LOL Sober

If you want to subscribe to LOL Sober, hit the purple button below. I’m mostly publishing free pieces but I am hoping to generate a few bucks to pay for my web site and some other costs. Paid subscribers do have access to frequent premium pieces—such as THIS comedy special about my 10 favorite addiction/sobriety jokes!

I’ve often wondered, why does the 12-step approach to God and faith work so well for me when I struggled with it for most of my life?

The answer came to me at a meeting the other day where the importance of faith was the topic. It’s still amazing to me sometimes that spending an hour listening to people unpack a topic can go so far to assist me in my life. It just doesn’t happen if I spend an hour talking to my friends about football games, or scrolling Instagram reels for 45 minutes. I have to be in the right environment.

Lots of people shared about how they had bad experiences with religion when they were younger, and that has made it hard for them to go back to any kind of church. I never had bad experiences in church, but I never did connect with a specific church, religion or concept of God. And I did see instances where religion tore people apart, not brought them together.

But with the help of people and the principles of recovery, I have gotten to a place where I found a faith that works. Mine is squishy and hard to explain to anybody else. But I have just come to believe that I do not know how we got here or where we go when we die. I don’t understand some of the magnificence of the universe, and neither do scientists—I still often think about a 60 Minutes piece I saw about 5 years ago about NASA. In it, some of the world’s smartest space experts ended up agreeing that we know about 5 percent of how the world and the universe work. Think about that—for every 1 thing we know, there are 19 that we don’t. How did the universe start? Is there other life? Where do stars come from? Why are there stars? Why are we here? What’s in a black hole?

The answer: They don’t really know! That’s enough for me to stop picking holes in anybody else’s theory about how we got here.

The big thing that hit me during that meeting was that I think the reason recovery-based faith works so well for me and so many others is that we leave it open-ended. So much of my experience with religion has a specific final destination you have to get to—believe in this exact God, with his picture on the wall, and do these exact 10 things to become saved, and never interact with other concepts of higher powers, and always try to collect other people to believe the same thing… it just doesn’t work for me. It may sound like I am pointing directly at Christianity, but I’m not. I think almost every version of organized religion that I have encountered has some pretty strict requirements that the entire congregation must get to, or else you might not qualify. There’s a not a lot of room to introduce what those NASA people said without somebody smiling and saying that they already know the answer based on a book that people wrote hundreds or thousands of years ago.

So with recovery faith, we’re encouraged to keep trying, and there’s no test or criteria for how you get there. Most of the people who bristle badly at the idea of God being mentioned in recovery say that with their fists balled up, acting as if other sober people are going to come to their houses and question if they’ve been a good boy or not. There’s nothing like that. I’ve been sober for 16 years. Been to thousands of meetings. Had thousands of phone calls with sober people. Nobody has ever inquired about my relationship with my higher power, or interrogated me on what it is.

I love that, and I think most people in recovery do. One of my favorite recovery stories was that I once was struggling with figuring out the God thing and I asked a guy, “Who is your higher power and how do you stay connected to it?”

And he took a bite of his breakfast and said, “It’s interesting that you should ask. I’m actually between higher powers right now. I’m looking at a few possibilities…”

It blew my mind, in the best possible way. He was talking about finding faith as if he were considering switching realtors or his wireless company! It was a spiritual experience, because I realized this wonderful sober person had embraced the idea of finding a higher power that is loving, kind and not rigid. That’s what I needed, and continue to need… though I’m always looking at all the possibilities.

This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke:

HEARD AT MEETINGS:

“When I go to one AA meeting a week, I can stay sober. When I go to two meetings a week, I start to like myself. When I go to at least three meetings a week, other people begin to like me.”

(Credit: AA Grapevine, June 2001, Thomas W. from Missoula, Montana)

Please spread the word to a sober friend! Find me on Substack… or Twitter… or Facebook… or Instagram… or YouTube. And introducing my web site, LOLsober.com.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit nelsonh.substack.com/subscribe

If you want to subscribe to LOL Sober, hit the purple button below. I’m mostly publishing free pieces but I am hoping to generate a few bucks to pay for my web site and some other costs. Paid subscribers do have access to frequent premium pieces—such as THIS comedy special about my 10 favorite addiction/sobriety jokes!

I went to a meeting this week where we read from Living Sober, and we were on a chapter that unpacked the Serenity Prayer. It was an eye-opening experience, at the exact time when I needed to sit with the serenity prayer.

It hit me during the meeting how much I tend to quickly summarize the serenity prayer. It’s not that I don’t love the serenity prayer—I do. But I often truncate the meaning of it, which diminishes its usefulness to me. I often just summarize it in my head as, “Acceptance is the answer.” Which is absolutely one of the keys to a happy life.

But something changed for me that day. I sat with the serenity prayer for an hour, going over it repeatedly and listening to others share as realized a startling truth—the serenity prayer isn’t just words that boil down to acceptance being the answer. It is a cheat code with multiple action steps that I need to take in order for it to become true. I also realized for the first time that it is exactly 25 words long, and that those 25 words are worth millions and millions of words.

