Tag: smart recovery

  • How AA Hijacked Addiction Science and Came to Dominate Treatment: An Interview with Joe Miller

    How AA Hijacked Addiction Science and Came to Dominate Treatment: An Interview with Joe Miller

    The scientists at Yale liked what AA did, but they did not by any stretch think that AA was a cure-all for alcoholism. Neither, by the way, did Bill Wilson.

    Back when he was struggling to control his drinking, Joe Miller failed on a nightly basis. He would get stumbling drunk every evening, and suffer through every day. His treatment providers all delivered the same message:

    “Go to Alcoholics Anonymous.”

    That was hardly surprising advice — AA has long dominated alcoholism treatment in the United States. But Miller, an English professor at Columbus State University in Georgia, eventually learned that numerous other options were available to him at the time, such as Naltrexone, SMART Recovery, and Moderation Management. Why hadn’t anybody mentioned them?

    That is the question that Miller sets out to answer in The Us of AA, a slender, provocative book that tells the story of how Alcoholics Anonymous grew into the gargantuan organization that we know today, even though some evidence suggests that other treatments may be more effective.

    Miller is not “anti-AA.” He believes that there is little to be lost — and perhaps much to be gained — by trying 12-step solutions. But he adds that alcoholism is more complex than the AA model suggests. Miller holds that problem drinkers should explore an array of potential strategies, not just one. Though he writes with powerful indignation, The US of AA is not a tendentious or overly polemical book; it is based on careful analysis of a huge and diverse range of sources.

    I had the pleasure of speaking to Joe by phone on May 11, 2019. This interview is lightly edited for length and clarity.

    Many people know a bit about how Bill Wilson helped start Alcoholics Anonymous, but you argue that Marty Mann may have played a more pivotal role in building AA. What do we need to know about her?

    Absolutely, I think she is largely responsible for our nationwide concept of alcoholism as a disease, and our idea that AA is the go-to cure for alcoholism. She ran one of the most brilliant PR campaigns of the 20th century. She helped build a huge network with local chapters across the country, which distributed information at the individual level and the community level, [then progressed] to lobbying in state houses, and eventually, the federal government.

    Alcoholics Anonymous has the 11th Tradition, which states, “Our public relations policy is based on attraction rather than promotion.” But Mann started out being a spokesperson for AA in the New York area — she was an excellent public speaker — and during that process, she developed a vision for a national campaign that would bring about a new understanding of alcoholism.

    You say in the book Marty Mann, and others in AA, were adamant that alcoholism should be understood as a disease.

    Yes. From the beginning, that was part of AA’s cure mechanism. AA said that alcoholism is not a moral failing. Rather, it’s an indication that something is wrong with you physiologically or psychologically (or some combination of the two). It’s beyond your control. You need to believe this is a disease.

    One thing Marty Mann did was reach out to a scientist at Yale, named Bunky Jellinek, who was kind of an odd character. (There’s some mystery about whether he had even earned a college degree.) But, by all accounts, he was an extremely energetic person, really passionate about the problem of alcoholism, and he seized upon Mann’s idea. He says, “Okay, we can have this PR campaign and it will help shore up our scientific research. We’ll sell the public on alcoholism as a medical problem and not a moral failing, and this will help us.”

    To boil this whole story down, the scientists got the cart before the horse. They didn’t have the money to research their theory that alcoholism was a physiological disease, but they got behind that idea, so the money would come. Then, when the money came, they learned that alcoholism was far more complex than the model they were using. The scientists at Yale liked what AA did, but they did not by any stretch think that AA was a cure-all for alcoholism. Neither, by the way, did Bill Wilson.

    That was something I learned in your book. I was surprised by Bill Wilson’s intellectual humility.

    All throughout his career, he could see that AA was not working for everybody. He worried about AA beliefs hardening into dogma, and he said “Just because something works for us, that doesn’t mean it will work for everyone.” Some of his later work was devoted to trying to find ways to get people other types of help.

    All along, the folks who were not beholden to AA’s story — i.e., the scientists who weren’t — had the sense that alcoholism is this really complex problem, which could be approached in numerous ways. At Yale, when Marty Mann was doing her campaign, researchers were developing treatment programs in Connecticut — some pilot programs. And AA was just one small part of them. It was very much like what science nowadays says is the way to go: You’ve got to use an array of different approaches to tackle alcoholism. It’s different for everybody.

