"We're waiting for [substances] to jump out of you in the parking lot because you were out there doing push-ups. My life was consumed by substances for all that time, and you're constantly waiting for something to get you."

Guest Joan points to something spoken ad nauseum, but not in her framing. We speak so much about using and relapse in AA, but never that this dialogue keeps us constantly thinking about substances.

Isn't the point of sobriety to remove yourself from this use disorder—the obsession?

It wasn't until Joan learned about the abstinence violation effect that she could understand why this zoom in on drinking and using wasn't serving her.

The abstinence violation effect (AVE) is a psychological reaction where a minor slip or mistake turns into a full relapse because a person views the initial lapse as a total personal failure

What Happens During AVE

• All-or-Nothing Thinking: Believing that breaking a rule even once means you have completely failed.
• Negative Emotions: Experiencing intense guilt, shame, and hopelessness.
• The "What’s the Point?" (bucket of fuck-its in AA land) Attitude: Deciding that since you already ruined your streak, you might as well give in completely.
• Escalation: Turning a single mistake (like eating one piece of junk food or having one drink) into a massive, uncontrolled recurrence of the old habit.

It's the first time I've met someone who was told by her own sponsor (on multiple occasions) that she needed to leave AA. She did; it was killing her. 13 Steppers, love bombers, and a home group that really took "groupthink" way too far had caught up with her. She gave her all to this program—for 26 years—only to be called "crazy" and banished.

She's new to going it without AA; a program where all her friends still congress. She is still deprogramming; remembering to not overextend herself, say yes to everything, and sacrifice her own needs for others. Her own therapist told her she's not allowed to help people right now. She's broken that rule twice; it's simply a challenging task.

For those who don't know, 13 stepping is when a member of authority preys on a vulnerable member, typically someone new or very young. 13 steppers are commonly AA heroes, and if they're not, a sponsor will tell you to just ignore them—dead stop. There are no repercussions for the 13 stepper, but victims are often blamed for being in their line of fire. It's up to the vulnerable member to try a different meeting, pray for the 13 stepper, and so on.

I would be remiss to say that part of the AA defense is that "not all meetings are like that" and "not all male members are like that," but plenty are, and vulnerable members are not set up to defend themselves. So how does anyone avoid this predatory environment if they already have a target on them? Has anyone ever actually been predatory-free by "trying another meeting"? There are predators in women's meetings, too.

People who have had enough of this 13-step program are told they have a bad program, that they're crazy, and that they asked for it. A place of safety turns into the most unsafe environment at the flip of a coin.

Joan never stopped speaking about these predators, and being gaslit so many times can make anyone feel crazy. Despite all the conditioning and grooming she went through, she still sees how harmful those members could be, and I'm so glad she didn't submit to their demands.

If you're considering leaving AA, your reasons are valid. Even when we think we're fully programmed into a group thinking that doesn't serve us, the real versions of ourselves are in there—screaming to get out.

You're welcome on the other side; we're having a lot of fun.

Thank you, Joan; you brave, smart spirit!

If there is anyone who can help people deprogram from the cult of AA, it's Liz.

Liz was a teenager when she dropped into AA meetings. The early 2000s were a mindfuck for millennial teens; Skinspo was completely unregulated and encouraged, ADHD was just a punchline, and that nervous, crawly feeling of an artist was impossible to articulate. If you couldn't tell, that was Liz, making her an easy target for these rooms to manipulate. To them, it wasn't neurodivergence, CPTSD, or starvation—just character defects that only the steps could fix.

Being pushed into the 12-step and then going through the rehab gauntlet is a special flavor of recovery that isn't for the weak of heart. And if you know anything about those rehabs, they're always 12-step-based and for-profit. After completing those rehabs, where can you work? What can you do?

Work at that rehab. Liz did that, and then some, working her way up to executive director of the rehab. She witnessed body-brokering, an illegal and predatory practice where third-party recruiters get paid cash, kickbacks, or other perks to refer vulnerable people—usually those struggling with drug or alcohol addiction—to specific treatment centers or sober living homes. This practice is highly illegal, but it is still occurring.

Liz was a die-hard 12-step member, but she couldn't shake the feelings of sponsorship abuse, the junk science, the problematic steps. After years of questioning and pushing down her very strong feelings, she didn't pick up a chip on her 10-year soberversary and broke free. She hasn't looked back, except to spread awareness and help those asking the same questions.

Also in this episode, Liz told me about these "AA Retreats" that have no doctors, no insurance, and no HIPAA laws. They moonlight as B&Bs, but act as very expensive, for-profit rehabs that are run by AA members and apply the 12 Steps to the entire thing. These patients can't leave of their own accord. She told me to call a facility, and I did, and that's all I'll say for now. Liz will be returning to this podcast to break down that call and discuss more about the illegal practices within treatment centers.

