Why I Walked Away from Narcotics Anonymous

I was raised in Alcoholics Anonymous. I remember vividly being in a pack and play, in the corner of the room with my best friend. Our dad's were both in the program together and they were best friends. I was raised on the 12-steps, my "family" was all of my dad's program friends and everyone was Uncle and Auntie to me. As I grew up and started experimenting with drugs and alcohol, I was welcomed into the program by everyone I knew growing up. I was praised for being "so young" and going through with the AA program.

As I entered college, I wanted to drink with my friends. Eventually, the "experimentation" came back and I found myself using Oxycontin a little more than recreationally. I met a guy and soon I began using heroin and cocaine daily. In a typical drug induced spiral, my life was chaotic and I felt as though I had no way out. My best friend had relocated to Philadelphia to start a new life and at the end of my using, I decided that Philadelphia was where I would find new friends and start my new life as well. I was born and raised in Boston and I was ready to go.

My first experience with Narcotics Anonymous was in Northeast Philadelphia, in a basement of a church building. I had about five minutes clean and desperately wanted to belong to a new group of people who were just trying to do the right thing—like me. I didn't make it inside of the meeting. I got out of my moms' care and gave my best friend a hug. The first question someone asked me as I approached the meeting was "Hey do you f*ck black guys?" This was someone with YEARS of clean time who obviously wanted to know all about me. The second guy who immediately approached me asked if I wanted to come to his IOP family picnic as his date. I was outside of a meeting, where the fellowshippers preach about reaching out to newcomers and the only people who reached out to me were horny men. Both of these men are back in active heroin addiction.

Twice a week I went back to the same meeting (and tried some others in the area as well). Never once was I approached by a female with time who wanted to help me out. Not once. Instead, my friends and I (who all lived in the same recovery house up the street from the meeting) were called "whores" and laughed at, especially by the older females in NA. We did have some fun going out to eat after meetings, but of course it was mostly with men in the program. I still tried to give it a go and really wanted to make friends with the girls who were older than me and had some clean time under their belt.

I got a sponsor and started doing step-work. I had found out later that the sponsor I had repeated some of the things I had told her in confidence to "community members" she felt NEEDED to know. Things that were personal to me and that I had difficulty speaking about at all, but I wanted to follow the program and share how I felt and things that had happened to me. During this time, I met my husband. My husband is the kindest soul I've ever met and the epitome of a person in recovery. My husband had no problems making friends and has had a great experience in the NA program, fellowship and culture. I had relapsed during Christmas (right around the time my husband and I began talking) and I was later told that his friends told him not to date me or talk to me, that I "couldn't" stay clean. He obviously did not listen to their advice, and we've been together for seven years and married for five and a half. My husband is the only positive thing to come out of NA for me.

Fast forward a year into the program. My only friends were the guys my husband introduced me to and a few girls from the recovery house I had left around. My best friend moved back to Boston and I felt like I was essentially alone with my husband. I discovered I was pregnant and was thrilled. Unfortunately, my husband and I had a devastating loss and found out that the baby died on Christmas. On what was my year clean anniversary, I had to have surgery to remove the baby. I had only one phone call from my new sponsor to make sure I was okay. No one checked in on myself or my husband, no one called, no one texted. No one cared. My sponsor talked me into speaking from the table. Looking back, she just wanted me to have the same experience others have when their year roles around. I did it. After the meeting, I had a gentlemen (not sure why there was a man in the meeting as it was a woman's specific meeting) come up to me and ask me, "Did you actually go through with having an abortion?" After that night, the sour taste for 12-step programs never left.

When my husband and I decided to get married, he had two close friends who we invited. My husband worked with the wife (who eventually ended up stealing his Christmas bonuses he received from customers—what a wonderful 12-stepper!) and considered them both to be his best friends. When we told the husband that we intended on having a quick ceremony at city hall followed by a backyard barbecue, he flipped out. He demanded that we have a "traditional" wedding or "we'd regret it." Over and over, he forced "tradition" down our throats and by the end of the conversation, he refused to be a part of our wedding. This person told us that we would regret not having a "normal" wedding and insisted that he knew what was best (he would joke constantly about the fact that he and his wife were an "NA power couple." Pssh, yeah—a power couple that completely abandoned their own children and eventually ended up divorced due to infidelity and lust.) He also would not let his wife attend. My husband was devastated. By the way, he was cheating on his wife their entire marriage and they ended up divorced. This is someone who preached about how great he was from the table and likely the biggest ego I've ever encountered. His wife is no different. After my wedding, rumors started circulating that I had relapsed at my wedding. Come to find out, this guy (who we'll call Menace, lol) told everyone that I got drunk at my wedding with my friends who were social drinkers. We didn't even serve alcohol at my wedding. I haven't seen Menace in years but I can only assume he's the same egotistical, misogynist pig who I knew from before.

Throughout my time free from drugs, I've lost so many people. The baby, my cousin, my father, my brother, my father-in-law and another pregnancy. I never got to have the "experience" others did when they first come to the rooms. Throughout me time in NA, I was always reaching out and trying to help the next person. The "friendships" I made in the program seemed incredibly one sided. They would (and still do) call me for help, the same issue they've been dealing with for years-and I'd try to talk them off the ledge. I've noticed with these people that rarely am I asked, "By the way—how are YOU doing?" The group of people I've come to know in the program are quite honestly the most selfish bunch I've ever known in my life. My father was a 12-stepper for most of his adult life. My dad left the program when I was 23 to drink. While he was not able to do it successfully, I have seen many that can. My father passed away in 2015 and despite all the friendships he made in the program, only three people from AA showed up to his services to say goodbye. That was absolutely heart wrenching to me. My dad spent countless days and nights helping these people, but because he decided to leave the program later in life, they turned their backs. These are people I once considered family. This absolutely crushed me.