    Today, many treatment programs are rooted in AA doctrine. And you say in the book that some forces in the treatment industry actively tried to suppress other approaches to helping people.

    It actually goes back to the 1960s. This psychiatrist in England, named D. L. Davies, found that a significant number of patients who went through alcoholic treatment programs later resumed drinking at levels he described as “normal.” He wrote a paper on his findings, and a number of big players in the AA movement disputed the study. One of them was Marvin Block, a doctor from Buffalo who had spearheaded the AMA’s (American Medical Association) campaign to recognize alcohol as an illness. Block said, “Well, the [people who learned to drink normally] must not be real alcoholics,” even though these men had been hospitalized for severe drinking problems.

    Another example is Mark and Linda Sobell. They did a study where they trained people in moderate drinking, and they found that a significantly higher number of them fared better [after practicing controlled drinking] than those in AA. Afterward, there was a fierce attack against them, which was publicized on 60 Minutes. It almost cost them their jobs, and it really set back any work in the area.

    My pet theory is that sobriety spreads in AA through “social contagion.” If a person who is discouraged about their drinking walks into an AA meeting, they’re likely to find a large group of people who have enjoyed substantial periods of sobriety, and who are willing to help them. I think people in AA are mimicking each other’s behaviors and attitudes – just like we do in other phases of life.

    I’ve had two quite long stretches of sobriety in AA, one when I was in college, in Boulder, Colorado, and another for about seven years in the 2000s, in Kansas City. In both cases, it was because I had strong social connections, and healthy routines. In Boulder, the meetings were almost a pretext for us to go out and socialize afterward. For the most part, I found the AA meetings in Kansas City to be insufferable. But there was a meditation house nearby, and after meditating, we’d go out for Mexican food afterwards. And that was enough to help me stay sober.

    But AA itself did not work for me. Especially after going through the steps, and really working them hard — and I really freaking worked them hard! — and hearing people say, “After you do that fourth, boy, it really changes your life.” And hearing them say that, over and over again. I just thought, “No. I do not believe this. It’s fine for you, but I just don’t believe in it.”

    In a recent New York Post article, you talked a bit about your drinking habits now. You practice moderation, but you say it takes some effort. Can you explain?

    It’s going well. I don’t take Naltrexone anymore, but that drug really helped disrupt my drinking patterns. I would take it and almost magically, I would drink about 50 percent less in a night.

    I combined that with that an app called CheckUp & Choices, which was developed by a psychologist, Reid Hester. That’s a kind of cognitive behavioral therapy app, where you do a very extensive questionnaire that gets you thinking about the situations in which you get triggered, and when you drink, and how much you drink. It helps you keep track of your frame of mind about drinking. Exercise is also a key part of my program. Having my spouse on board with this is also huge — evidence suggests this can make a difference, if you have spousal support.

    If you were to find out down the road that this approach does not work for you — if, heaven forbid, you fall back into full-blown alcoholism — are you confident you’ll be willing to revisit your approach?

    Yes. But I don’t see that happening. I see the opposite. I see, down the road, no drinking at all. That’s the direction we’re going. The direction is continually toward drinking less.

    I share many of your thoughts about AA. Sometimes I even have doubts about its strict emphasis on total abstinence and continuous sobriety. I heard a segment on NPR last week suggesting that AA’s chip system may even be counterproductive, because it can cause people who slip up in the program — or who drink very occasionally — to feel demoralized and ashamed. And as any treatment provider will tell you, those are precisely the feelings that may lead to even more drinking.

    That said, I think AA’s line about alcoholism being “cunning, baffling and powerful” is spot-on. People who struggle with addiction or alcoholism are prone to rationalization and self-deception. Everyone is a bit different, but it is obvious that some people should simply never drink under any circumstances whatsoever. If they do drink, the consequences can be devastating. This seems to me a difficult and tricky subject.

    I think the best answer to this is something one of the psychologists I interviewed said to me: if AA works for you, that’s the easiest and most effective solution. Similarly, with moderation, many people find in time that it’s much simpler to just stay away from that first drink than it is to try to control drinking.

    But if you look at large-scale statistics on drinking and recovery, most problem drinkers do not follow the traditional AA path of complete abstinence forever. Even those who are in AA for a while, working the steps and staying sober — statistics show that many will one day have another drink. What’s most dangerous in these cases, I think, is the belief that one drink will lead automatically to alcoholic behavior. That might be true for any given individual, but it’s not the truth for all, and studies have shown that believing it’s true tends to make it true.