Let me just include the serenity prayer here for practical purposes:

God grant me the serenity,

to accept the things I cannot change,

courage to change the things I can,

and wisdom to know the difference.

First and foremost, I never noticed that there is a command in the first sentence—I need to ask God for the serenity. Think about that for a second: I can’t just roll into figuring out what I can control and what I can’t. I need to work for serenity first.

That is a huge thing. In fact, it might be the most important thing. When I say the serenity prayer, I’m usually not in a great head space and I haven’t done anything to achieve serenity before unpacking everything else.

For me, that means I need to ask God directly to be granted serenity, then I need to do all of the things that are available to me to get to a serene place. That’s getting to meetings, calling other addicts, going for a walk, going to the gym, meditating, taking a nap, etc. That’s real work—just saying “grant me the serenity” to God isn’t the answer. I never have said the serenity prayer and been immediately plowed over by a dumptruck full of serenity. I need to chip in and do some work too. And remember, I can’t really do anything else related to acceptance until I am serene. It’s a little bit like buying books for a college class when you haven’t been accepted into the college. The cart is in front of the horse.

OK, so I need to get to a serene place before anything else. For me, serenity isn’t instant. I’d say it is a minimum of about an hour away, which usually means that I can get there if I get to a meeting. Then I am feeling much more serene during a tough time.

Now I need to use that serenity to accept the things I cannot change. That means I need to do two followup things: I need to figure out what that list looks like, and I need to grind away at accepting those things. It’s not just the list—it’s getting to a place of acceptance of that list, too. And like serenity, acceptance is not something that many of us can just hit a button and achieve.

The next thing is the courage to change the things I can. Again, there are two actions there—I need to ask God for courage, then I need to do the work I need to do in order to change the things that I can.

It’s funny that the final thing is actually sort of one of the first things—wisdom to know the difference. I actually need the wisdom earlier in the process so that I can sort out what is changeable and what is not.

Last thing that hit me: The serenity prayer is 25 words. At meetings, we often say it and there are 27 words in it. Most people add “the” before courage and wisdom. That’s probably the second-biggest revelation that hit me during the meeting. But hey, saving two words every time ain’t nothing!

This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke:

Three worldviews:

The pessimist’s: The cup is half empty.

The optimist’s: The cup is half full.

The alcoholic’s: Are you going to drink that?

(Credit: AA Grapevine, June 2001, Jana D. from Los Angeles, California)

Please spread the word to a sober friend! Find me on Substack… or Twitter… or Facebook… or Instagram… or YouTube. And introducing my web site, LOLsober.com.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit nelsonh.substack.com/subscribe

If you want to subscribe to LOL Sober, hit the purple button below. I’m mostly publishing free pieces but I am hoping to generate a few bucks to pay for my web site and some other costs. Paid subscribers do have access to frequent premium pieces—such as THIS comedy special about my 10 favorite addiction/sobriety jokes!

Did you know QTIPs are not supposed to go into your ears? Like, not at all. The manufacturer says you can clean around the outside of your ears, but not inside. And the main use, apparently, is supposed to be for applying or removing makeup.

Interesting, huh? Has anybody else spent at least 40 years destroying your ear drums with a product you thought was supposed to clean those same ear drums?

Today, I’m actually more interested in the acronym, QTIP: Quit Taking It Personally. That phrase comes up quite a bit in recovery, but I’ve heard many others outside the rooms use it, too.

The idea of not taking things personally certainly isn’t new, and we throw that phrase around a lot. If you think about the past five times you’ve been really upset, I bet all five on some level involve taking something too personal. But it’s worth a deeper look.

First, let me just say that sometimes people do things or say things are personal insults and those insults sting, and that’s okay. I’ve spoken about how valuable the book The Four Agreements has been for me, and one of the agreements is to not take things personally ever. An example in the book is that you should never take a single thing personally, even if someone punches you in the face.

Uh, okay, I guess I understand the value of not taking things personally in that instance. But come on… let me say for the record that if you punch me in the face, it will be taken personally, and there will be a punch coming back at you. So even though I get that not taking things personally is valuable almost all the time, I also think if someone punches you or says, “You’re fat and ugly, and I wish I could kick your dog,” well, I’m sorry, that’s pretty personal. If it hurts, I think that’s human. To not ever take a single thing personally seems like an AI nightmare. I just don’t know that I even want to try for 100 percent success rate in that regard. I’d be more robot than person.

Secondly, I think it’s worth everybody sitting with the question, what do I think taking something personally means? And is there a difference between taking something personally and taking something TOO personal? I think there is. If you get a little pissy because you’re sitting at a red light and the light turns green and the guy behind you immediately lays on the horn, is that taking it personal? I’d say yes, and I don’t know if that’s problematic. When I get feedback on a work project, or reminded that I keep leaving the toilet seat up, that is personal information that might sting a little bit. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that, and I actually think it’s a good thing to be receptive to reasonable feedback and adjust because you don’t want it to happen again.

