally resorted to pulling out a chart with stick figure faces, each labeled with an emotion. “Pick one,” she encouraged. I needed that chart for a long time. When I tried to express myself in the real world, however, I had a very different experience. 

    “Don’t believe your feelings,” I was cheerily told as I moped around the rooms. But my emotions were the only thing that seemed solid. Even if I wasn’t great at describing them, I experienced the world through my senses. My mindscape was a constant stream of love and hate, desire and abstinence, hunger and disgust.

    I tried to act the part, fake it till I could make it past this sadness, but my actual sentiments came out despite these efforts. I sensed that I was making the people around me uncomfortable. Left alone, my mind went wild. This grieving is going on too long. He was only your boyfriend. No one will ever love you like that again.

    Trying to change my mind about how I felt wasn’t the same as changing my feelings. Yet ignoring my feelings and listening to my supposedly rational mind felt equally horrible. The only thing it did help me succeed at was questioning my every move. I must be doing this wrong, I’d think, vowing to hide better.

    The Psychic Megaphone

    There was just one problem with suppressing the truth—it didn’t work. I didn’t merely sense I was repelling people, I was. I could be saying how well I was doing, while the psychic megaphone over my head screamed, “Can’t you see how lonely I am?” Not surprisingly, I wasn’t drawing healthy people into my world. This had the added bonus of giving me something new and shiny to mull over. These people are messed up!

    My feelings, I now know, were never the issue. It was the stories I told about them that caused the problem, a habit that, like any addiction, got stronger every time I did it. I turned my unworthiness into legend.

    I was scared, too, that I’d be overwhelmed by my emotions. In some sense, I was right to be afraid. Overwhelm reeks of powerlessness, and when I’m powerless, I’m tempted to act out—smoke, spend, eat, fuck, drink.

    I had to learn to grant a healthy to respect my feelings, to pay attention to them without reacting. This is also known as self-soothing, which many people are taught, or learn. But I don’t know of any addicts who sober up with this ability intact. I didn’t get anywhere near it for a decade in sobriety. I’m slow.

    The light at the end of the tunnel is this: when we stop believing our feelings, they lose their power to stop us in our tracks.

    But How Is It Emotional Abuse?

    Telling a person not to believe their feelings is the same as saying they shouldn’t trust themselves. It’s a recipe for slavish dependence. Who are we suggesting that person trust? Why, God of course! And how do we connect with God? Through the steps. The steps lead toward accountability in our lives, and also, prayer and meditation. What happens when that reflection leads back to our emotional lives and we disbelieve ourselves? Some of us develop co-dependent relationships with sponsors, or take hostages in the form of sexual partners. In my case, I relapsed.

    I was desperate to be better already, but I was stuck in disavowing my sorrow. That loop gave me no way to address my grief. I had to believe in something, so I created stories that I could believe, stories that had little to do with the emotions that created them. When telling myself I was garbage got boring, I’d romanticize my addiction instead.

    Psychologist and meditation teacher Tara Brach says that when we disconnect from the entirety of our experience this way, we put ourselves into a trance that keeps us from living fully. This concept of an “unlived life” feels more relevant than the idea that I can’t know happiness if I don’t know sadness, because it points to a solution.

    Now, 22 years away from that relapse, I’d say that suggesting feelings aren’t facts is contrary to the core of 12-step recovery—the freedom to choose a Higher Power. The formula is spiritual. The steps are designed to awaken spirituality within us. If denouncing our needs and desires as liars is part of the program, then this places a condition on our spiritual awakening. And it’s not a condition I’m willing to accept. My spiritual life has to be big enough to encompass the full spectrum of who I am. I’m not interested in “growing up” to be without feelings, good or bad.

    I’ve spoken about this with friends in long-term recovery. “I don’t get it,” one woman said, unable to wrap her mind around the idea that her feelings were legitimate, even after more than 20 years of sobriety.

    I explained it was like being in traffic, and getting angry when someone cuts you off. “I want to run that car off the road!” I might think. It’s true, in the moment I was mad. But my thoughts told a lie. I have zero desire to use my car as a weapon. Am I hair-trigger rage-y in traffic? Maybe something else is going on. Or maybe I was just startled. Our minds exist to find danger, and so tend to be negative.

    The first thing I had to learn to do—rather than criticize myself for being angry, which leads to identifying with the idea that I’m an angry person—was to find comfort. In the car I can put my hand on my chest and remind myself everything is ok.

    Another person commented, “Facts don’t change. Feelings do!”

    I understood where she was coming from, that feelings are malleable. But that doesn’t mean I should deny their reality. Facts have been known to evolve, too. The surest way for an emotion to become fixed is by gaslighting myself. Then my thoughts get murky, and it’s hard not to identify with the thinking. Like with the car example, if I don’t allow myself to see my anger for what it is—mortal fear, or perhaps anger at my boss—I get trapped in, “There’s my anger. I am such an angry person.”

    In fact, I count on my changing emotions—it’s the exact freedom I was seeking in a bottle. By allowing my emotions to settle, I can master the thoughts that arise. If I don’t, who’s running the show? The boyfriend who rejected me? The kids who called me Stinky? My mom?

    When René Descartes made his famous declaration, he was looking for an irrefutable statement. He believed if he could doubt his existence, that was proof of it. But what’s doubt if not a feeling? My thoughts are another matter: my best thinking got me into rehab. I think, therefore I am a liar.

    View the original article at thefix.com