"Lord, beer me strength."

I've been sitting on this post for a while because I'm not sure how to address certain things without getting a lot of flak for them, but fuck it. 

I haven't been to an AA meeting in almost six months. Part of this is due to the geographic isolation of Brno and the lack of English speaking meetings. When I first arrived, I made a call to a number listed for expat meetings and discovered that because so few people attended, it eventually disbanded. Like many websites in the Czech Republic, the directory hadn't been updated in a few years. Larger cities such as Prague, Vienna, Warsaw, and Bratislava are more likely to have more than one English meeting since they have larger populations than Brno and many English speaking expats have chosen to settle in those places. So if I'd like to attend a meeting, the closest one is almost two hours away. 

I live in an alcohol dominated culture here in the Czech Republic. This wasn't my intention upon moving here because let's face it: if I'm going to relapse, this was a really expensive way to go about it. Czechs drink more beer than any place else in the world at roughly 43 gallons per person per year. If you lived here during the 13th century and stole hops, your punishment was death, and Pilsner style beers originated from the Czech city of Plzen. People often drink their beer out on the streets due to lax open container laws, and there's multiple pubs and restaurants specializing in the nation's obsession on every block . Drinking seems to be a way of life here. I'm not sure if it's solely based on alcoholism, but it's definitely conjoined with celebration. Christmas and Easter markets feature mulled spiced wine and different styles of Moravian lager. Even older pagan traditions incorporate more modern styles of liquid celebration, the next one being on the 30th of April where an effigy of a witch is constructed from straw and then burned to the ground to welcome the season of spring. Moravia, the historical country where Brno is located, is infiltrated every year by tourists looking for good wine and cheer, both of which are usually absent in their home countries.

To be honest, it hasn't bothered me that much. My obsession to drink is gone but I'm still very aware and alert of my surroundings. I can't let my guard down at anytime and I need to stay attentive if I'm going to maintain the current spree of not fucking up my life. I've turned down drink tickets at shows and no one seems to care if I ask for water, even though it is almost always served in a beer mug. After a show a while back, a few people outside were smoking a joint and they asked if I wanted to smoke. I politely declined and he said "I didn't know people could be sober from marijuana." Everyone's definition of "sober" is different, but I sluffed it off with "Well if I smoke then I'll definitely drink." They got a laugh out of it, I got a laugh out of it, and I continued on with my night. It would be silly to move to another country and think you're not going to encounter any kind of drinking or drug culture, but a short absent minded change of heart can quickly deter things from the path I've chosen for my life to take.

During my sobriety (I no longer use the term "recovery" because it makes me feel my decision to abstain from alcohol makes me weak, helpless, and powerless), there have definitely been a few evenings or circumstances which have led me to grit my teeth and feel like I am really in need of a meeting. When these moments arose, I was quick to talk with a sober friend or just message someone who supports my sobriety. I know what my triggers are, everything from old friends to sunflower seeds, and sobriety allows me to continue being sober, as redundant as that sounds. The reason I haven't been to a meeting in six months, or gone four hours out of my way to attend one, is because I have learned to cope with life's unfortunate circumstances as they come up, something the AA program draws you away from.

I first started going to meetings when I was in rehab because at the time, I didn't have a choice. All of the addicts and alcoholics would sit in a cafeteria and a former resident of our program would come in to discuss the "only three ways" of staying sober: going to meetings, getting a sponsor, and working the program. I was scared out of my wits. I certainly couldn't go back to the life I had barely maintained of drinking every day and destroying everything in my path, and if these people were speaking the truth, I needed to hike on those paths, too. My life depended on it, as I thought. 

My nickname in college.