The issue, of course, is when that driver honks and you scream back and begin hiring a hitman to wipe the guy out. That, to me, is taking things too personal. That usually means that that honk got right past my shields and cut right into my self esteem. That’s not good—that’s where QTIP really helps me. Quit. Taking. It. Personally.

The third thing is, how do I QTIP? It’s a great acronym. But how do I actually quit taking stuff personal? I have two solutions, and both require work.

One is, do esteemable things. My self esteem is high when I am doing things that build up my self worth. I was part of a group of sober people who took a meal into a homeless shelter this past weekend, and it’s among the most worthwhile, fulfilling acts of service I have ever done in my life. It’s hard for a horn honk to rattle me to my core right now.

The other thing that is very helpful for me is to figure out the action stuff that breaks the cycle of feeling wounded from something. Let’s say you get shitty feedback on a work project and it cuts you deeply. My tendency is to sit on the couch and stew, or sometimes call somebody else from work and vent. I find that to be incredibly unproductive—it just solidifies the loop I am going to be stuck in for the next eight hours.

But there are other action things that do help bust up that cycle of rumination. Praying for someone you’re mad at almost always works for me. Going for walks helps. Running really helps me—it’s almost like difficult movement helps digest resentments. Finding some piece of engrossing entertainment can sometimes pull me out of taking something too personal—a book, a podcast, a movie, a football game. Meetings and calls with sober friends often work their magic on me taking things too personally.

At the end of the day, I have to be able to find a way to live where the most important part of my self-worth is my opinion of myself, not others. And that means not taking things from the outside world as devastating blows to my self esteem.

Hopefully you got something out of this. And if not, I won’t take it personally.

This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke:

Walking up to his friend’s house, a fellow noticed his buddy’s dog lying in the driveway, whining. So when his pal answered the door, he asked, “What’s wrong with your dog?”

“Nothing,” explained the buddy, “he’s just lying on a sharp rock.”

“Why doesn’t he move then?” asked the fellow.

“I guess he’s more like me than I realized,” the friend answered. “The rock doesn’t hurt enough yet to make him move, just enough to make him whine.”

(Credit: AA Grapevine, June 2001, Larry M. from Spoke, Washington)

Please spread the word to a sober friend! Find me on Substack… or Twitter… or Facebook… or Instagram… or YouTube. And introducing my web site, LOLsober.com.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit nelsonh.substack.com/subscribe

If you want to subscribe to LOL Sober, hit the purple button below. I’m mostly publishing free pieces but I am hoping to generate a few bucks to pay for my web site and some other costs. Paid subscribers do have access to frequent premium pieces—such as THIS comedy special about my 10 favorite addiction/sobriety jokes!

For my entire life, I can remember a common debate between people around the question of, Is weed addictive?

I get asked that quite a bit, and I have my own answer to that question. But I’ll answer broadly first.

Weed usually sparks some very interesting conversation, with a wide array of responses. The general consensus seems to be no, marijuana is not an addictive substance, and that certainly seems to have picked up steam over the past 20 years or so as marijuana laws have been significantly scaled back. I’d say I am out once a week these days and encounter a weed cloud in a public place where I don’t remember that happening before. It sure seems like at least 51 percent of the general public is pretty chill about putting marijuana in a separate category than cocaine, opiates and other drugs.

There’s also a key distinction that I run into a lot when talking with normal, non-alcoholic/addict friends—the difference between physically addictive and mentally addictive. Is weed physically addictive? The verdict seems to be no, you won’t have physical withdrawals if you stop. But are donuts physically addictive? Is money physically addictive? Is love physically addictive? Probably not, right?

But does a person with an addictive personality come to rely upon them in an unhealthy way? In my experience, yes, that’s possible. So is a donut addictive? Lots of people would say no. But for an addict like me, if I eat 10 donuts every day and think I can’t live without them… well, look out if you try to stop me from my donuts.

OK, now let me give my personal answer, which—sort of—came up recently at a doctor’s visit for me. As I have written about many times before, I had the ends of both amputated 20 years ago. I’m doing well these days, but my feet are a significant disability that cause me pain every day. I got a new podiatrist, and she is awesome. She’s about 40 years old. Super smart. Super energetic. Her office is cool and upbeat and seems like it is run by a cool 40-year-old doctor. When I told her that I am in recovery and don’t want to mess around with any sort of medication, she had a very good understanding of what I was saying to her. I’ve had doctors who listen to me explain my past and then they nod their head and say, “OK, we’ll keep you off morphine but here’s a prescription for 300 Vicodin.” Not her. She got it.

Well, at least I thought she did. At the end of the conversation, I mentioned that my foot pain keeps me up some nights, and she said, “Just take one or two Benadryl. That will help.” I said that I didn’t think that was a good idea, and she said, “Just take one once in a while. Not every day.” I still said I didn’t want to do that, that I had messed around with Benadryl during my active drinking and drugging days and that I had abused it.

