Twelve Steps

Hi everyone. I’ve been to a few meetings, but I haven’t spoken up yet. My name is… it doesn’t actually matter. This is supposed to be anonymous anyway, right?

But I do have a problem. A serious one.

I don’t remember exactly how it started. Actually, that’s a lie. I do that from time to time.  But I don’t think that’s the problem here. Everyone lies. And not everyone is here. So that can’t be it.

I can already see some of you believe I’m in denial. But hear me out.

The lies I tell in the world are mostly harmless. Doesn’t disrupt anything for the most part. Like, when a maitre d’ asks something like “Oh, I’d be happy to seat you if you are staying at the fancy-schmancy hotel” and I’m not. But like, my money is just as good as everyone else’s. So why do you actually care?

I feel like that’s all we can ask of anyone. I know people who lie a hell of a lot more and do far more harm. I know we all do. And none of them are getting forced to come here. So that can’t be it, right?

I see the sponsors getting antsy, I’ll move on. I guess that’s akin to heresy here. But if you’d like to tell me where that line of reasoning is wrong, I would be happy to hear it.

Nothing? Okay. Let’s move on.

I remember the first time. I felt proud, actually.  Like I had done something that mattered. That I had captured something that just wasn’t out there. Something different. Something beyond the rules.

I know one of the ideas here is to admit that that feeling isn’t true. To admit to myself that my story is not fundamentally different than anyone else’s. That I’m not special and the rules still apply.

I’m still having a hard time with that one. By definition, aren’t we all a bit different? It’s not like I’m plagiarizing someone else’s experience. I know the overarching themes aren’t anything particularly different, but isn’t that true of everything? You can’t own general concepts. And I did it in a way that resonated and felt true to me.

Yeah yeah. Delusional, I know. But every single person I talked to agreed. Indeed, if you’d like me to tell you exactly what happened and tell me it’s utter trash, I’m happy to do so.

Still no takers? Interesting. Anyone else find that interesting? That it’s garbage until you ask someone to verify it is? Then, all of a sudden, no one wants to make that call?

Yes sir, I’m sure your story is quite good too. Well, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Though, if you actually believe that, why did you admit it wasn’t? You had to say that to get to where you are. I mean, I already said my piece on lying, but that seems far more harmful. Telling struggling addicts that they have to say their story is bad when you don’t think yours is? Seems like a way to perpetuate something far more horrific than taking an empty table at a restaurant. Something that takes dreams and forces the dreamer to feel they are flawed just for having them. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Isn’t this supposed to be my time? Don’t I get to tell my story? Isn’t that the whole point of this meeting? How long did you drone on your first time? Doesn’t anyone find it funny that we are free to share as long as we want, but only if we say what we are supposed to?

Okay. Fine. I admit it. I think this whole thing is dumb. Actually, that’s not a great word for it. I think this whole thing is a tragedy. This doesn’t pull you out of denial, it puts you into it. It makes you deny your own humanity. Your own agency. Sure, you may now have a life that conforms to what you are “supposed” to do. But are you really okay having that dictated to you? I’m not. It feels too shallow; like I am only alive in the most technical sense of the term.

For those who are happy, I’m so glad this system has helped you. I really am. If you would rather give up, that’s your prerogative. This system is more than happy to take that from you and you will live a clean yet prescribed life. But I don’t want to be here. I am not ready to give up. Sure, I might fail, but at least I will have failed.

So, yeah. I have a problem. And it’s one that I don’t think can get fixed here. It’s one I don’t know if it can be fixed or if I even want it to be. I knew that coming in. I just figured I’d bide my time, do what I had to and move on.

But I severely underestimated how depressing it would be to be a witness to this. To watch people resign themselves to stale coffee and doughnuts firsthand. Those refreshments aren’t just unsatisfying, they’re a metaphor.

As long as you are coming here every week, this will define who you are. That’s the whole point of saying your name and giving a speech about how terrible you are. That’s the whole point of coming regularly. It’s to attach that label to your internal identity.

I think I have to come to five more of these. I won’t be disruptive again; I highly doubt the sponsors will let me talk without having cleared me first. But I wanted to make my position understood. If any of you decide you want to give life another try in the driver’s seat, it will have been worth it. That doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t cut back or that your struggles are not valid. We are here for a reason, after all.

But I refuse to admit that I am powerless.

******

NOTE: I can already tell that this story is going to ruffle some feathers. As such, I'm working on a proof of concept companion piece. I will update this footer with that link when it is available. :)