…by Eric Nada…
This remarkable guest post dives back into the controversy surrounding the rigidity of the 12-step approach.
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I left 12-step involvement after 20 years of committed membership. It was surprisingly difficult. Of course, it was difficult to stop shooting heroin too — so difficult that I eventually stopped trying to stop. By then, the course of my life was almost totally dictated by my rigid attachment to the heroin itself and by my overwhelming fear of withdrawal. By the time I finally quit, 24 years ago, I was homeless, panhandling for hours a day, supplementing my begging with daily theft, and facing a mandatory prison sentence on felony distribution charges. I had attended over a dozen rehabilitation and detoxification centers but made no progress with recovery — until I begrudgingly committed myself to the 12-step program. And while this worked, at least insofar as helping me break my bond to drugs, it did so at a cost: I had to join a powerful subculture that required me to ignore key elements of my personality and my beliefs.
(See Eric’s Guest Memoir, which conveys the details of his experience.)
In the beginning, I thrived through the social connections I developed. I felt understood, and supported for the first time in years. Following this initial connection to its members, I slowly began to accept other elements of the 12-step philosophy, allowing them to influence and shape my views on the nature of addiction and, in some ways, on my approach to life.
I estimate that I spent at least 5800 hours in meetings, not to mention the hours I spent both in sponsorship and casual conversation with other members. Meetings were spent in repeated discussions extolling the validity and certainty of 12-step truth — an almost daily feedback loop of self-reinforcement. This was carried out with others who, by the very nature of selection bias, were guaranteed to agree with me. Within a year, I was thoroughly conditioned. I came to believe that I was plagued by a fixed condition that required a very particular solution — a solution that didn’t evolve and was unaffected by any personal changes I might make along the way. It’s not an exaggeration to describe the basic 12-step formula as follows: You have an unchangeable condition, X, the cure for which is Y and only Y. If you stop doing Y, you will eventually die of X.
For almost two decades I believed in and applied this formula. But as I matured and grew, expanding my understanding of the mechanics of addiction and emotional development, I couldn’t help but begin to question its certainty. Eventually, I realized that I had developed a very real dilemma which pitted my evolving instincts against my 12-step training. I found myself at a crossroad: do I trust myself or do I continue to trust the 12-step message? Ultimately, I decided to trust myself.
The program had “programmed” me and I needed deprogramming. This was actually a precarious process and one that is rarely discussed, let alone studied. Immediately upon leaving, I felt a great relief. But any positive and encouraging feelings I had were initially accompanied by feelings of guilt, shame, and self-doubt. I became aware of a deep internal message that challenged the idea of trusting myself over the 12-step dogma I had lived by for so long. Also, from deep inside came a haunting temptation: to play out the scenario of relapse and a return to out-of-control drug use, viewed as the inevitable consequence of leaving the 12-step fold. It was an established meditation practice that helped hone my awareness. Only through the use of mindfulness was I able to decipher the 12-step message and avoid its prophecy. I also spent much time online scouring the internet for stories and forums written by others who had made similar moves. It has been over three years now, and although it is no longer acutely difficult, I am still sorting out and ridding myself of the last tendrils of doubt and conditioned 12-step messaging.
We are born to be conditioned. We are, indeed, conditioned even before we are born — molded by the experiences of the woman carrying us in her womb. Without conditioning there would only be chaos. There would be no tribe or community, no culture or customs. Our human egos need these containers to make sense of and navigate daily life. But obviously not all conditioning is healthy or optimal. We need to examine and upgrade our conditioning continuously as we grow and require different versions of containment. I have never been so conditioned, obsessed, or emotionally rigid as when I was using heroin. And certainly the conditioning I developed through my 12-step membership aided in breaking through this rigidity. It was a definite upgrade. But as I continued to grow, I didn’t take regular stock of whether I was still benefiting from my 12-step involvement; because, by its own definition, the 12-step approach can’t be outgrown.
I have often heard discussions suggesting that 12-step recovery would be more effective if it weren’t so rigid, if it were truly permissible for members to come and go without judgement. But I don’t think it would work. It’s the underlying rigidity that accompanies 12-step involvement that makes it potentially effective. Unfortunately, I commonly see this hard-lined rigidity follow long-term 12-step members into other areas of their lives.
Optimal mental health is found neither in rigidity nor in chaos, but in the nuanced flexibility that lies between these poles. Recovery, too, can be nuanced. There just isn’t a one-size that fits all, and recovery needs room to evolve, especially after the initial bond between person and drug has been broken. I still have moments when I deeply want those 20 years back, to live fully, untethered from the “program” that scripted so many precious hours of my life and prescribed so many of my relationships and personal interactions. I do not condemn the 12-step approach to addiction, and there are certainly other positive components that could be discussed. But ever-present is its underlying rigidity. And as I look back at its stifling influence over half of my life, I have yet to decide whether the benefits were worth the damage.
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