She said," “Well, you’re sober now, so you know now to do that.”

I ended up just nodding my head and saying I’d think about it. But I couldn’t believe it.

What she was missing is that for somebody who is an addict, such as myself, everything should be treated as potentially addictive until proven otherwise. I drank and did drugs because I wanted to change the way that I felt. Was there physical addiction, too? Yes, eventually. But it was a two-pronged addiction that involved my mind and my body.

So to come back to the original question: Is weed addictive? I don’t know what the medical journals and rehabs will end up saying about that 50 years from now. I never did much weed and didn’t enjoy it when I did. But when I think about whether weed is addictive, my answer is yes… for me!

This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke:

HEARD AT MEETINGS: “At first I thought the ‘God thing’ was a crutch. Turns out to be stilts.”

(Credit: AA Grapevine, May 2001, Mark)

Please spread the word to a sober friend! Find me on Substack… or Twitter… or Facebook… or Instagram… or YouTube. And introducing my web site, LOLsober.com.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit nelsonh.substack.com/subscribe

If you want to subscribe to LOL Sober, hit the purple button below. I’m mostly publishing free pieces but I am hoping to generate a few bucks to pay for my web site and some other costs. Paid subscribers do have access to frequent premium pieces—such as THIS comedy special about my 10 favorite addiction/sobriety jokes!

I saw a movie recently where a guy gets sober, and his mom hugs him and says, “I haven’t seen my son in a long time.” It’s a powerful scene, where you feel the weight of a loved one disappearing before a mom’s eyes.

Is it a little ridiculous? Yeah, probably. In the movie, the guy had a few weeks sober and all of a sudden he was back to his idealized, pre-substance abuse self. In my experience, that can take a little bit longer than Hollywood run times allow.

But it does capture a general truism that I have encountered: We vanish before the people who care about us. Sometimes it’s slow. Sometimes it’s fast. But whoever that person cared about gets swallowed up by the substance abuse, and the other person just has to watch it happen. Brutal. Absolutely brutal.

The only reason I feel like I truly understand that concept now is because I’ve ended up caring about so many people in recovery who go back out and continue to vanish before my eyes. That’s when the reality of addiction really hit home for me, and I had a new appreciation for people who stuck by me. They didn’t have to.

One other thing that hit me when I was watching that movie was the idea that that mom got her son back… but she better hope her son doesn’t go back to being the exact same person, just without the booze. In my experience, yes, my loved ones got me back. But to live a different life, I had to start to become somebody different, and that can cause some friction. If your loved ones missed the old you, and the old you needs to continue to grow in order to not relapse and die, then there could be some areas of conflict on the horizon. But those areas are important for that sober person.

I’ll give you one example from my own life. When I got sober, I really started to take commitments more serious than I ever had before. If I said I’d meet you at 1 pm, I would do everything I could to be standing at that place at 1 pm or a little earlier. Until I got sober, even before I became a raging addict and alcoholic, 1 pm and 1:15 pm were basically the same thing.

I remember in my early days of sobriety, I wasn’t drinking, but I’d still show up at 7 pm recovery meetings at 7:10. I’ll never forget going to a New York City meeting a few minutes late and raising my hand to share, and the chairperson said, “Sorry, you were late.” Turns out, they had a rule that late people couldn’t share. I remember how pissed I was at the rule, then I realized I was pissed at myself for that character defect.

The friction started happening at home because my wife and kids had never really paid attention to time before. We would roll out whenever we rolled out, and we would apologize and smile and do nothing about making other people wait for us to arrive. When I started to insist that we leave on time, woo boy, there was some significant whining and complaining and snapping at each other and pacing… so much pacing. Me pacing in the living room. Then me pacing out front in the yard, right in front of the windows so that my pacing could be seen.

That may sound like a little thing. But anybody who’s married with kids knows that this happens every single day, where you’re in the car and someone forgets something and you have to wait, and people start bickering with each other… it actually adds up to something pretty significant. I definitely could have cooled it down a bit on the pacing and acting aggravated. But I did think making a commitment to being timely was an important change in my life and our lives. So I am glad that it became more important to me.

So that is a good example of how many of us can’t just go back to being that 25-year-old version of ourselves. We need to turn into the 35- or 52-year-old version of ourselves that we were meant to be. And for some of us, that comes with a little bit of pacing in the front yard.

This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke:

HEARD AT MEETINGS: Show me an alcoholic whose Big Book is falling apart, and I’ll show you an alcoholic who isn’t.”

(Credit: AA Grapevine, May 2001, Earl T. from Buhl, Idaho)

Please spread the word to a sober friend! Find me on Substack… or Twitter… or Facebook… or Instagram… or YouTube. And introducing my web site, LOLsober.com.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit nelsonh.substack.com/subscribe

If you want to subscribe to LOL Sober, hit the purple button below. I’m mostly publishing free pieces but I am hoping to generate a few bucks to pay for my web site and some other costs. Paid subscribers do have access to frequent premium pieces—such as THIS comedy special about my 10 favorite addiction/sobriety jokes!

