I was 27 when I found my way into AA. I was two years out of graduate school and dealing with a mess of self-doubts, financial problems, a string of dysfunctional relationships and plain old emotional immaturity. What I needed was a crash course in Adulthood 101.

My brother (several months sober at the time) had twelve-stepped me into Al-Anon a few years earlier. Our dad was an alcoholic and had died a couple of years before. I dabbled in Al-Anon but couldn't relate to the stories of life with a drunk because I wasn't living with one. ACOA meetings were a little easier to identify with, but I didn't find what I was looking for there (not that I *knew* what I was looking for).

Fast-forward to early 1986. My emotionally abusive asshole boyfriend had just dumped me and I was desperate to "fix" the defects in my own character that had led to this horrible turn of events. My exposure to the ACOA movement and the steps brought me to the conclusion that I was thinking like an addict and that my drug of choice was tears -- you hurt me, I cry, you stop hurting me -- and that this was caused by my alcoholic family background.

So I contacted the local alcoholism council for a referral to an ACOA counselor. One of the first things she asked me was how much did *I* drink. I told her the truth: two or three glasses of wine a night to help me go to sleep. After a little more chit-chatting, she recommended I do 90-and-90 in AA. "I'm concerned because you're using alcohol like a medicine; that's a bad sign" were her words.

Desperate to *do* something about my pain, as opposed to just talking about it (which never worked in the past), I took her up on it. I went to the meetings, but it was a couple of weeks before I was able to say "I'm an alcoholic," and you know what? I had to scrape the bottom of the barrel to find a way I fit that definition. I desperately wanted to, you see, because I wanted to belong; I was lonely.

What I had was a drinking habit, but none of the symptoms of alcoholism. I certainly wasn't physically addicted, had never been fired from a job for drinking, gotten a DWI, or had a blackout. But AA has a name for people like me: "high bottom." The party line I learned to spout was: I haven't had the DTs or been arrested or been fired or blacked out ... YET! But if I was drinking more than one drink every day for the "wrong" reason, I was obviously on the slippery slope.

Looking back, this attitude makes me nervous, especially when directed at young people. I heard so many variations from people like me and their well-meaning sponsors to justify their membership. Such as: "I didn't think I could be an alcoholic because I only drank on weekends/once a month/three or four times a year." (You probably weren't one, just a party animal who would eventually outgrow it). And the self-tests: Have you had regrets about your drinking in the past year? Yeah, I had a couple too many last New Year's Eve and felt like shit the next day. Then you're an alcoholic waiting to happen, even if you haven't had more than three beers a week since then!

What I wanted out of AA, I didn't get. Working the steps -- and I did work them -- didn't solve the emotional turmoil that brought me there. Looking back, I should have told that therapist to go fuck herself and found one that doesn't assume all emotional problems in people who drink are due to drinking. Mine dated back to age 3 or so! But that's not how the "recovery" movement works.

I don't want to bash AA. I know people whom it's helped tremendously, and they're rational, happy people who have kept their non-AA friends and interests. But I want to warn the young people who are like I was: Don't let anyone force a label on you that you'll have to wear for the rest of your life just because your behavior doesn't match their "sober" ideal. Learn constructive ways of dealing with your problems, and you will resort to overindulgence in alcohol less and less. You have a mind; use it!

Thanks for listening. Just sign me ...