The Alcoholic Label

I’m grateful for the temperature finally crawling back to a normal winter range again. I’m grateful for having the next few days off to go on a mini trip for my 40th. I’m grateful that all the old wiring and pipes in our home survived this atypical weather. I’m grateful for my comfortable, roomy nook where Harper sits by me as I tackle my day. I’m grateful for a run where I saw Mt. Blue Sky so beautiful and clearly framed by the clouds that hovered over it like protective blanket. I’m grateful for the tingly feeling I get in my fingertips when I’m excited. I’m grateful for hearing a qualification that reminded me just how much muck we alcoholics can survive through in our addiction, but once we switch to following this sober AA path with integrity so much love and joy can reemerge in our life. I’m grateful for meetings teaching me how to expand my sober thinking and get outside my comfort zone.

I was reading the Doctor’s Opinion over the weekend with my sponsee and we started discussing what does labeling oneself as an alcoholic truly mean. It was an interesting conversation that got me thinking about how my feelings on this self-categorization have evolved.

Those first few months as an alcoholic for me meant being steeped in shame, regret, and simply trying to survive another day by somewhat grudgingly going through the motions of what people were telling me to do: attend meetings, connect with fellows, talk to my sponsor, read the Big Book, start the Steps, don’t go to a liquor store, adopt healthy routines, eat well, sleep early, and keep repeating all that until I experience a psychic change. Because I was so physically and mentally drained from alcohol’s impact I was luckily a more receptive sponge to the suggestions presented by others than I’d ever been before.

It wasn’t until Step 4 though where I really started understanding what being an alcoholic longer-term meant for me. The internal work I did around this particular Step truly changed me. Previously I was kind of confused when people would use the phrase “do the work in AA”. I kept wondering where are the worksheets I need to fill out or the XYZ service commitments I need to finish to keep graduating to the next phase of my sobriety. However Step 4 is when I – perhaps for the first time ever in life – honestly sat down with my thoughts for a sustained period, dug into the chaos of my past, and noticed the throughlines that explained my behavior. Step 4 provided the structure I needed to recognize the root causes for my historical approach to matters, which then inspired me to investigate ways to course correct as I slowly re-entered the real world.

Fo example, if I was steeped in fear or had the need to be in control (big Step 4 defects of mine), I became better at more swiftly identifying those mental states and tacking on a positive next right action to move away from the negativity. That positive next right action could be going for a run, writing, gratitude lists, attending a meeting, owning my part in the moment, or pausing. Regularly inhabiting AA spaces continually expanded these roster of next right actions, which I leaned into more easily with sustained practice.

Returning to the question of what it means to be an alcoholic, I believe it’s now beyond just having an allergy to alcohol. It’s also no longer about having shame or regret for this part of my identity. It’s about living an informed, well-adjusted life. It’s about knowing how to navigate through missteps with honesty and grace, rather than relying on half-baked shortcuts. It’s about showing love and empathy to all of humanity inside and outside these rooms. It’s about always being curious around how my mind works. It’s about discovering new ways of living that serve to promote self-acceptance and serenity. It’s about being of service to my community and expecting nothing in return except the self-esteem I get from doing esteemable acts.

I love that AA has transformed the world for me into something less scary, sinister, manipulative, binary, or depressing and more accessible, nuanced, exciting, hopeful, and ultimately quite beautiful. While I will always, always, always have to remember I have this allergy to alcohol, I can also appreciate that this allergy opens up the opportunity for me to explore living in more meaningful ways than I ever could drunk. That is the blessing I find today from labeling myself an alcoholic.

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