    Purchase US of AA: How the Twelve Steps Hijacked the Science of Alcoholism on Amazon. For more about the book and its author, check out Joe Miller’s website.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • 12-Step vs SMART Recovery: Are You Powerless or Making a Choice?

    12-Step vs SMART Recovery: Are You Powerless or Making a Choice?

    The problem with powerlessness is that it becomes all-encompassing and paralyzing. But the idea that addiction is a choice fails to consider many people’s experiences. Maybe there’s a middle ground.

    As someone who attends (and serves/facilitates) both 12-step and SMART meetings, I am struck by how often they are seen as presenting two very different belief systems about addiction. Although I know many recovering people who attend both, or have swapped one for the other, it is generally decreed that they hold completely opposing views. Though both are mutual aid groups based on the premise that connection with others in recovery can strengthen one’s own recovery, 12-step fellowships are based on a program of spiritual principles, while SMART recovery uses an evidence-based, cognitive-behavioral approach.

    Similarities and Differences

    While there is some overlap in the programs themselves — mindfulness in SMART correlates with the 11th step, and SMART’s thought-challenging worksheets are like 10th step inventories — their starting points could not be more different. Step One states that we are “powerless” over our addiction which is often explained by the disease model, even though this was never the original intention of the founders of AA, the pioneering 12-step fellowship. When we are in active addiction, we have lost the power of choice and cannot overcome our addiction alone. SMART takes a different view. Focusing on empowerment rather than powerlessness, we are encouraged to take ownership of our choices and behaviors. Without shaming anyone for their irrational choices, addiction is still ultimately a choice, not a disease.

    The debate between these two approaches has raged for decades, with most people coming down on one side or the other. My intention here is not to rehash these arguments but rather propose that instead of an either/or dualism, concepts of powerlessness versus choice are instead opposite ends of the same spectrum. For many, the truth of their lived experience may be somewhere in the middle, and polarizing views can lead to many people — certainly myself included — feeling that neither viewpoint really “fits.” This is important, because this ongoing debate influences how we treat, perceive, and support those recovering from addiction.

    The Problem with Powerlessness

    The problem with the concept of “powerlessness,” as understood in the context of the 12-step program, is that it becomes all-encompassing. Not only are we said to be in a state of powerlessness when we are in the throes of active addiction and finding it seemingly impossible to stop – an experience many former addicts will recognize all too well — but the dogma that has grown up around the concept over the years tells us this is a permanent state. We will always, even after years of sobriety, be powerless over our addiction, the threat of relapse forever hanging over us and ready to descend the moment we stop attending meetings, working the program, or listening to our sponsor. Neither is our addiction the only thing we are powerless over — we also have no power over “people, places and things.” While this can be a useful maxim in terms of reminding us that we cannot control other people or outcomes, it can also become stultifying, leading to apathy and a sense of complete dependency upon the program. In this view, the second line of the oft-quoted Serenity Prayer — the courage to change the things we can — is all too easily forgotten. 

    Small wonder then that for many, SMART burst onto the scene like a breath of fresh air, telling us that we do have a choice, that we can take ownership of our actions, and that a rational rather than spiritual (assuming that the two are mutually exclusive, an attitude with which I disagree) approach is the best way to recover. SMART claims to have an evidence base, and indeed it does — yet in recent studies it has not been shown to be significantly more or less effective than the 12-step approach. Nevertheless, SMART offers an alternative for those who take issue with being told they will always be powerless. Social justice researchers have pointed out that telling people in minority communities in particular that they have no power and must be dependent on a program forever only increases their sense and experience of oppression.

    Addiction as a Choice Is Equally Problematic

    Yet the idea of addiction as a choice is, I believe, equally problematic. Firstly, no matter how much researchers and SMART advocates stress that a choice model is empowering and should not contribute to stigma, there is no doubt that in terms of the wider society, labeling addiction a choice can all too easily contribute to the criminalizing of those suffering with addiction and substance misuse, not to mention making it easier for insurance or health care providers to refuse to cover the cost of addiction treatment. Also, and this seems to have been somewhat overlooked, blanket statements that addiction is a choice fail to consider the experiences of some significant populations, such as people who are using drugs to self-medicate undiagnosed mental health conditions or to deal with debilitating after-effects of trauma. Simply stating addiction is a choice which they can rationally think their way out of is of little use in such situations and may have the opposite effect, pushing people further into self-destructive cycles. Of course, the 12-step program may also have little to offer in these scenarios.