I was in rehab for 21 days. Upon being released into the wild, I started attending one or two meetings a week depending on my schedule. At all of these meetings, this three-pronged approach of attending meetings, getting a sponsor, and working the steps was echoed throughout all of the rooms. But one narrative particularly stood out. Time and again, I encountered people (and I'm going to paraphrase because I still respect the anonymity of the program) who would say something along the lines of "You know I've tried to get sober eight or nine times now and this program really works. You gotta keep coming back and work the steps and get a sponsor and find your higher power." The problem with this statement is that the same person would say this every time between those eight or nine attempts of getting sober. Newly sober folks are thrust into the realm of Alcoholics Anonymous without even being asked what sort of path they would be interested in taking to sobriety. It's assumed that AA works as it's popular and many people who don't have the resources to go to rehab or treatment can attend for free. 

I've read the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous twice, once when I was "forced" to get sober at age 16 after I was caught for under age drinking and again when I entered treatment at 27. I underlined passages that made sense to me, or sentences that resonated with the person in me who really wanted to be sober. Little quips and phrases are common in the book and "The Program," as in there's always a proverb to accompany every problem someone brings to the table. Tough time staying sober for the long haul?

Take it one day at a time. But things are so complicated and I'm worried about drinking!

Easy does it. There are even entire chapters dedicated to atheists and women as they weren't equally represented in AA and were completely inferior to the white men who wrote the book prior to the last World War. I came into AA skeptical. As an atheist (that's probably the most pretentious way I've ever started a sentence), I don't believe in a god, gods, or anything that can assume a consciousness and change the direction of my life so that it becomes significant to me. My viewpoints aren't particularly militant and I don't go out of my way to address them unless I'm asked. The idea of finding a "Higher Power" didn't sit with me well. If I don't believe in religion or have a faith of any kind, how am I supposed to apply energy to something that is supposedly going to help me stay sober? 

One of AA's popular credos is "Well, your Higher Power can be anything. It can be a doorknob!" Which...doesn't sell that point particularly well. Later I'll be instructed to turn my will and care over to this doorknob "as I understand it" and expect it to alleviate me of the perils of alcoholism, a scientific problem in need of a scientific solution. I don't understand god because it doesn't exist for me. For a while I even tried making Jeff Lebowski my literal High(er) Power to no avail, just to see if I can really buy into what Bill W was attempting to do for people like me. Clearly AA didn't take other subsets of society into account when creating the literature pushed on people from the very beginning. I was getting uncomfortable following the program. Another popular AA motto is "fake it til you make it," and if you know me at all, I don't fake shit. In a way, I was expected to not only "check my beliefs at the door" and to follow a path to sobriety which I was told was the only path from the beginning. I couldn't see any correlation between 11 of the 12 Steps of AA and me staying sober. What did me divulging my entire sexual history, my fears, my wrongs, and my resentments to another person have to do with me drinking? What did me giving up my power and assuming powerlessness to a program keep me sober? What was the scientific evidence behind any of this?

Overtime, I started going to meetings less and less. I came to realize I didn't have to be dependent on AA to stay sober. As long as I was keeping myself busy, not isolating, and not putting myself in risky situations, I had this sobriety thing on lock. AA masks its acceptance of all people due to the Third Tradition (there are 12 Traditions, as well): the only requirement for membership is a desire to stop drinking. So in short, if you want to stop drinking, AA has a seat for you. However, if you have any disbelief in a Higher Power or have no interest in getting a sponsor, the judgement in that room will be paramount to any shame you've ever experienced. I was told I would drink if I didn't have a sponsor, and I haven't had a sponsor for two years. People knew I was skeptical of many different aspects of the program except for one, being AA is where I can meet other people like me. Unfortunately there aren't many other arenas I can navigate that can accommodate the same groups of people. Cruising the subreddit r/stopdrinking helped, and staying in touch with the sober people who did accept my different points of view also helped. 

So the less and less I came to meetings, the more and more people stopped talking to me. I had met numerous friends through the program over the 18ish months I was attending. I met people my own age, people who grew up in houses just down the street from me, and people who were adamant that following the Big Book was the only way to achieve sobriety. It seemed hard for people to understand that there was more than one path to achieve the same thing. AA isn't a one-size-fits-all program, and while it got me off on the right foot, it abandoned me in the long run. Even though there was a chair figuratively saved for me at every meeting, it was clear I wasn't welcome if I didn't strongly believe in the fundamental tenets. Watching people come back to meetings after they relapse was one of the most cringeworthy experiences I've ever had. Someone in the program would have a few months of sobriety and then come back to a meeting a while later and announce they only had a few days, or a week. The judgement in the room would become suffocating, face after face of growing, unanimous disappointment in someone who had they "came to meetings, got a sponsor, and worked the program" would have remained sober. In AA, there's a response to everything. "Well he worked the program but he didn't really try."

