Negotiating terms: Alcoholic

I no longer drink alcohol. After a long period of altogether excessive drinking (which really wasn't as Gatsby as you might imagine) I decided not to do it any more. It's great, the not drinking, but according to conventional wisdom it should also come with a side-order of name-calling.

Hi, my name's Fay, and I'm not an alcoholic.

Disclaimer: not all people are the same person. Different things work for different people, and at different times. This is my blog, so I'm talking about me, in the here and now.

 

Follow the rules

Previously, I've covered how 'Recovery' is a powerful, useful term. My feelings towards it were instantly positive, and easy to conjure into words, so it was one of the first articles I wrote on the subject of living alcohol-free. At the same timing I had (and still have) a strong negative reaction to the term 'Alcoholic', but it's taken some time to constructively piece together why, when I do feel comfortable using it, and where I draw the line.

Conventional wisdom

Let's talk a little about Alcoholics Anonymous, or 'AA' as they're most commonly known. The tenets of AA are fairly awash through pop culture: the 12 steps, the idea of meetings in community centres, having sponsors and the like. AA are an incredible organisation in a lot of ways, and I fully respect the support they provide to people in need.

But AA isn't for me.

I don't say this because I've tried it and it didn't work for me (I haven't) but because I choose to politely decline using the support structure and methodology of AA.

On a purely academic level, I understand the principles and methods of the AA doctrine. I simply cannot ascribe to, or agree with it personally. The why and wherefore of AA not being compatible with me are manifold (which is a whole 'nother post, for a whole 'nother time) but first and foremost it's because I disagree with AA's fundamental definition of the word 'alcoholic'.

Simply put, AA say: if you're a person who engages in problematic drinking, you're an alcoholic. Sure. If you then stop drinking, you're still an alcoholic. When you haven't had a drink for ten years, you're an alcoholic. When you die sober (hopefully many, many years later) you died an alcoholic. Once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic.

That's why you're supposed to introduce yourself at the meetings with 'My name is [insert name here] and I'm an alcoholic.'

It's something you're supposed to accept about yourself as a forever trait. Because even if you don't exhibit the behaviours of alcoholism any more, according to AA you're still seen as in a state of alcoholism.

That kind of deterministic thinking doesn't work for me.

With our words we make the world

A negative label that stays with you and never changes, (even if you change, and you change your behaviour,) is one of those basic principles I cannot reconcile with my personal paradigm, or take into my sense of self.

It's like deciding the only band you're allowed to say you like – at 36 – is the one you were a fan of when you were a teen. Nobody wants that. Some things are meant to stay dead.

What's in a name?

An awful lot actually: labels can be stigmatising, which is why teachers are taught to label undesirable behaviour as the bad thing, not the child exhibiting it. Behaviour can be changed, but if you are bad, then there's no hope for redemption. And if there's no hope for redemption, why wouldn't you be bad?

If they are to be of use, labels should be constructive, and reflective of the current situation. If that's as part of a process, it's logical that different phases in a process should have different names. Like a caterpillar and a butterfly, or a bud and a flower, progress should be denoted with a new name.

If there's no hope of ever changing a label meant to define your intrinsic status, what use is such a label in the first place, except to stigmatise?

You get out what you put in

What good would it do me to label myself as an alcoholic? To define myself by actions I no longer take? To concentrate on a past problem, and view myself through the lens of being eternally broken? It would only serve to bring my attention back to something irrelevant to my daily life now, to make me wallow in shame, or to flagellate myself for past failures. I do plenty of that already, thanks.

And that's fine for a while – it's important to recognise the true gravity of what once was – but there comes a point when it's necessary to move forwards and reforge a dark shard of the past into something good, and bright, and wonderful.

In my case? To write about my unique experience in the hopes that it helps other people find their way. Writing to be of service. Writing to create something I would've liked to have found when I needed it, and to highlight the possibilities for a life of aspiration and inspiration. That's my preferred path.

Are you an alcoholic?

Me, personally? No. I was, though.

I may refuse to assimilate the idea that I am and always will be an alcoholic, but I do find some utility in the term. Heck, it's a label I applied to myself during the worst times when I was drinking. It was something I didn't want to be, like so many other negative signifiers we let our inner voice use.

Because it can be helpful to label an unwanted behaviour, as long as you keep its transience in mind. It helps to distance it from who you are.

Nowadays, I utilise this term as a retroactive signature of my progress: to define something I was once, am not now, and never will be again. (Plus, the jargon comes in handy as a shorthand for others to understand, if nothing else.)

But, am I an alcoholic?

I couldn't tell you, sweetheart. Maybe, maybe not – that's for you to decide. Though I'd caution that if you've ever genuinely asked yourself that very question, in your heart you already know the answer. Were I the praying type, I'd pray for you to find the strength to take the next step and not let stigmatising labels hold you back. For now hope will have to suffice.

I can't say when, or if, you'll take that step, but one thing I do know is this: when it comes to changing your life, if the conventional wisdom doesn't work for you, there's always the option of doing something else instead.

I did. I am.

You are going to be fine.