There is a tradition in AA of anonymity. It is, in fact, right there in the name. Early on in my recovery I thought that was so I could have my little issue all on my own and nobody else would ever need to know. I mean, other than those people ‘in the rooms’…and my loved ones…and my friends…and, and, and….
The old joke, right? How can it be Alcoholics Anonymous if the first thing you do is say your name and what your drug of choice is? This group of like-minded individuals with which you have a deep connection- they have, after all, heard all of your deepest darkest secrets (if you do it right) and you can’t acknowledge that relationship outside the rooms? A finger to the nose in recognition like “The Sting”?
Of course, that’s ridiculous. The definition of anonymity is more amorphous than that. It is that for some people. Those that feel the need to hide their affliction from the world for shame or reputation. But that’s not me, though.
We all- everybody– have a unique outlook on the universe. No one sees the world they way that I see it. In fact, no one ever has or ever will. Sure, there are distinct commonalities and I can relate to others’ views, but there is always an element of perception that is mine and mine alone.
How is that anonymous? If it stands out?
The world doesn’t care what I think/feel/perceive. Individuals may, to some extent, but that minuscule drop in the ocean has little or no effect on the tides. Sure it makes up the water but it is no more important than the other drops of water. It doesn’t stand out and, hence, is anonymous. This is the trickiest bit. That I am simply part of a larger whole.
This is freeing. I can make mistakes. I can live my life without the constant feeling of judgment because…and this is important…NOBODY CARES! I don’t need to take myself so seriously.
That makes the line, “My name is Rob and I’m an alcoholic” truly anonymous. I’m part of a larger, more important, thing.
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