I have a hot take that has been coming up a lot recently for me: I think we use the word “perfectionist” too much. And that includes me.

I think many people say “I’m a perfectionist” as if it’s a medical diagnosis, and they’re using it in a way where they can chalk up their behavior to something that can’t turn off.

But are any of us truly that level of perfectionist? Or are lots of us, me included, applying it whenever and wherever we feel like it?

I was at a meeting recently and that concept came up in a very helpful way. Perfectionism pops up a surprising number of times in the sobriety community, because I do think many of us have issues with seeking out a world that is exactly as we want it. Quite a few people chimed in with comments about their own experiences with perfectionism.

My issue with that word is that I often catch myself being full of s**t. In my head, a true perfectionist strives to do everything at a very high level, to the point where it becomes problematic. With me, I’d be lazy about lots of things and a perfectionist about certain other things.

At the meeting the other day, a guy shared that perfectionism is a more profound term to him than just getting stuck on a work project or being anal about your garden at home. He said that when he catches himself using it, he’s sometimes trying to blame his DNA for something that is actually just him being an a*****e.

I identify with that. When I have told a coworker that I don’t like a workplace project’s direction because I am a perfectionist, that’s not usually true—it’s more that I picked out one project that was very important to me and disagreed with whatever was happening with it. And yet there would be 10 other projects where I was not demanding perfectionism on them. So is that perfectionism? Or is that just me insisting on my way whenever I feel like it?

I think it’s the latter. And I think it’s important because I do believe sometimes I lean on the idea of being a perfectionist as a code word for “This is what I want and it’s not happening the way I want it.” And that’s not perfectionism—that’s just a*****e-ism.

Going forward, I am going to be very careful when I try applying that word in my life. I think I might have been using that word as a way to cover up a serious amount of b******t. So from now on, I am going to be a perfectionist about the use of the word perfectionist.

This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke:

OVERHEARD IN A BAR:

“My mother lived to be 98 and never needed glasses.”

“She reached 98 and never needed glasses?”

“Nope. She drank right out of the bottle.”

(Credit: AA Grapevine, May 2001, Frank C. from Bronxville, New York)

Please spread the word to a sober friend! Find me on Substack… or Twitter… or Facebook… or Instagram… or YouTube. And introducing my web site, LOLsober.com.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit nelsonh.substack.com/subscribe

If you want to subscribe to LOL Sober, hit the purple button below. I’m mostly publishing free pieces but I am hoping to generate a few bucks to pay for my web site and some other costs. Paid subscribers do have access to frequent premium pieces—such as THIS comedy special about my 10 favorite addiction/sobriety jokes!

I’ve been pretty aggravated driving around my town recently because there has been a lot of road construction going on. It’s nothing major—it’s usually lane closures or short detours.

But it tacks on a few minutes to short drives, and that has caused me on more than one occasion to be frustrated and growling under my breath as I wait in traffic. It’s the epitome of a luxury problem to have a 6-minute drive turn into a 9-minute drive and you’re pulling your hair out and cursing out road crews—with the windows up, of course. I don’t need a road construction worker to kick the s**t out of me for barking at him.

I’ve also caught myself on more than one occasion groaning at meetings if someone shows up that I don’t particularly want to hear share that night. I don’t really despise anybody in sobriety, and I tend to not avoid meetings if I think someone I don’t care for will be there. But that thought has been crossing my mind quite a bit lately—I have several meetings where there’s a person or format that I don’t love, so I cross it off the list.

So last Friday, I went to a new meeting in the next town over, and I had to laugh when I sat down and noticed a pinboard behind the chairperson. There were multiple signs up announcing upcoming sober events, and a few meetings that could use more support. And then there was a big orange traffic sign that said, “Character Construction Zone.”

For some reason, that sign really hit me, because it tapped into both areas of recent frustration, the road construction and the people, places and things that annoy me at meetings. It hit me in the moment that I need to never, ever forget that we’re all characters, and we all probably have some character defects to work on, and we’re showing up at that particular meeting at that particular time because we want to do that work. There are definitely people in recovery who have what I want, and there are definitely people in recovery who have what I DON’T want. It’s fine—we need all the different flavors of sobriety to make 12-step recovery possible.

On a deeper level, any time I notice multiple areas where I am aggravated, it always means one thing—I am walking out into the world with an idea of how things should go, and it usually is the way that I want them to go. When they inevitably don’t go that way, that leads to aggravation.

I find that to be a self-centered way to approach life, and it usually means my faith in a higher power has dwindled. To put it bluntly, it usually means that I am my higher power. Spoiler alert: That rarely works out.