I've found that the fellowship of the program is very high school. You have the girls who desperately want to be popular (likely because they had not a lot going for them while they were in high school), the horny men who come to meetings to try to catch them a newcomer, the egotistical "older" community members who have been around FOREVER and think that they are God's gift to this green earth, and the ones who are just trying to make it through. I never felt as though I fit into any group within the fellowship. When someone decides to leave the program, instead of sending prayers and reaching out (what they are taught to do), the fellowship I've known talks about that person outside of a meeting and ostracizes them to the point where even if they wanted to come back to the program, their reputation has been tarnished within the community and the likelihood they'll come back is slim to none. I have a friend who was called the most hurtful of names outside of a meeting (names poking fun at her genitalia by community members with MULTIPLE YEARS CLEAN). After that night, she rarely came back for meetings. Unfortunately, she passed away in 2017 and I honestly believe that the fellowship of NA made it impossible for her to come back in to ask for help and guidance. I bring this up whenever I'm asked why I'm so against the fellowship of NA and AA. If a person passes away because of their addiction, you'll find social media's highlighted with pictures, "RIP—Fly high angel" and the breaking of anonymity immediately. The days of true anonymity are over at the hands of social media.

Last year was another tough year for me. My husband and I found out that we were pregnant again but the pregnancy was extremely complicated and ended up settling in my fallopian tubes. If anyone knows anything about this specific type of pregnancy, it's life threatening and can lead to death if left untreated. While I sat at home on leave from work, there was no checking in from NA members. As my husband remains in the program, I expected him to get calls and texts asking how he was handling everything. Nothing. One friend, whom I met through my husband in the program, did stop by and check-in to see how I was doing. For that, I am eternally grateful and he is a perfect example of how the program should work for people. The phone calls and texts I got to check-in were from my friends who opted to leave the program to live social, normal lives. This was my absolute final straw, I was out.

Although I left the program, I still try to help. My husband had a sponsee who had been with him for years. This person can't stay clean for the life of him. Time and time again, he relapses right around the 90 day mark. Great life, wonderful family—complete self-sabotager. This person showed up at my doorstep after being Narcanned in the drug infested area of Philadelphia. With nowhere to go and no one left to turn to, we let him in and told him he could stay until he found a sober living. I worked endlessly to secure him a bed at a sober house. I was told that he needed a clean urine in order to go into the house and my husband and I let him stay with us until he could pass a urine drug screen. My husband left $20 on the table and told his sponsee that the money was his if he decided to go use, but begged him not to steal from us. About four days in, I came home to find the money gone along with our jar of change that we had been saving for a rainy day. A neighbor alerted us that she scared off two kids who were trying to come in through our window. After watching the security tapes, we found that the sponsee who stayed with us brought his girlfriend's homeless brother to our home to rob it. Luckily, they didn't get in. This officially ended the days of my husband attempting to help people when they were at their lowest. Now, if someone needs help, he directs them to other 12-step members. He doesn't pick people up for meetings, he doesn't allow people without clean time to come in our home, and he certainly does not invite sponsees to our house anymore. As mentioned before, my husband is the kindest and most generous soul on the planet. For someone to do something like that to him after years of him trying to help, absolutely broke his heart. I hope the kid gets clean and finds a new way to live, but if I never saw him again it would be too soon!

It's been a little over a year since I officially left the program. I felt as though a weight was lifted. I still do my best to help people, but my expectations of the return are slim to none. I've cut ties with people whom I've felt are toxic to me. I stopped caring what 12-step members thought about myself and my actions. My closest friends are those who also left the program and they are the best friends I could ever ask for. My husband remains a member of NA and enjoys it. I know that the program works. The program saved my husband's life and has so much value. For me, the fellowship is what doesn't work. This is not a story begging people not to go to 12-steps when they are in need of help. In fact, I recommend it. This is a story outlining my personal experience with 12-step programs and how walking away was more beneficial to me than staying. I consider myself "normal" these days. I enjoy going out and having the occasional cocktail with friends. I know when to say I've had enough and in my belief, I am one of the few successful people who are able to do this. When I decided to drink alcohol, I felt guilty and couldn't understand why. Who was I trying to impress? Sure, I had a drug problem in my early 20s but that was seven years ago and I hadn't touched anything since. I don't consider myself a person who has relapsed (although I'm sure others in the program would disagree.) I consider myself someone who overcame some really dark times and ended up being a productive, normal member of society. My first sponsor (who left the program to drink responsibly) told me, "NA taught me how to live the life I want to live, and this is how I want to live it." Those words never left my mind. The program works, it does. The 12-steps are life changing and life saving. However, from what I've seen, people tend to preach way more than they practice and often forget to implement humility, kindness, and very quickly forget where they came from. Now, I'm no angel. Never claimed to be, but I finally reached a point where I don't need other people to feel value in myself, and it took me a very long time to get to this place.

I am so grateful for the few friends that I did make in Philadelphia through the program. Most of them have left to live normal lives, much like I did. I am so grateful for the friends that my husband has made because without them, I wouldn't be able to reap the benefits of having the husband that I do. To end this, I hope that others have much different experiences with 12-step programs than I did. I pray that others make friends and have people to rely on when times are tough. I pray they get and stay clean. Unfortunately, I'll never be one of those lucky ones who came into a 12-step program and found my place. That wasn't my experience and I'm finally okay with it.