Some people say that addiction is a disease of nostalgia: We glamorize the past and terrorize the present. We may not recognize it in ourselves, but when we hear people we think of as newcomers complaining that “it’s not like it used to be” about what seems to us to have been the recent past, we can start to find the humor in it.
Something special happens when we first get clean. Our desperation and the total commitment we make in the beginning combine to create a very precious and important time in our lives. It’s never the same as our first home group, our first real connection to a sponsor, or that initial group of friends we ran with in early recovery. But the fact that it’s not the same doesn’t mean it’s not as good. A member shared: “When I let myself approach my recovery like a newcomer, I don’t struggle so much with the differences between how it is and how I think I remember it was. I can be present today without getting lost in nostalgia or comparison.” Allowing our recovery to change as we change can be difficult, but it’s what makes staying in NA possible—and productive.
The things we do when our NA community is small are the basics. Just like in our personal recovery, if we get away from the basics, we may have a hard time getting back to them. Meetings get complacent, too. When we get lazy, the message gets watered down. When we see that happening in our groups, we have a responsibility—not to complain or chastise, but to get busy. Sometimes starting step studies or literature discussions can help bring the focus of meetings back to recovery. Some of the most important work we do is at our home group. Participation at our home group makes it feel like it’s really home. “I wish I could say my actions are selfless,” one member confessed, “but deep down I know that my goal is to keep my home group alive so that I can keep coming back.” We feel good about meetings where we feel loved and accepted, and where we can be useful. Little things like calling members when they don’t show up can really reinvigorate a home group. Not giving up on each other matters—whether or not we are just getting clean. We teach by example. When we share honestly and openly from the heart about recovery, we carry a more powerful message than we ever do when we’re preaching or lecturing.
NA is different from place to place, and at different stages of growth. There is no model of the recovering fellowship. In some places, families are very involved. In some places, we take members into our homes to detox. In some places, tough love is the norm, and we tell people to sit down and shut up; in other places, we encourage one another to talk it out. The principles are consistent, but how we practice them can vary widely. The key is that we practice them, that our unity comes first, and that we keep our focus on our primary purpose: to carry the message to the addict who still suffers. Politics and popularity distract us from our purpose. When NA members forget that our personal recovery depends on NA unity, both are in jeopardy. NA communities do sometimes wither and die. It’s a tragedy we can learn from. We have a tendency to believe that things which are free have no value, when in fact they may be precious beyond any measure. When we recognize that our fellowship is in trouble, we must take loving action. Our lives depend on it.
Being of Service
The desire to be of service changes our relationship to the world. It’s not just in NA that we are loving and giving. We connect to the love that surrounds us by practicing loving actions, and being open to receiving the same. Being willing to accept help is a form of giving. It can be uncomfortable to admit a need, or to ask for help. When we allow another person to step up and help us, we give them a chance to express their own love and generosity. When we reach out to help, we receive much more than we give. In some places, after the closing prayer at the meetings, NA members say, “Keep coming back!” In other places, they say, “Go help someone!” Both come from the understanding that when we give, and when we allow others to give, we find a connection to a power greater than ourselves.
Service is not a position in a committee; it is a posture in the heart. It’s a way of life we can practice in all our affairs. It can be as simple as holding a door open, or as complicated as helping a loved one in the last stages of life. Our relationship to service and the way we express it changes as our humility deepens. The desire to serve is a manifestation of freedom from self. Anonymity is a key principle in selfless service. When we learn to give selflessly, in service to those who suffer and to a power greater than ourselves, we find happiness, purpose, and dignity.
Whether we give back best in structured service, one-on-one, or somewhere in between, being of service is a matter of principle for us. Practicing and teaching principle-based service is both a way we carry the message and a way we receive the gifts that recovery has to offer us. Service connects us to the fellowship and helps keep us connected and involved even when we’re not at the top of our game. Having a commitment to open the door at a meeting once a week can be the difference between staying involved and slipping away. Early on, service is a way we start to feel useful and wanted. Later on, being of service gives us a reason to keep coming back even when we don’t feel like it.
The therapeutic value of one addict helping another is a two-way street. It doesn’t matter who is doing the giving or the taking. We are all equally entitled to ask and to provide, and wherever we are in the exchange, we benefit. We no longer have to weigh and balance who is getting more or less, whether we are doing enough or being taken for a ride. The truth is, we’re all looking for motivation, inspiration, a spark that will catch fire in us. A good meeting, a powerful Twelfth Step call, a convention or campout can leave us feeling filled up, knowing that just for a moment we were right where we needed to be. That feeling is addictive. Once we know we can feel that good, we want more. We are willing to slog through the hard times because we know, if we keep doing it, we’re going to feel that complete again. It’s not an illusion, like it was when we were using. It’s the very real understanding that, just for today, what we do matters to someone.