So I made a promise to myself that I would get to meetings this week that benefit my recovery, without taking attendance of who I like and who I don’t. And I also vowed to be more relaxed about accepting roadwork as a necessary part of life. (But holy s**t, if they close that right lane on Main Street again, all bets are off…)

This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke:

A guy goes into a bar, takes a seat and orders five pints. The bartender gives him an odd look since the guy’s all by himself, but he lines up five pints on the bar.

The guy downs them. One, two, three, four, five. He finishes the last one, and calls to the bartender. “Four pints, please, mate!” The bartender serves up four pints and lines them on the bar.

The guy downs them. One, two, three, four. Then he belches, sways on the barstool, and orders two more. He quickly knocks them back. One, two, three.

“Two pints, mate!” he calls, and when the bartender places two pints in front of him, down they go. One, two.

The guy slams the last one down, puts the empty glass on the bar, and says, “One pint, mate.” So the bartender fills the glass.

The guy sits there, staring at it for a moment, trying to focus. Then he looks at the bartender: “Y’know, it’sh a funny thing, but the less I drink, the drunker I get.”

(Credit: AA Grapevine, May 2001, Anonymous)

Please spread the word to a sober friend! Find me on Substack… or Twitter… or Facebook… or Instagram… or YouTube. And introducing my web site, LOLsober.com.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit nelsonh.substack.com/subscribe

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Let me give you a sober scenario about gossip. I went to a meeting recently where the topic was how hurtful gossip can be, and it really got me thinking about what the definition of gossip is, why it’s so appealing but yet toxic and what I can do avoid participating in it.

I’m making up this scenario, including the names. Here goes:

You go to a Sunday meeting and meet a new guy named Mike. After the meeting, you’re talking to Mike and your sober friend Biff comes up. You all start talking together and exchange numbers.

The next week, you go to the same meeting and the same thing happens. You, Mike and Biff all catch up, and Mike says he’s got two weeks sober and struggling a little bit, but he says overall, he’s doing pretty well.

That week, you talk to Mike on the phone and he seems to still be doing okay. He says he is getting to a different meeting on Sunday this upcoming weekend because of a scheduling conflict, so he won’t see you there.

That weekend, you go to the meeting and Biff is there. But no Mike. Afterward, you and Biff are talking and he says, “I was hoping Mike would be there. Have you talked to him? How’s he doing?”

Now here is the question: What do you say in this situation? Is it gossip to say that you talked to Mike during the week?

My first thought is, that’s not gossip. That’s genuine concern over a new mutual friend trying to stay sober. I think I’d say, “I talked to him this week. He sounded pretty good. He said he was going to another meeting.”

But think about it a little more. What if Mike doesn’t really love Biff’s message at meetings? What if he is cordial after meetings and likes Biff, but doesn’t want him close to his sobriety? What if he has decided that he doesn’t really need Biff in his business, but he does trust you? Aren’t you pulling Biff into Mike’s sobriety more than he would like? I think the answer is yes, but that is actually a pretty harmless example.

But think about a slightly different version of that scenario. Let’s say Mike called you during the week and said he relapsed and is struggling, but he’s getting to a different meeting on Sunday. Is it gossip to pass along that Mike relapsed? Or anything from that conversation?

That’s a tougher one. The thing to remember is that in a real-life version of this story, I’m friends with Biff. We go back a long way. Telling him, “That’s none of your business” sounds good in theory, but he’s a real person, so it can be a little socially awkward to hit someone with that.

I think I would end saying something like, “I did talk to him. You should give him a call. That’s his story to tell.”

You can probably see what I am wrestling with. What exactly constitutes gossip? What if the best thing for Mike might be that other people are concerned about him and trying to connect with him, even if he’s not the most outgoing guy?

For me, I guess the ultimate answer comes down to erring on the side of the spiritual foundation of 12-step recovery: anonymity. I’d rather be too secretive about somebody than not secretive enough, because in my head, sharing too much is generally more harmful than not sharing enough. I’ve never gotten into a pickle or two in recovery or at work because I didn’t gossip about a coworker. But I have had quite a few situations where I think, “Holy s**t, I should have just shut my freaking mouth.”

I have had a few more obvious scenarios pop up, though I wouldn’t say they were easy. A few weeks ago, a sober friend said, “Man, there is some WILD stuff happening here in our sober community.” My first thought was, “Oooh, tell me more!” But my second thought was, “As badly as I would like to know what you’re talking about, I have no business knowing about it. And really, what good would it do me to know about it?” I was pretty proud of myself that I didn’t ask about it and said I didn’t need to know.

That’s the key question for me—when I get involved in a conversation about somebody else who is not standing right there, what is my motive? Is it genuine concern? Or is it a strong desire to know stuff, to judge and to possibly have juicy information to pass along to the next person?

