How To Be an Adult Child

Celebrating six years in Al-Anon/ACA. IDLES. Bleggh.

The Small Bow is funded entirely out of the pockets of paying subscribers. We don’t take advertisements or sponsorships, we use your money to help pay for all our freelancers and Edith’s illustrations. If our newsletter has made you smile or laugh or cry or feel less wicked and alone, please consider financially supporting us. Subscribers get access to the entire archive, the Sunday roundup of book and recovery recommendations, and the complete rundown of my weekly recovery program. You’re also gifted the sense of accomplishment and satisfaction of helping put something good into the world. Seriously—thank you for being here.

Every year on my AA anniversary, I post my chip or some sort of commemoration to my Instagram accounts, but I don’t do anything like that for my Al-Anon/Adult Children of Alcoholics programs, even though it’s been the most transformative program for me. Today’s my SIXTH year in those programs.

In LA, they actually do have a little cake-taking ceremony at some of the meetings. In my first year, I went to one because my sponsor had told me it was important to be recognized by the group. Even though most 12-step programs can emit a culty vibe occasionally, this particular Wednesday night meeting had major LA cult vibes. As I sat there waiting for the meeting to begin, I realized how easy it would be for me to be sucked in by a cult. I mean, I have such a weak ego, and I absolutely can't trust myself. I also don't know how to ask for what I need. Plus, I think narcissists are more charismatic than they are dangerous.  So, it would have made perfect sense if it had turned out to be an initiation ceremony. 

Five other people were taking a cake that night, but I was the first to be called up front. It was a thick sponge cake with vanilla icing splatters and what looked like flavor crystals mixed in—kind of like a cake you'd give to a one-year-old to smush and smash all over themselves. 

My sponsor stood beside me and held the cake. A cheap candle flickered at the top. I rocked back and forth, pulling on my sweatshirt like a nervous idiot as a roomful of mostly smiling strangers sang "Happy Birthday" for what felt like 45 minutes. I blew out the candle and then had to make a mini-speech for everyone about the program and how it helped me. I said, "I came into the program with a lot of stuff..."

And then I paused. An ominous, high-pitched noise entered my brain where the rest of the thoughts were supposed to be formulating. 

"... and now I have less?" 

The audience laughed, with knowing nods and even a couple of those crucial "Mmmhhs” that bubble up at some meetings when the speaker says something poignant. I mumbled something else to wrap up, but I quickly returned to my seat from the front of the room and took some hugs and handshakes from strangers because that’s how I live my life now.

*****

Of all the 12-step programs I write about here, I tend to get emails about Al-Anon the most. Because, unlike the other classic grimier ANONs, this one is a little mysterious. Its premise is that it's a group for anyone whose life has been impacted by alcoholism–spouse, parent, child, or grandparent. At first, the language and the format feel like any other AA meeting, but if you stick around long enough, you realize that the whole program is there to show you there is no need to fix the person you love to heal yourself. That's the most efficient way I can describe it.  But mostly, I think it's a program for anyone drowning in shame. (I've also heard it cynically described as a program for people "who can't afford to go to real therapy," which I never found to be true.)