The Practice of Sponsorship

Over the years, I have learned certain ways to begin (and to end) my meetings with sponsees:  To begin, I start with:  Please share with me what you've done to stay sober since we last met?  I want a high level but somewhat detailed summary of the basics of whatever they've done since we last met with the intent to stay sober: e.g., number of meetings, instances of trying to help others, step work, prayer/meditation practices, gratitude list writing, physical exercise... whatever they've done with the intent to stay sober and improve the quality of their lives. 

When they've finished with that (it shouldn't take but a few minutes), I then ask them what I can do to help. If they are going through the step process, I check in with where they are with the step they are working on...

Usually, once the struggle of the week/month comes up, the issue of "wantingness vs willingness" inevitably comes up. Everyone (including me) struggles with something and who better to share that with than a sponsor.  

I don't like wallowing in the weeds of these struggles, but some of that's necessary in order to get to the deeper roots of these struggles. Most of us like to spend (waste) energy on what's wrong with others or what others should be doing and for me, that often turns out to be a total waste of time. I like to say those people are doing what they need to do -- the only question for them to ask themselves is: "now what do I need to do (or not do)?".

I find that most people already know what they need to do or not do, but they simply don't want to do (or not do) it!  So I usually just ask them, based on everything you learned so far in your recovery, what do you think/feel you should do or not do?  Once they tell me (and it makes sense), I ask them, "Well, what's keeping you from doing or not doing that?"

Inevitably, it comes down to them admitting that they simply don't want to do or not do what their gut tells them they should. I call this the notwantingness problem: where we end the analysis of what should I do once we get to the seeming roadblock of notwantingness. 

I usually confront the "I don't want to" statements with a gleeful Tony the Tiger: "Grrreaaattt!".  If they are a new sponsee, they look puzzled at my seeming inappropriate joy at their conundrum in life. I explain that the reason for my joy is that they have arrived at the Challenge of Notwantingness and that only when we get here can we practice the long tested and valued A.A. principle of Willingness.  

Turns out Notwantingness is the essential prerequisite of Willingness: most of us don't need willingness to eat a chocolate chip cookie (or a drink of booze or other drug of choice). No, willingness is only called for when we don't want to do something. So, it's a good sign whenever we're confronted with Notwantingness!  That's where the real productive and life changing work begins!  Willingness!

Then I remind them of something one of my sponsors is still fond of saying: The secret to long term sobriety (he has 40+ years), is learning to do things you DON'T WANT to do, with people you DON'T WANT to do them with!  

Of course, they are the ultimate Deciders since it's their life and their responsibility.  Not mine.  I do share with them that their fear of doing X is based on the Seeming Problem of Incompetence: they are afraid not because they are incapable of doing X, but rather, because they've never done X sober. That just means they are incompetent and the only remedy for incompetence is taking action, making mistakes, getting up, learning what not to do, trying again....

At the end of our hour, I always close by thanking them for distracting me from what I thought were my real problems but are now either forgotten or less problematic than I thought they were. And ultimately, my problems are examples of my own Notwantingness calling me into The Land of Willingness. 

Take care!

Mike L

The -ISM in Alcoholism Stands For "Incredibly Shortterm Memories"

A woman showed up at today's meeting and raised her hand as being in her first 30 days of recovery. Although no one asked her for an explanation, she quickly added that she'd had 20 years sober before this relapse. And that prior to this recent relapse, she'd been to only one meeting in the prior 16 years. And that the one meeting occurred the night before her last drink. 

Apparently, not only do we in AA not shoot our wounded -- we also don't interrupt them when they need to get something important off their chest. 

When she finished, we then welcomed her back with smiles and applause. And I think she became the unofficial focus of this group of misfit drunks in recovery. 

When she got to share again, she explained that during her first four years of recovery, she'd done all the things that were suggested: sponsor, Steps, service, fellowship -- even the "God" stuff. And it worked!  She loved it. 

The only problem was she also enjoyed certain other things in life that no one else in her group enjoyed doing, at least not as much as she did: hiking, nature walks, jogging,  etc.  So she and her non-alcoholic husband gradually found new friends who happened to be neither AAs nor alcoholics. These new friends liked outdoorsy types of activities and she and her husband fit in like a glove. 

And almost without thinking or decision-making, she shared that she then slowly drifted off from meetings and other AAs. From recovery. 

She stayed sober for 16 years. During those years, she walked through some really difficult experiences without picking up a drink. At first she was aware of the fact that she wasn't drinking after each difficult time. But then, gradually, she didn't even notice her own "not drinking".  

In the end, well before the relapse, all she noticed was the pain. And the hopelessness. 

And I think by the time it was too late, she decided to go to her first meeting in 16 years: the pain was too great. 

She sat in the back. Alone. Listening to everyone else's trivial issues and stories. 

But she just couldn't raise her hand and tell them how much pain she was in or how much she desperately needed their help. 

I suspect she was silent because she was ashamed of all these feelings: someone with 20 years of sober shouldn't feel such embarrassing feelings! She felt weak and needed to appear strong. 

Ultimately, she left the meeting without speaking a word of her truth. And the next day, she drank. 

The pain was simply too much. She told us that as she was taking that first drink, she knew that whatever was to follow was not going to be good. But she drank anyway. 

She didn't know one other thing to do.  

She'd forgotten who she was years previous to that first drink. 

She'd forgotten or had never learned the difference between sober and sobriety.  

Sober is a lifeless fact or formula: me less alcohol equals sober. 

Sobriety is life itself for the recovering alcoholic, one day at a time. With all the feelings, wanted and unwanted. 

When we're told early on to hang in there, that we'll eventually feel better -- few of us realize at first hearing that no one's suggesting that recovery work filters out all "bad" or "painful" feelings and leaves only the "good" or "pleasant" ones. For me, it took years of recovery to realize that the "feel better" encouragement meant that if I did the required inner work, I would eventually begin to feel the full and glorious range of human emotions and feelings "better!" -- both the so called good and the so-called bad. 

My 30 years of using alcohol as a technique to deal with or control feelings never really worked except in temporary and illusive ways. 

As I shared in this meeting, in my experience, when sober people forget who they are -- or, more accurately, when I forget who I am as an alcoholic and think of myself as simply "sober" or worse, as someone "who has stopped drinking" then what happens for me is I start thinking that maybe I'm not really an alcoholic. 

I've come to believe that the -ism in alcoholism stands for "incredibly shortterm memories."  For me, the memories of what drinking was like start to fade away after 24-48 hours. Sometimes quickly. Sometimes slowly. 

And once I go down this mental pathway of forgetting who I am as an alcoholic, the same thing happens.  Every. Single. Fucking. Time: I decide that I'm a non-alcoholic!  

And the first thing I always do once I decide that I'm a non-alcoholic, I start thinking and obsessing about drinking alcohol. 

Or, as I've found when analyzing the half dozen drinking dreams that I've had over the last 14 years:  I just end up finding myself alone. Looking down at my hand.  And in my seemingly disembodied hand is a half empty glass of alcohol. What then happens are two simultaneous events: (1) someone, an authority figure in my life (for the last 35 years, her name has been Nancy!) or my son, walks into the room and (2) I realize where the other half of that drink is.  "FUCK!"

Dream over. Cold sweats. Shame. 

Today, I'm so grateful for this woman telling her relapse story to us today. I identify with her because, like her, I know with my whole being that "I" cannot stop drinking. That I'm an alcoholic. And that while I can't stop drinking, what I can do is stay sober "one day at a time" and that "that" day is always called "Today!"