    If addiction is a choice, it is usually a severely impaired one. Addiction researcher Maia Szalavitz argues in Unbroken Brain that rather than seeing addiction as a chronic disease or a set of bad choices, we recognize the parallels with developmental learning disorders. Like a child with ADHD behaviors, or a teenager caught in a maelstrom of emotional dysregulation, those suffering with addiction (and possibly co-occurring trauma, mental health disorders, or external oppression) find their ability to make rational choices increasingly impaired, until “using” becomes a survival instinct. At this point we may indeed feel utterly powerless. However, we can learn over time to take control back and make better choices.

    Both approaches have something to offer people in recovery — but only if we start recognizing the middle ground and gray areas between the two. It’s time to start tailoring addiction treatment to fit the individual, rather than trying to tailor the individual to fit the treatment.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • Is AA Too Religious for Generation Z?

    Is AA Too Religious for Generation Z?

    “What I try to teach is: if you don’t buy into any kind of a supernatural higher power, navigate the 12-step world, filtering the god-stuff out, working the program in your own way; there is lots that really works.”

    Are today’s mutual-aid recovery groups ready to satisfy Generation-next?

    “More than any other generation before them, Gen Z does not assert a religious identity. They might be drawn to things spiritual, but with a vastly different starting point from previous generations, many of whom received a basic education on the Bible and Christianity. And it shows: The percentage of Gen Z that identifies as atheist is double that of the U.S. adult population.”

    Released early this year, Barna Group’s Generation-Z Report (Americans born between 1999 and 2015) surveyed over 2,000 13 to 18-year-olds. The oldest of this generation turn 20 in 2019.

    According to AA’s most recent triennial membership survey, 1% of AA is under 21—that’s about 20,000 sober teenagers in AA rooms right now. What’s my personal affinity with this demographic? It’s two-fold: I have two millennial children and one 18-year-old stepson; secondly, while I am a grey-haired Baby Boomer, I was a teen at my first 12-step meeting. My 20th birthday was 1980, three months shy of my fourth anniversary clean and sober.

    I was a second-generation AA member and—like Barna’s youth focus group—my worldview seemed incompatible with the old fogies of 12-step rooms. My mother mused about finding god’s will for her from meditation or her daily horoscope. She was such a Virgo, you know. Horoscopes, higher powers, legends of Sasquatch, these were all fictional symbols as far as I was concerned. Reasonable people didn’t take such constructs literally, did they?

    Bob K, like me, is a second-generation AA. He’s currently between historical book projects; Key Players in AA History will soon have a prequel. Bob’s follow-up research will produce a book about pre-AA addiction and treatment. At age 40, Bob made it into AA as a result of his dad 12-stepping him. He also was uncomfortable with the emphasis on “God.” 

    “When I was a month sober, it was ‘God-this, God saved me’ and I was going to put my resignation in. I didn’t think I could stand it in AA any longer. I went to the internet of the day—which back then was the library—and I looked for non-religious alternatives to AA. They had them in California but nothing in Ontario Canada. So it was AA or nothing. If I tried to brave it alone, I’d be drunk; I knew it.”

    Today, Bob enjoys the likeminded company at his Secular AA home group, Whitby Freethinkers, which meets in the local suburban library just East of Toronto. 

    If I were confronting addiction/recovery as a teen today, I wonder if I would go to AA or NA? If AA was once “the last house on the block,” today it’s one house in a subdivision of mutual-aid choices. Today, newcomers have access to Refuge Recovery, SMART Recovery, Secular Organizations for Sobriety (SOS), or Medically Assisted Treatment, none of which existed in the 1970s.

    On Practically Sane, therapist Jeffrey Munn states: “I like to take a practical approach … I’m not a fan of the ‘fluff’ and flowery language that is often associated with the world of psychology and self-help.” Jeffrey came into the rooms at 20, stayed sober for 2 ½ years, relapsed, came back and is now 13 years clean and sober.