Liz doesn't dice words and, to be real, she blew me away. I've been wrestling with how to show up on this podcast. I want to be objective, but I also want to be intolerant. I've honored free will: if it works for you, so be it. But that allows members to silence victims or deflate their experiences. Liz started off the episode with a precursor; her words verbatim:

“If you’re listening to this podcast, it’s because you’re looking for reasons to stay in AA or to validate what you already believe to be true about AA. If you’re here to defend it, then this isn’t the podcast for you. I’m not going to endorse AA. I’m not going to give the empty response of “well, if it works for you, then go for it.” I don’t represent that narrative, and I’m not speaking on behalf of any voice like that. I’m here to speak on behalf of people who have incurred damage and have seen damage by the 12 Step culture and the treatment industry. I’m speaking for the person who is afraid to leave the meeting.”

That's where I stand, and I won't be soft anymore. Thank you, Liz, for joining and teaching me how to approach this whole thing. Your words are endlessly valuable.

This week, I spoke with a remarkable man who Alcoholics Anonymous would deem a "miracle." But he is a miracle on his own accord. The 12 Steps would recoil upon learning he found recovery "his way." That's not how it works! "It works if you work it!"

The 12 Steps were not how Dave worked it.

Oh well, Dave has been sober for over a year now. And it wasn't without his slips, stumbles, and immersive relapses. His sobriety journey started as a teenager, when he first stepped into the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous. As a youngster, it was hard to relate; members weren't talking about first kisses, where they might go to college, or passing the SATs, but about their wives, kids, 401(k)s, or other adult responsibilities. An argument in AA is that people come from all different backgrounds, but with the same "disease" (alcohol use disorder).

Life took him for a ride; some glorious, some terrifying, and he always landed in the same spot: AA. He worked it, and it nearly worked him to death. After switching to SMART Recovery, he learned about ibogaine and 5-MeO-DMT. He took a leap of faith and went down to Mexico...

Tune in to find out what happened.

Show notes for this episode are at patreon.com/cw/inrecovery

Gotta a story or question? I may read it on the podcast! Email recoveryfromaapod@gmail.com

CONTENT WARNING: This episode does discuss suicide.

BONUS episode—what? Two episodes released on one day? Anything for Bill. Want to read Bill's story along with the recording? Here you GO.

Quick note: the podcast software completely crashed and wonked out on me, then erased the ending of this episode. So I had to Frankenstein the episode, and the ending doesn't include my homegirl. But no St. Helena for me! (Bill W. joke)

Thanks, friend, for the special commentary on this episode. Humor is medicine.

Bill W. was many things, but ultimately he left a print on society as we see it today. At the time, AA was advanced, revolutionary, and made people suffering from alcohol use disorder feel seen. But it was made for men like Bill W., not the rest of the world. And today, we should be more inclusive, but the program wasn't designed that way.

Regardless of how you feel about Bill, he succeeded in his mission to be a leader. Founding Alcoholics Anonymous is a major feat, and he really did his big one. Being able to influence and convert them to their "spiritual group" (Christian group) and attract men like Carl Jung is impressive. I can't undermine that.

He doesn't mention his wife, Lois, by name because of the whole anonymity thing, but it is unfortunate that he is evasive about the real damage he did to her. He claimed to not be unfaithful because he was too drunk, but he still had intentions. Essentially, he didn't cheat because of whiskey dick. Darn. And after AA was founded, he had a girlfriend, Helen, for 15 years while staying with Lois. Maybe Bill was our first 13th stepper, since Helen was an AA member.

Helen even received 10% of Big Book royalties in his will after his passing on January 24, 1971. She would die in 1978, and Lois wouldn't die until 1988, having been free from Bill for 17 years.

Lois never spoke of Bill's girlfriend, nor did she disclose his infidelities, even when she started Al-Anon. Part of her pain was her miscarriages, which left her unable to have children of her own. The Wilsons also couldn't adopt, either, because of Bill's drinking. Yes, members acknowledge that Bill wasn't perfect, but Lois's losses were insurmountable and worth noting.

It's well-known that Bill W. did experiment with LSD, so he wasn't fully abstinent, but more hippie-sober. He also asked for whiskey on his deathbed. I'll just throw him a bone there; he was dying from emphysema and probably wasn't thinking straight.

There's something magical about sitting down with a complete stranger and walking away from it wiser and more secure. That's what Nicole gave me.

Nicole struggled with heroin and crystal meth addiction, crawled out of the depths of Hell, and, over time, sought what she wanted and got it. Whatever it is, it's looking pretty damn good from over here.

This is a podcast dedicated to speaking out about the abuse that happens in 12-step programs, but I won't stop there. Different perspectives are what make people evolve, use their temporal lobes, and become curious. Nicole attended very few meetings and quickly realized they weren't for her. She detoxed and abstained from all substances for several years. Now, she drinks minimally and only occasionally, and it has no impact on her life. That's the spectrum of substance use disorder. Some have a horrible habit they need to remove themselves from; it doesn't always require lifetime abstinence. Nicole never struggled with alcoholism, but due to her drug dependency, she stepped away to preserve her health. Temporary is a flexible timeline.

