Stigma Busting: Sharing Recovery Stories

"Hi, my name is Julie, and I'm an alcoholic."

For most of the 20th Century, these words would only be spoken in an Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) meeting or in a treatment facility. Why? Because of deeply engrained stigma found in American culture, dating back centuries. In colonial times, ale and spirits were common staples in our diet, and people who drank to excess were seen as morally weak and burdens to the community. It's no wonder that early families tried to keep such behavior secret. In later years, alcohol was not the only problematic substance as other drugs, such as opiates and cocaine, were available, initially for medical purposes. At the start of the 20th Century, a national reform movement succeeded in making Congress pass legislation to control the use of numerous substances. This led to black market sales of these drugs and increased stigma because people buying and using these illicit substances were now viewed as criminals. The mass incarceration of substance users starting in the 1980s further solidified negative judgments by the public.

When AA began in 1935, shortly after the repeal of Prohibition, anonymity was a foundational principle to shield its members from the stigma and discrimination associated with alcoholism. While it was essential to provide a safe place for alcoholics to share their experience, strength and hope, it kept not only the disease of alcoholism hidden, but also the miracle of recovery. This left stigma and misconceptions unchecked for more decades.

One notable exception to covering up one's diagnosis and recovery occurred in 1978, when Betty Ford, the former first lady, disclosed her alcoholism on national television. She did so with grace and dignity, countering the common profile of an alcoholic as a degenerate. Her disclosure opened the door for other celebrities to share their stories, yet there was no immediate rush for most people in recovery to tell their stories in public. In America, celebrities often are believed to live by their own rules. For other people, such openness may threaten their employment.

Some treatment programs followed Betty Ford's lead in trying to reduce stigma by highlighting the disease concept of alcoholism via family programs and community seminars. The rallying slogan, "Treatment Works," was coined to instill hope for recovery. Unfortunately, this occurred at a time when insurance companies were shifting to a managed care model which limited reimbursement for many clinical services. Most treatment centers began discontinuing their family programs and reducing the length of care their clients would receive. Such cuts limited the effectiveness of treatment and produced greater relapse rates, causing even more stigma as the general public doubted that treatment really works.

Thankfully, in the 1990s, Bill White and others championed the Recovery Management Model, which emphasized the importance of supporting ongoing recovery in the community, instead of the previous focus on treatment services in the confines of facilities. Two other key features of this model were creating recovery support services provided by peers in recovery and facilitating the development of linkages among community organizations to meet the multiple needs of people in recovery, such as sober housing, jobs, education, medical services and more. This revolutionary approach served to shine light on substance use disorders as a public health issue, not a criminal justice issue. It helped to change the recovering person from a passive recipient of services to a community activist, promoting recovery via one's actions and voice. Since then, millions of recovery stories are being shared in public. These stories are told by individuals in recovery and by loving family members who have found healing in numerous ways. These stories are told by local police chiefs and judges who have come to recognize people in recovery as trustworthy allies, trying to enhance their community's health and well-being. These stories are also told by citizens who initially tried to stop a recovery home from entering their community and later appreciated these new residents as helpful neighbors.

Sharing one's recovery story is an important tool in stigma busting because it reveals the transformative power of recovery. There are other benefits, too. When people prepare to tell their stories, they have the opportunity to see their lives through a new lens to find a meaningful order from their past chaos. For many, they find answers to the long-asked question, "What is my purpose?" Lastly, as more people describe the various ways they initiated and sustained recovery, it confirms there are multiple pathways of recovery. This helps newcomers to consider what is the right path for them. Recovery is always possible, but one size does not fit all.

Keep in mind, September is Recovery Month. As it approaches, I hope all of us can find ways to celebrate in public as there will be many gatherings, such as recovery walks and community health fairs to highlight recovery. If you have a recovery story, share it. If you are not in recovery, attend an event and listen to hear how miracles happen.

Recovery rocks! Let your voice be heard!