Service changes our relationship to our own lives. We learn to put love and gratitude into action, and when we mobilize our good feelings they have a way of spreading through all our affairs. We are confronted with our defects—and with each other’s—and we find a way to work through them. “The first time I chaired a committee, I discovered the true meaning of principles before personalities. Boy, did I grow!” a member chuckled. In service we meet others who are passionate about their recovery, and that excitement keeps us energized. For those of us who have always had difficulty fitting in, service can give us something to do—and a reason to stay to the end of the meeting, the workshop, or the dance. In the meantime, we make the connections that change our lives. We learn about recovery in the process of serving, but also in the margins of the service we do: In the talks while we’re setting up or cleaning up for an event, or on the long ride to a service commitment, we make connections with others who are serious about recovery. A member shared: “I’ve had to close my mouth when I wanted to open it and open my mouth when I wanted to close it. I’ve had to try doing new things and stop doing old things that are no longer working. I’ve had to learn to ask for help, to delegate responsibilities, take risks, and share. I’ve had to clean up some disgusting messes—both literal and figurative. Why do I serve? It reinforces all the work I do in the steps.”
Some of us jump into service with both feet. We involve ourselves in just about every facet of what is going on, only to be rebuffed by members who have different ideas about how things need to be done. Or we make so many commitments that we cannot possibly keep them all, and gradually get overwhelmed and resentful. We get discouraged and withdraw. We go from caring too much to not caring at all and back again. We find ourselves outside the fellowship we love, looking in. We get lost in self-pity—after all, didn’t we give it our best effort? Times like these try the spirits of even our most seasoned members. We may need to step aside from that type of service for a moment and focus on our primary purpose.
When we let go of that distraction, our recovery can begi
n a new chapter. In the meantime, we stay clean, and a lot of good can get done. The solution begins in the Tenth Step. We reflect on our motives in service. Are we trying to force our view of how NA does things on others, or do we truly want to be helpful? Can we step out of ourselves long enough to allow someone else to have a chance sometimes? Our experience gives us knowledge of what has and has not worked. We can share that without trying to control the outcome. When we start taking it all very personally, we might want to consider whether it’s time to step back. Knowing when to let go—of a point, a decision, or a position—takes prayer and practice. Rotation is an important principle in service for our own well-being, and for our fellowship as well.
Service can be an escape, or it can give us access to new parts of ourselves by allowing skills and interests to surface. When we think we’re climbing a ladder, using our position as proof of some kind of success, that’s just ego in action. But when we are giving back out of gratitude, selflessly and with the best interests of the whole at heart, we find that the experience can be as rewarding as it is productive. When we are spiritually awake, we need to be of service—and we have to do the step work to handle it.
We find a balance between service inside and outside NA as well. We care for one another in little ways—taking someone to a meeting, or bringing a meal to a sick friend. The program allows each of us to find the ways we are most comfortable giving, and the ways we are most comfortable asking for help. We confront our limitations, including the limits of our compassion, and learn to be realistic about what we can and cannot do.
When we have experience in service, we can be a resource and a mentor for others. We do that in a spirit of humility when we are committed to bringing more members into the process without retaining control. Patience, kindness, and trust are key to the process. If we treat others with trust and respect, we are likely to receive it in turn. We can lead by example, helping to guide discussion and focus energy without trying to influence the outcome. Participating without seeking the illusion of control sets the model for the rest of our lives. In whatever capacity we find ourselves, we serve NA with dedication and love when we serve with humility. Although we sometimes associate leadership with a lack of humility, for us it’s refusing to serve at all that fosters our egoism and impatience. Service is always humbling. We learn to be servants. We walk through all of our ego stuff on the way. When we forget that we are just a small part of a greater whole, we are in trouble.
There are some words we use differently in NA than in the rest of the world. When we talk about addiction, for example, we are addressing a spiritual disease that affects all areas of our lives. When we share about sanity, we’re not interested in clinical definitions: We look to our own experience for a practical understanding that works for us. And when we talk about leadership in NA, we’re not implying that some members have more power or authority than others. Leadership here is about sharing our experience in a spirit of humility and unity. We practice leadership in NA by serving selflessly. Whatever our service, we remember the suffering addict in all that we do, and we practice acceptance, courage, and action.
Responsibility is one of the most important principles we practice in NA, and service is one of the best ways we learn to practice it. Service keeps us involved with and surrounded by recovery, and it gives us opportunities to practice acceptance as well. By sharing our experience with other addicts, we gain a deeper understanding of ourselves. Seldom do addicts stay clean for long without practicing selfless service in one form or another. NA gives freely, but there’s only so much we can simply take from the program. After a while, the rewards are not from what we are given but from what we give. The real work begins here, and not all of us are up to it. Reaping rewards means we must sow the seeds through action. There is responsibility in recovery, and it begins with taking responsibility for our recovery.