Only going to one meeting a week won't guarantee sobriety!" "The book says 'half measures availed us nothing' so of course they aren't sober -- they didn't follow the steps correctly!"

I knew I was socially cut out from the program and the people I met when I had my going away show in September. I had two previous sold out shows when I was producing One Laugh at a Time, a show featuring sober comics in whatever capacity as long as they were committed to sobriety. The sober community saw it as a chance for fellowship and enjoying comedy at the same time, and it was great to have people like me on the same line up. For my going away show, I had my favorite Seattle people perform with me on "Liz Czechs Out," the show that inspired the naming of this blog. I advertised for about a month and I was able to have it at the club I spent most of my time at. The crowd was reserved but fun and the other comics gave me a card before the night was over. After the show I thanked friends, family, old boyfriends, and former colleagues who came to celebrate my coming adventure. The audience filed out of the club and I finally had a moment to catch my breath, and that's when I realized that not one person I had met in AA during my two years in Seattle came to my show. 

The program that was supposed to free me of resentments was only creating them. Sometimes I meet sober people and they assume I'm in AA just based on the fact I'm sober. I don't trash the program or speak negatively of it to their face, but I politely imply I was able to find help for my sobriety elsewhere. One guy in Brno messaged me a while back after finding out I was sober. We exchanged some pleasantries but in the end, his tenacious attitude about AA was extremely off putting. He messaged me a while back asking "Still sober?" under the guise of care.

Yep, I'm still sober. I live an environment not conducive at all to sobriety yet I've fallen asleep every night without the use of alcohol. I show up on time 20 minutes early to everything, and I know when to separate myself from situations that might make me uncomfortable. I keep myself busy with writing, working, learning, and staying in contact with people who accept me for who I am, the beliefs I have, and the methods I choose to support sobriety. AA fronts itself as an all encompassing program, but after enough meetings and experience, I ultimately felt alone. I feel alone here in Brno sometimes, but this was me choosing to be alone. We all chose to be sober, so who cares about how we get there as long as it's the common end result? 

One Week

I didn't realize until last night that my planning has been going really smoothly and I haven't encountered many hiccups along the way: no crashing browsers in the middle of purchasing airline tickets, most emails are replied to within 24 hours, and with enough intensive Googling, I can find the answers to most of my questions. I'm feeling strong and confident. And after beating the shit out of United Healthcare and knowing I'll never have to deal with them ever again, I'm feeling pretty good.

Part of me was wondering if this move, the apex of the biggest decision I ever made, was some sort of travel mania I was experiencing as a result of European separation anxiety, which, let's admit, that's the whitest thing I've probably ever typed. Half of my family has this huge knack for going above and beyond to experience the ultimate wanderlust at whatever cost. I use the word "wanderlust" hesitantly because it's such a Pinterest loving, university experiencing, privileged Instagramming phenomenon.

You know, this kind of bullshit.

I was reassured the sense of mania which arose was more of a longing or yearning for change, a chance to do something for me. Mania would have meant I decided to go to Europe the next day and emptied my bank for a one way ticket and left my apartment and kitty behind. Instead, this exodus for a better life, cost of living, even pseudo-socialism, was planned in a methodical, systematic way to navigate away from the challenges and worries I've successfully avoided. 