That’s a big question to wrestle with. Why do humans gossip at all? The truth is probably pretty complex, dating back to when cavemen and cavewomen started to form societies and the exchange of information helped bond and unite. But in 2025, we’re not exactly obsessed with where the wooly mammoths have been hiding out. My motives are usually just that I want to know because it makes me feel important. People who know a lot of gossip tend to have social cache—think back to being at an event and somebody says, “Did you hear what happened with Ted and Heather at last year’s work retreat?” If you hadn’t heard what happened with Ted and Heather at the work retreat, you sure would like to know, right? Which elevates the dipshit passing along what happened. (By the way, in case you were wondering, Ted and Heather made out at the work retreat when they were both really drunk. But then Heather accidentally called Ted by a different guy’s name, and Ted started crying. So Heather said, “Do you want to make out some more, Ted?” And he said yes, and they kept making out. Craig from accounting took a picture of them tonguing the living s**t out of each other, but then both Ted and Heather laid their heads down on the table and fell asleep. The next morning, they both laughed and said they didn’t remember it. Thank God Craig had that photo that he texted to everybody!)

The most common form of gossip that I encounter in recovery is, “Hey, was Mike at the meeting on Sunday?” I try to be fair to both sides in that situation. If Mike was at the meeting, I usually end up saying, “Yeah, he was. You should give him a call and say hello.” People usually don’t dig any further. I do think that question is harder than it sounds. On one hand, a friend asking about another guy usually comes from a place of genuine concern, so shutting down that conversation can be pretty awkward, and I do think about how much I needed people checking on me when I first got sober.

On the other hand, by strict definition of gossip and anonymity, saying someone was at a meeting is a clear violation. If you weren’t at the meeting, then it’s none of your business by letter of the law. Anything you shared at the meeting should stay there, including your attendance. And I absolutely think saying anything like, “Yeah, I saw Jane on Tuesday and she said she was really struggling” should probably be avoided.

So what do you do about gossip? It’s something that comes up every single day, multiple times, for me. And it certainly comes up in the recovery community. Here’s my multiple-part answer, which is certainly not something that I have gotten an A+ grade on over the years.

First of all, don’t start any gossip about a specific person, and don’t add to it. I have found it can be tough to be the high-and-mighty asswipe who firebombs a conversation with moral superiority any time somebody else says, “So I heard that Steve might be leaving the company next week…” and I jump in and say, “That’s not appropriate conversation. I refuse to participate.” I usually just try to not contribute anything and perhaps steer the conversation toward something else.

Secondly, always think about your motive. Is it 100 percent, genuine concern? Is it 40 percent concern, 60 percent curiosity? Or is it coming from an even worse place? Sometimes I catch myself talking about work stuff or situations in my neighborhood where it’s more passing along news or asking about news. I’ve said, “What’s going on with that empty house at the end of the block?” out of interest and cu…

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit nelsonh.substack.com/subscribe

If you want to subscribe to LOL Sober, hit the purple button below. I’m mostly publishing free pieces but I am hoping to generate a few bucks to pay for my web site and some other costs. Paid subscribers do have access to frequent premium pieces—such as THIS comedy special about my 10 favorite addiction/sobriety jokes!

Some people see God at church. Some people see God when they look at the stars. Some people see God in nature. Some people see God in the rooms of 12-step recovery. And some people see God… on stones with their dead cats’ names on them.

I bet that sounds weird, huh? Well, let me explain. My wife and I have had seven cats since we have been together (yes, we’re old!). We lost four of them over the years, and with the passing of each, we had a small stone made with their names engraved.

For the past 15 years or so, those stones sat somewhere in our house and I totally forgot we even had them. Then, a few weeks ago, my wife tore out some shrubs in our front yard, near the walkway from the driveway into our house. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to put there instead, but then one day I came home and she had put a bunch of flat stones in the bed, right near where we park our cars.

I thought it was very nice and walked into the house. I walked past the stones the next day and felt the same thing. Then one day I limped home from the gym, sweating and beat up. When I got out of my car, I was a little wobbly and ended up walking on the stones, sort of by accident. I was struck by how grounded those few steps made me. They connected me with my best little furry friends from my past. I had a few moments where I felt incredible love and appreciation for what my cats have provided to me over the years. I also felt a sense of loss that didn’t make me sad; it just made me feel present and grateful for what I had with them, and what I have right now with my three little furry buddies still chasing random paper balls around my house.

You might be wondering, what does this have to do with sobriety? Well, a lot, actually. One of the most important things I need to think about every day is whether what I am doing is contributing to my spiritual condition, or subtracting from it. There are obvious things that contribute to my spiritual condition—going to a 12-step meeting, or talking to my sponsor or a sponsee. There are obvious things that subtract from my spiritual condition—like driving into New York City or arguing with one of my teenaged kids.

But there are lots of not-so-obvious things that can contribute to my spiritual condition, too. Soaking in some sunlight… a late-night peaceful walk… a quiet nap… a good song or two… sitting on a beach… a nice sunset or sunrise… a strong breeze on a warm day… and lots of pet stuff. I find my mood improves every single time one of my cats crawls up beside me and starts purring as I pet the little guy. I also feel a little more serene when I come across a cool dog in the neighborhood. And now I purposely walk through those stones in my front yard because it pulls me closer to the calm, kind place that I want to be.