    “I was mandated to three 12-step meetings per week to stay in the program I was in. Since I was young I have been agnostic. I wanted to find a higher power that was common sense-based, but in the rooms I felt pulled towards a more dogmatic spiritual idea of higher power. Back then, I needed to come up with my own conception of what was happening on a psychological level.” Recently, Jeffrey wrote and published Staying Sober Without God: the Practical 12 Steps to Long Term Recovery from Alcoholism and Addiction.

    “I looked at SMART Recovery,” Jeffrey tells The Fix. “I looked at Moderation Management, too—that one struck me as being an organized resentment against AA—I wasn’t feeling it. When it comes down to social support and a practical plan of action, it’s hard to beat 12-step programs. What I try to teach is: if you don’t buy into any kind of a supernatural higher power, navigate the 12-step world, filtering the god-stuff out, working the program in your own way; there is lots that really works.”

    Barna reports, “Nearly half of teens, on par with Millennials, say, ‘I need factual evidence to support my beliefs.’” Jeffrey hopes Staying Sober Without God—which joins a growing secular 12-step recovery offering—offers the rational narrative today’s youth crave. Barna calls today’s youth “the first truly post-Christian generation [in America].”

    Certified Master Addiction Counselor David B. Bohl of Milwaukee understands the value of other-oriented care. David tells The Fix: “As head of a 20-bed coed dual-diagnosis treatment center, emerging adults, 18 to 25 years old, came into our care. I wouldn’t say that they universally shrugged off the 12-step approach but almost universally, in reaction to our volunteers, alumni, and traditional AA community, younger clients didn’t want what the volunteers and alumni had. And I wouldn’t say it was the religiosity always. Sometimes it was an age-thing or life approach. So, our recovery management function became that much more important in terms of building individualized treatment that suits everyone.

    “In the USA, 75% of all residential treatment centers identify as 12-step facilitators,” David tells us. “In the simplest form, our job is to introduce people to the language and the concept of the 12 steps and then to introduce the clients to support groups or people in support groups when they are discharged from acute care.

    Where trauma is involved—religious trauma in particular—traditional AA language and rituals trigger that shame they feel from negative formal religion experiences.”

    Let’s put this overbearing religion caution to a real-life test: Suwaida F was the second oldest of 11 children to Somalian refugee parents who fled to Canada in the 1980s.

    “In Kindergarten I didn’t have to wear a hijab; my parents weren’t super religious. I went to an Islamic school in grade one. It was normal for teachers to have belts with them, they would hit you; child abuse was normalized. They didn’t really teach us that much math, science, history. The Islamic teachers weren’t that educated. My parents took me out and put me in public school. Then, some of my mom’s Somalian-Canadian friends started moving their kids to Egypt. My friends would stay in Egypt two years, finish the Qur’an and the girls came back wearing burqas and head-scarves. Some Muslim friends would come to school in their hijab, take them off and put them back on when they went home. We called them The Transformers.

    My parents really wanted us to learn the Qur’an; I don’t speak Arabic, so it was difficult. And I never believed it. I asked my mom and dad, ‘How do you know that this stuff is real?’ They got frustrated and mad and said, ‘Don’t ever ask that question again.’ I knew it wasn’t real. Mom got more and more religious. Pictures of her at age 19 — she wore no head-scarf when she was my age. My mom expected me to be religious and I rebelled. I had to leave home.”

    Suwaida misses her sisters. She feels unwelcome in the family home unless she is dressed in the Islamic custom and that wouldn’t be true to herself. Away from home, Suwaida found the welcoming community she craved in the booze and cocaine culture.

    “It wasn’t a matter of having no money; I had no sense of hope. People at work didn’t know I was hopped from shelter to shelter at night. One winter I was told, ‘Suwaida, you’ve been restricted from every youth shelter in the city of Toronto.’” As addiction progressed, Suwaida recalls an ever-descending patterns of compromises, bad relationships and regrets.

    “Today, it’s like I still never unpack my suitcase; I’m always ready to go.” During a stay at St. Joe’s detox, Suwaida went to her first NA meeting.

    “At 7 PM, a woman spoke. I made it clear that I thought it was stupid; I wouldn’t share. At the end, everyone was holding hands to pray and I said, ‘I’m not holding any of your hands.’ I didn’t go back. When I was discharged, I went drinking at the bar with my suitcase, not knowing where I was going to stay that night.