Wanderlust isn't documenting it for everyone else except you. The last time I went to Europe, I wanted to be selfish with my experiences and I prevented anyone from accompanying me. I went on my eight-week trek alone and corresponded with those who needed updates regarding my whereabouts. I'd update Facebook when I was leaving one place and arriving in the next, which was effective since most people know if I haven't posted on social media in more than 24 hours, something's amiss and a Liam Neeson type character may need to be contacted. I documented my trip through extensive writing and pictures with the camera I last owned before succumbing to a phone with a camera feature. I knew I'd be back, I just didn't know when. Someone once told me the average American makes it to Europe once every seven years, even though definitions of "average American" are drastically different. All numbers aside, I see it as more of a pilgrimage and less of a visit expedition. 

With kitty on my back, I'll be flying into Frankfurt for a tight little connection before the hour long flight to Prague. After arriving in Prague, I have about a three hour journey by car to Brno. All in all the journey will be roughly 14 hours for me and 18 for kitty. The minimal anxiety I have right now is having to take Patrick out of his carrier twice in order to pass through security check points. I have a little rocket ship backpack he'll be traveling in out and open on my floor so he can approach it instead of me shoving him into an unknown airline approved abyss at the last minute. Last week I managed to take him out for a small walk in it. His unstable weight made me unstable as well and it took him a minute to adjust to not traveling in a crate at my side. I talked with him as he looked out of his capsule at the surrounding condominiums, trees, asphalt, and changing leaves. After we got back indoors and I unzipped him from his container, he didn't bolt away and hide and hiss like cats do. He calmly walked out of it and rubbed against the framing, a good sign.

The reports I've found online have given me conflicting reports. Some sites tell me that once we pass through security at Sea-Tac, he'll be able to stay in there all the way to Bohemia and he'll only have to endure a security screening one time. Other sites tell me that once I arrive at my transfer point in Frankfurt, I'll have to go through passport control and take him out of his carrier again, at which time I'll have an hour and fifteen minutes to complete. It will be tight, but I've also heard of these famous "express lanes" for passengers who have connecting flights under 90 minutes...but we'll see.

A sneak preview of me trying to run through Frankfurt International Airport. 

At the end of September, I moved out of the apartment I've been living in on Beach Drive. Oooooh Beach Drive, how fancy! Yeah, except I was living in a closet with barely any access to natural light and a ton of IKEA furniture, 90% of which I was able to resell during some mostly not sketchy situations via Facebook Marketplace. Most of the messages I received were just numbers a lot lower than what I placed the item at originally. 30. 45. 20. 

No "hi" or "hello, I was inquiring about the like new piece of flatpack furniture you've placed upon the internet for those to peruse during the late night hours before bedtime?" Or whatever. Having worked in furniture and consignment for a bit, I was pretty confident placing prices on items that were hardly showing any signs of wear but definitely weren't new. After selling everything I could, I racked up about $900. I also spoke with my apartment complex and I'll be getting only $100 less from my original deposit because this broad knows how to spackle.

I went to Minnesota for a few days to say some much needed goodbyes and for a few stints of stage time. I headlined the club I started at in 2011, which has now changed hands something like 5-6 times. Upon landing, I immediately went into autopilot for navigating through the city and suburbs but then remembered lingering road construction from the summer was a thing and ended up traveling on streets I never knew existed until this weekend. The rental car company rented me a Chrysler 300 because why the fuck not, and it was a nice lil pick me up after having sold my car the week before. I saw my old roommate's two-year-old who is very adamant with her "yes" and "no" answers even though she doesn't really take "no" for an answer. She showed me Peppa Pig and her dad's guitars and the garden and pond in their backyard. I ate Culver's for breakfast one morning. Between the Vikings not doing that well and the goofy accents, Minnesota hasn't changed that much.

She's right.

Tonight I'm going to my last AA meeting before I leave Seattle. What I'm about to write may receive some pushback, but you know I'm not one to bullshit (at least I hope you know) and I'm going to be honest about how I feel in regards to my sobriety:

I no longer consider myself as someone "in recovery." In my eyes, the term "recovery" implies that I am weak or in constant need of care, attention, or help. Today, in my 32 month journey of "sobriety" (which I don't use interchangeably with "recovery"), I see myself as someone who is sober, someone who abstains from mind altering chemicals. Keep in mind, the definitions of sobriety or recovery are different depending on who you talk to. In the AA realm of sobriety, some people don't even take prescription medication, even if it's under the care of a doctor with specific instructions. Others use a method of "marijuana maintenance," a term I've become less fond of in recent months because although it may be a substitute for alcohol, you're still technically abstinent from alcohol. 