There are the Brad Pitts of the world, who usually experience overwhelming shame from outsiders because the stigma of relapse and moderation is relentless. 12-Step programs created that shame and the superiority of abstinence. What Nicole and Brad do is none of our business, and they're both doing pretty fucking great.

Though Nicole was able to mostly dodge the 12-Step program nonsense, she had an unpleasant experience with people in authority; one such was a spiritual guru. Thankfully, she got away, but this experience has helped her have a good eye for which spiritual antidotes are useful.

If you're going through a dark time, or just a time of reflection, restarting, or curiosity, I encourage you to book a time with her. She's easy-going, relatable, and approachable. She rejects all those wellness-or-spiritual-guru traits and has the experience that really counts.

Also, please listen to this episode. Nicole is quite lovely.

Check out her IG, _thisholylife_

We've made it to Bill's Story in the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous. Written in 1938, Bill W. had about 3 or 4 years of sobriety when he wrote Bill's Story for the Big Book, which was published in 1939 and originally titled Alcoholics Anonymous: The Story of How More Than One Hundred Men Have Recovered from Alcoholism.

One of my closest friends, a "normie," joined the podcast to hold my hand as I read Bill's Story. Re-reading it as a woman who is about 4-5 years removed from the 12-Step Program has brought a conflation of laughter, disturbia, and reminiscence. Had I had more confidence and free will, I would have understood that Bill W. and I had very little in common aside from alcohol/substance use disorder. Instead, I accepted my sponsor's diagnosis of myself: that I was selfish, self-centered, spiritually sick, and essentially a narcissist like Bill W. was. He fancied himself a leader, expected applause "thrown" his way, and had no question of his worth or abilities. My existence before sobriety was the polar opposite: I hated myself and thought I would do others a favor by [content warning] taking my life. Bill W. initially found that the "ultimate sacrifice" was weak—he had pride. I accepted that I was "weak" long ago.

The Big Book discusses powerlessness, and that we members are powerless over alcohol. But as sickness and groupthink combine, you're powerless over just about everything, and we're expected to perceive ourselves this way.

Bitch, I'm powerful. I learned this after leaving AA.

Part II coming next.

You know what I love about this episode? Alexa is both approachable and relatable, even though I've never met anyone like her. She didn't lean into any negative spirals or bury AA, but redirected me to the fruits of sobriety and the many resources that can get all of us there.

I left the interview feeling a bit lighter, and after editing this episode I felt this unfamiliar sense: optimism. Alexa gave occasional sound bites about her AA experience, but she offered so much more… quitlit, Smart Recovery, motorcycles, clowns, research-based evidence. It was clear in speaking with her that she is so much more than alcohol dependency, which is now eight years behind her. And she knows that. She's got the research, the facts, and the science to back it.

Talking with Alexa was a sound reminder that we are not our mistakes, as cliché as it sounds, and the best thing you can do is try to get sober, because what's the worst that could happen?

Take Alexa’s guest appearance as a gift, because it truly is.

Access show notes on Patreon

I went into this conversation expecting Leanne to tear Alcoholics Anonymous apart. She's sharp, she's got a loud online presence, and I figured she'd bring the same energy to talking about the program. Nope—she surprised me. This is one of the most positive AA discussions I've had on the show.

Leanne got sober in British Columbia during the pandemic lockdown, working through substance abuse and eventually transitioning at the time. She credits her sponsor, Ira, almost entirely for how well things went. She deliberately chose him because she didn't like him on the theory that she wouldn't be tempted to lie to someone she was trying to impress. His mix of native spirituality, blunt honesty, and refusal to get pulled into group politics shaped how she thinks about recovery to this day.

But her story isn't without its complications. She talks openly about the strange loneliness of being thirteen-stepped, about clients from her sex work turning up sober and pretending they didn't know her, and about carrying other people's secrets in a small-town fellowship. She also talks about starting a rainbow group after being denied the opportunity to volunteer at a women's rehab, and how that fight ultimately opened the door for other members.

What struck me most is how different her relationship to AA's culture of deference was. She never felt scared to set a boundary or call something out, and people mostly just left her alone about it. That's not a luxury everyone gets in these rooms, but Leanne seemed to withstand it.

She's not sober by AA's strict definition, and she's honest about that. Her sound advice: whatever your recovery looks like, the only thing that actually works is telling the truth, to yourself first.

Also, you can check out Ottawa's police chief telling officers to stop finding women's numbers in the database HERE.

Remember to listen and follow!

Have a question or story you want to share? Email me at recoveryfromaapod@pm.me, and I might read it on the show!