    My second meeting I consider my first, because I chose it. I thought I should go to AA. I googled atheist or freethinker AA to avoid a repeat of my NA experience. I found Beyond Belief Agnostics and Freethinkers Group on the University of Toronto campus. I went there last February. For a while, I had wine in my travel-mug, and I didn’t say anything. In August I felt like the woman beside me knew I was drinking, and I ask myself, ‘What am I doing?’ So, my next meeting, I went sober. I’ve been clean and sober ever since.”

    Despite the child-violence of Islamic school and rejection from her family, Suwaida isn’t anti-theist. “I do believe in God or in something. I feel like I’m always looking for signs. I don’t believe in a god in the sky but to say there’s nothing beyond all this doesn’t make any sense to me. Sometimes the freakiest things happen. Maybe it’s because I’m a storyteller, I try to make a story out of everything; you think of someone, then they phone you, is that random?

    I feel a part-of in secular or mainstream AA meetings. My self-talk still sounds like, ‘Don’t share Suwaida, you have nothing to add.’ Maybe it comes from not being able to express myself when I was growing up. I have no sense of self. I guess I have something special to offer but I don’t know how to articulate it. It’s hard; I have limited self-confidence.”

    “Give them their voice; listen to them,” is Kevin Schaefer’s approach. He co-hosts the podcast Don’t Die Wisconsin. He’s also a recovery coach.

    “I’ve been in Recovery 29+ years. I’m a substance abuse counselor and I got into addiction treatment through sober living. When I started working in a Suboxone clinic, I came to realize that AA can’t solve everything. I always come from a harm reduction standpoint: meth, cocaine, benzos; I ask, ‘Can you just smoke pot?’ and we start building the trust there.

    Medically Assisted Treatment (MAT) is geared towards this generation. Most kids coming through my door know a lot about MAT, more so than people in AA with the biases and stigma that they bring. Kids sometimes know more than the front-line social workers. Their friends are on MAT, that’s how they gather their information (not to say their information is all correct). But a lot of therapists don’t understand medication. Medication can be a ticket to survival out on the streets.”

    The Fix asked Kevin his opinion on the best suited mutual-aid group for this generation.

    “Most of the generation you’re talking about walks in with anxiety and defiantly won’t do groups.” We talked about the role of online video/voice or text meetings for a tech-native generation. “Yes—where appropriate. Women especially, because from what I’ve seen, most females have suffered from trauma. I have heard women who prefer online recovery; that make sense to me. I’ve been to InTheRooms.com; as professionals we have a duty to know what’s out there. And there are some crazies online.

    If someone has an Eastern philosophy bent, I’ll send them to Refuge Recovery; I’ve been there. If I can, I’ll set them up with somebody that I know can help them. And let’s not forget that some youth, if Christianity is your thing, Celebrate Recovery is amazing — talk about a community that wraps themselves around the substance user. There are movie nights, food, all kinds of extracurricular activities. The SMART Recovery Movement? Excellent. SMART momentum is building in Milwaukee. They are goal-oriented and the person gets supported whether they’re on Suboxone or, in one case I know, micro-dosing with LSD for depression; they’ll be supported either way. My goal with youth is: ‘Try to get to one meeting this month; start slow.’ Don’t set the bar too high and if they enjoy it, then great.

    The 12-step meeting I go to, it’s a men’s meeting. There are people there on medication and they don’t get blow-back. I wish more of AA was like this. When I came in, almost 30 years ago now, I saw all the God-stuff on the walls and I thought, ‘Nah, this isn’t going to work’ but thank G… (laughs), thank the Group of Drunks who said, ‘You don’t have to believe in that.’ The range in my meeting is broad—Eastern philosophy, Native American practices, Yoga, I was invited to Transcendental Meditation meetings at members’ houses. I was fortunate to fall into this group. You know, the first book my sponsor gave me was The Tao of Physics—not The Big Book—it was this 70’s book with Buddhism, Taoism, Hinduism, correlated to physics and contemporary science.”

    So, as to the question that kicked this off, some mutual aid meetings are ready to meet the taste of a new generation; results may vary. Who’s heard: “If you haven’t met anyone you don’t like in AA, you haven’t gone to enough meetings”?

    The reverse is true, also. If the peer-to-peer meetings I’ve sampled seem too narrow or dogmatic, maybe my search for just the right fit isn’t over. And if I don’t want a face-to-face meeting, there’s always Kevin’s podcast, virtual communities like The Fix, or I can order one of Bob or David or Jeffrey’s books if that’s more to my taste.

    View the original article at thefix.com