I maybe average one meeting a month now. I haven't had a sponsor in over a year, and I don't work the 12 steps because I don't see the correlation of the claim to sobriety and not drinking. If alcoholism is a gene, or a chemical mutation or however you want to vaguely put it, then shouldn't it require a scientific solution? The Big Book (or Grandpa Big Book, as some people put it because grandfathers sometimes say things they don't mean or shouldn't or use antiquated terms for phenomena which have grown throughout the decades and manifested into something new or helpful) mentions that because alcoholism is a scientific disease, it needs a scientific solution. Yet, only the first step mentions alcohol. 

When I began to do my fourth step about two years ago, the step where you need to write down all of your resentments, your entire sexual history, your fears, and everything you've done wrong in hopes that some of these things could be cleansed by turning your will over to something not all of us believe in, I was instructed to go to five meetings a week. Some of these meetings had 12 people, others had more than 100. In each circumstance, the same story arose within different stories of sobriety. "I've gone through treatment 10 or 12 times and let me tell you, this program works." Clearly it doesn't. It isn't a one size fits all program, however the treatment network in America treats it as such. Occasionally I still meet someone who is surprised I haven't relapsed. 

You have 32 months? Well what did you have before that? 

In my experience, there's a general sense of shame that comes along with Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. Unless I'm going to do the steps with a sponsor and go to meetings, I'll surely relapse. And if I do, it's because I didn't do just that. 

But I haven't relapsed. I feel stronger than ever after I made the biggest decision I've ever made next to getting sober in the first place. I've encountered people who have said, "Oh, well you don't have a sponsor? Good luck out there!" in a tone matched by Bill and Bob in the Big Book. It's incredibly condescending towards atheists and women, and since the last serious revision of this book was done sometime during the Cold War, it doesn't make sense to me that there needs to be this ultimate solution to alcoholism. If I don't drink, I can't get drunk, and I know that if I relapse or "go back out" as it's put in program terminology, I'll die. I know that. But isn't that enough? Why do I need to be guilt tripped into doing something I don't believe in? Something that will shame me and separate me from others when the whole point is to unite us under one common addiction? The only reason I still attend sporadic meetings is because they're the only place I can meet others like me, others who had their lives destroyed by their chemical dependency. These people all happen to be in the same place as the system sets it up that way, but in turn, only 4-6% are successful. This attitude of "ride or quite possibly die" in Alcoholics Anonymous has even been incorporated in meme culture. Here's a few I found in a quick Google Image search: 

Obviously these memes touch on a few different issues, but nowhere in my Google search did I ever see Leonardo DiCaprio or Keanu Reeves saying something like "Hey, whatever keeps you sober!" If anything, this attitude has isolated me from the program. I don't believe in god, whether it's your god, her god, whoever, and because of that, I can't force meaning onto something I don't believe in. Friends stopped calling me. I stopped getting invited to places. People who were really avid comedy fans stopped attending my shows, and I'd hate to think it was because I've found medical methods that work for me aside from Alcoholics Anonymous: seeing a therapist/psychiatrist, taking medication, visiting r/stopdrinking, reminding myself every day that I have a drinking problem and if I go back to my old ways, all of the progress I've made for myself will be erased. 

All that being said, I've located an Alano club in Brno so if I feel that I need to attend a meeting, I can. There's English speaking meetings twice a day, one at noon and one at 7pm at a place not too far from my apartment. We all have the same goal, so why does it matter so much how we get there? 

I leave one week from today. One week from right now, I'll be on a plane somewhere over Canada thinking about all of the regrets I have in regards to my journey. I have two boxes to ship, three open mics, and one more show to do. One more trip to Olympia, one trip to Everett, and a trip to the mall to walk Patrick around in his backpack so he gets used to busy, florescent environments. 

It's actually here. I'm a week away.