Sometimes just being accountable to something is rewarding. For those of us who don’t have a lot of experience being responsible, this can be a really good lesson. Others have far too much experience being responsible, and service work teaches us to let go. Flexibility, tolerance, and balance are principles we learn to practice as we serve.
We learn to practice unity, even when it’s uncomfortable, and we get to exercise our courage. “All my life I felt less than,” a member shared. “A stranger would frown at me and I would have a bad day. Service helped me feel worthy.”
Principles, Practice, and Perspective
NA service must always be done in the spirit of carrying the message to the addict who still suffers. This is our fellowship’s primary purpose, and when we deviate from that we open the door to distracting influences. But there is rarely a time when our motives are entirely pure. Selfless service is our goal, but one of the things that makes service so rewarding is the knowledge that we are valuable and useful. It’s not that the service we do is either entirely selfless or all about getting an ego-fix. The work we do can keep us together while we’re waiting to feel good about ourselves. Our acceptance of that allows us to improve rather than to pretend we have it all together. It’s not selfish to know that having a purpose makes us feel better. If we are acting in goodwill—doing the right thing for the right reasons—we are sure to benefit. Each of us has something to give, and allowing us to do that is part of helping each other to recover. It’s an ongoing process. We find a niche for ourselves, learn to be comfortable there, outgrow it, and find a new one. Each time we learn something about ourselves, and often we learn to do something new. A member shared, “It seems like the more experience I get, the more inexperienced I realize I am.”
Another member looked back on her introduction to service: “There was arguing, politics, agendas, and overall chaos. Yet from the moment the meeting started, I felt the love. Being new, it was exactly what I was used to, and I felt like I fit in.”
That is not to say that disorder for its own sake is a good idea. But just like in our personal recovery, the hard parts are often where the lessons are. Letting new people serve allows more people to learn from the experience of serving. It also opens us to new ideas and new ways of doing things. There can be value in reinventing the wheel, even if it can seem like a pretty inefficient way to do business. We each learn from going through the process, and sometimes we also get a better wheel.
Everything changes—that’s good news and bad news. Growing through the changes doesn’t necessarily mean agreeing with them. But good-natured flexibility is a key to happy recovery. We try to have faith in the long view. It might be evolution or growing pains, but it’s not necessarily ours to figure out. We don’t have a crystal ball. An uncomfortable outcome is a phase in our development, not the end of our story. It’s true in our personal recovery, and it’s true in our fellowship as well. We grow and change, and our needs grow and change too. If we are involved in starting NA in a particular area, it can be very uncomfortable when that area settles into being a community. If we are involved in a particular kind of service for a long time, it can be difficult to allow others to step in and to accept that there is more than one way to do the job. When our identity gets wrapped up in how it used to be, we can’t reach out in the same way. It’s harder to ask for help because “they do it wrong,” and it’s hard to carry a message because our disappointment is so evident.
The fact that NA is different than it used to be is a consequence of our success and our growth. And chances are it’s not really that different. The basics don’t change.
The message we carry doesn’t change. The things we need to do to stop using, lose the desire, and find a new way to live really don’t change. Because we feel safe in the rooms, we feel like we know our place and we don’t want anything to change. But when what we know best isn’t wanted or needed in the same way, it’s hard not to take it personally. We can have a fit when the chairs are rearranged at our home group. Learning to work with new people, trying new ways of doing things, can be painful and awkward. We allow one
another to feel like we have a place in service and in the fellowship when we make it open and welcoming. Just saying “please” and “thank you” can make all the difference in the world.
If we embrace the principles of recovery, we naturally embrace the fellowship and help it to grow. Each of us does this in our own way. We may love and nourish our home group. We may start a meeting. Some of us are exceptional at working with new members. Others of us are great at communication. We may enjoy putting on events, or making beautiful websites. When service is in our heart, we find ways to be useful just as we are. The service that we do may never involve being “voted in” to anything. When we value one another’s experience and work to make service fun, interesting, and inclusive, we find that there really is a place at the table for all of us. Just as service helps each of us grow, we need everyone’s involvement to ensure that we are carrying our message as well and as widely as we can.
When we trust the Second Tradition, we can allow ourselves and others to make mistakes. Sometimes the mistakes we make in service—as in our lives—bring us to the next place we need to go. Trusting the Second Tradition gives us hope. We know that a loving God is in charge, and that the process is alive no matter what happens. Our judgments can interfere with the message getting through. We don’t have to be the best person in the room to be the best person for the job. Part of making service attractive is finding a place for the people who are attracted to it.
It’s essential in whatever way we give back that we are able to share with others and to cooperate, and these are not skills most of us bring to the rooms with us. Service teaches us to communicate, and it can be one of the most frustrating lessons we ever go through. Over and over we find ourselves in the position that we think we are offering information, and others seem not to get it—or not remember having gotten it.
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