"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?