Last week, I wrote about Elizabeth Gilbert’s characterization of addiction and recovery in her new memoir, and the post kind of blew up (at least by my small-time Substack standards) and resulted in a bunch of new subscribers.
Welcome, new subscribers! A little about me and the newsletter: I’m a health and science journalist; I’ve been sober since 2008. Every week, I either answer questions from readers about substance use and addiction recovery or write mini essays about addiction and recovery-related things. I always appreciate more questions and general feedback about the newsletter, so please don’t hesitate to send me a note at askasoberlady@gmail.com.
I’m hoping to do more Q&As with people who want to share their experience with substance use and recovery, and/or how they were affected by a loved one’s addiction and recovery. I’m happy to use pseudonyms/keep everyone anonymous. Inquiries about that can also be sent to the email address above.
Hi Katie,
I really appreciated your recent post about Liz Gilbert’s book. I’m not someone who struggles with substance use myself, but I do have several relatives who have gotten sober—most recently, my brother-in-law.
I am supportive of these family members, but I am also a bit annoyed by their constant talk about recovery. Half the time, it’s like they’re speaking in code, and the other half of the time, they’re having conversations most of the group can’t relate to. We live near most of our extended family and tend to see them often, particularly around the holidays, so this dynamic will be inescapable in the coming months.
I want to be respectful and supportive of what they’re going through, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t frustrating. Is there a polite way to shift the conversation without sounding like a monster? Or am I just supposed to keep nodding along while they speak a language the rest of us don’t understand?
From,
Tired of Recovery Talk
Hi Tired,
Thank you for the question! You’re not a monster—at least no more than the rest of us. Lord knows I don’t want to be judged by my thoughts.
It makes sense that you’re bored and frustrated by conversations you don’t understand and therefore aren't totally interested in. While recovery might be a more life-or-death endeavor than, say, sports (though I know a few sports fans who would disagree), if you stuck me at a dinner table full of people talking about baseball or golf or whatever, I’d think very seriously about faking food poisoning just to get out of there.
Lots of people with loved ones in recovery feel this way. It’s especially common with people who get sober through twelve-step groups because there’s so much “insider” language.
For example, linguist Amanda Montell was inspired to write a book about “The language of fanaticism” after her best friend from college quit drinking and started going to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. In Cultish, Montell describes the first time she saw her friend after joining AA. She writes:
“That night, we were having trouble figuring out dinner plans, when the following sentence exited her mouth: ‘I’ve been HALTing all day, I caught a resentment at work, but trying not to future-trip. Ugh, let’s just focus on dinner: First things first, as they say!’
I must have looked at her as if she had three heads. ‘HALT’? ‘Future-trip’ ‘Caught a resentment’? What on earth was she saying? Three months in AA, and this person who was so close to me I could’ve accurately distinguished the meanings of her different exhalations was suddenly speaking a foreign language.”
Montell doesn’t suggest that AA is a cult, but its distinctive vocabulary is one of the reasons AA can seem a little cult-like, both to AA newcomers and to the people around them. I don’t know if your relatives are specifically referencing twelve-step stuff, but it doesn’t matter—adhering to a shared language is powerful in any context.
We use words to understand ourselves, our experiences, our relationship to others, and our place in the world. It’s how we relate to each other and often how we find and engage with our community, be it a knitting circle or a subreddit.
In recovery, this shared language can be vital. To wit, when I was four months sober, my sister graduated from law school. Attending her graduation meant going back to the city where my drinking had been the worst and where I’d irreparably blown up my life. My sister and her friends had a front row seat to the carnage because I was too busy losing my mind to make any friends of my own. Her friends would all be attending her graduation and the various related events. I really, really, really didn’t want to go.
Quite reasonably, my parents pointed out that my sister had been the person to deal with the aforementioned carnage once I took off for rehab—and had to do so while in her third year of law school. Not showing up to her graduation would be a pretty shitty way to repay her. So, I went.
While I was on the train from the airport to the city, I called my dad to let him know when I’d arrive. A bunch of drunk guys got on the train—they were harmless idiots as far as drunk guys on a train go—but I was acutely aware of them. One of the guys fell on his friend, and I remember telling my dad, who is also sober, about them and joking that the guy was looking for “an easier, softer way.”
The AA-ism wasn’t even that funny, but we both laughed. We traded silly twelve-step sayings that might apply to the Train Guys. I don’t remember much about the conversation (it was a long time ago!), but I vividly recall the relief this shared language brought. It was a reminder that, throughout the various champagne-infused graduation events scheduled for the weekend, there would be someone by my side who understood this language because they’d had to find it the same difficult way I did.
I’ve relied on my dad many times over the course of boozy family gatherings, not as a serious, two-person twelve-step meeting, but as someone with whom I can share a knowing look or a quick tongue-in-cheek comment. Simply knowing that another person understands the complicated mix of feelings that arise in these scenarios makes getting through them infinitely more tolerable.
It sounds like your brother-in-law is newly sober, so using this “code,” as you say, might be a lifeline for him right now. If the non-sober people are drinking at these events, recovery-centric conversations and jargon likely serve as a counterweight to the substance use that he can’t partake in.
Before I got sober, drinking was so much of my identity; when I had to remove the alcohol, I wasn’t sure there would be anything left. Other sober people were crucial because I didn’t have to explain anything or figure out who I was without the booze. I was just a person in recovery and, with them, that was enough. It took the pressure off. It made me feel normal. Or at least not alone in my weirdness.
While your brother-in-law is figuring out how to be a sober person, I’d give him a bit of leeway. All the sobriety talk is likely serving a deeper purpose than, say, sports banter would be. The holidays are often an extremely triggering time for people in recovery because there are so many parties and gatherings at which booze is served. If this is his first holiday season sober, it might be best to accept that recovery conversations are preferable to “Bob is passed out in the bathroom again” conversations.
That’s not to say that you have to suffer through endless pontifications about sobriety. Asking questions about Bob’s (or whomever’s) life outside recovery could be a tactful way of shifting the subject. Or, you could start side conversations and let the sober folks yap about recovery to their hearts’ content.
It’s also totally okay to ask him what things mean when you don’t know a term or phrase. I realize this may only inspire more recovery talk, not less, but at least you would understand the references and hopefully feel less alienated by them.
Once your brother-in-law has more sober time under his belt, the recovery talk might naturally decrease. If it doesn’t, you should certainly feel more empowered to change the subject or start an unrelated conversation with someone else. But I come from a family of talkers and know too well that successfully initiating a subject change is often easier said than done. It might be simpler to figure out how to minimize your frustration if—and likely when—the topic arises.
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I’m not a doctor or mental health professional, so my advice shouldn’t be construed as medical or therapeutic. You are free to take or leave it.
I felt like this. Thank you for expressing it and making me feel seen. "Before I got sober, drinking was so much of my identity; when I had to remove the alcohol, I wasn’t sure there would be anything left."
Great response! I think your perspective was really well trained and covered ask the bases! (Yes, gratuitous sports comment there!)
From my perspective, it comes down to reading the room. We all know people who need to say whatever's on their mind. We also wish that such wonderful thoughts would be in sync with the general atmosphere of the group.
Thanks for this, Katie!