I’ve had a few times recently where I come home wound up over something, or left the house wound up over something. Every time I walk through that path I feel a little more grounded, a little more right-sized.

So to make my point directly, I am writing about the cat tombstone walk because I think those kinds of things can be very valuable small additions to a better spiritual condition. Some of my best days are when I stack these spiritual things one on top of another. It’s hard to have a bad day if your schedule is stacked with things that introduce joy and gratitude and calm into every hour. You don’t have time to be an a*****e!

That should be your takeaway today: Find small spiritual things and surround yourself with them, so that you run out the clock on being an a*****e!

This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke:

HEARD AT MEETINGS: “I’ve spent my share of nights in jail. Thank God, nowadays, the only thing being arrested is my physical, mental and moral decline.”

(Credit: AA Grapevine, March 2001, Kevin J. from Evanston, Illinois)

Please spread the word to a sober friend! Find me on Substack… or Twitter… or Facebook… or Instagram… or YouTube. And introducing my web site, LOLsober.com.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit nelsonh.substack.com/subscribe

If you want to subscribe to LOL Sober, hit the purple button below. I’m mostly publishing free pieces but I am hoping to generate a few bucks to pay for my web site and some other costs. Paid subscribers do have access to monthly premium pieces—such as THIS comedy special about my 10 favorite addiction/sobriety jokes!

I went to a meeting the other day where the topic ended up being about sponsorship, and how to know when you’re ready to be a great sponsor. Pretty much everybody said what I have come to believe, which is that becoming a great sponsor really isn’t what you’d think. It’s not a degree that you earn, or a black belt that a sensei gives to you after years of training.

That’s because my view of sponsorship in a 12-step program isn’t really about talent or knowledge or even sober time. I do think you want to know the program and believe in it. I also think that the general guidance that you should have a year or more of recovery under your belt is a wise suggestion.

But my version of being a good sponsor is walking the walk, and talking about the walk. That’s it.

I used to get so uptight about being a good sponsor, about needing to have wisdom to pass along, about being nice but direct with sponsees, about always knowing the right thing to say, about never saying the wrong thing that would make someone go back out and drink. But that was overrating what I have come to believe a sponsor is for. I don’t think I need to be some amazing guru who life-coaches you into getting or staying sober. I think I have worked a good recovery program for 16-plus years and I can tell you how I did it. That’s about it.

That’s probably why I struggled so much early on in recovery. I think I was a good sponsor to the first few guys I sponsored. But I definitely think I invested too much of my own sobriety into theirs, and I think I took it way too hard when a few of the guys went back out. Could I have been a better sponsor? Maybe. But in my experience, I think it’s pretty rare that a not-so-great sponsor causes somebody to relapse. As we often say in the rooms, if somebody wants to drink, I probably can’t say anything to make them stop. And if somebody really wants to be sober, I probably can’t say anything to make them want to start drinking.

I used the word “confidence” in the title here because I do think I need to be confident in myself and my program in order to be a good sponsor. Confidence isn’t arrogance, though—I think humility is an essential part of being a solid sponsor. I don’t really want a sponsor who thinks he has all the answers, or talks down to me in a way that I find insulting. I’m not looking to have a drill sergeant as my sponsor, you know?

One other thing that I think relates to confidence as a sponsor… my mentors in sobriety have always encouraged me to talk to as many people as possible. I’ve never had a jealous mentor who wants me to only call him about recovery. And that requires confidence in yourself and a thick skin—I don’t need to be the be-all, end-all sobriety expert for anybody. I think having a huge network is so valuable, because it gives you lots of voices and lots of different experiences in sobriety. For instance, if someone I work with is going through a divorce, I haven’t been divorced but maybe someone else has been. I haven’t ever been wealthy, so if you’re trying to be rich and sober, try calling someone with a newer iPhone than me.

I don’t have all the answers, and that is a beautiful thing to realize. I used to feel bummed out if I felt like I didn’t know something. But the more confidence I have in myself to say I don’t know, the better I am as a sponsor.

This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke:

The defense attorney for a woman who had got her third DWI was cross-examining the arresting officer. The plea was not guilty, and he was trying to discredit the officer’s testimony.

“Tell me, Officer, what made you think that my client was drunk?” the lawyer demanded.

“Well, for one thing,” said the trooper, “she fumbled around in the glove compartment for about five minutes looking for her car registration.”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” exclaimed the attorney. “It could easily take me ten minutes to find the registration in my glove compartment.

“She was in my car,” the officer responded.

(Credit: AA Grapevine, March 2001, Mike J. from The Woodlands, Texas)

Please spread the word to a sober friend! Find me on Substack… or Twitter… or Facebook… or Instagram… or YouTube. And introducing my web site, LOLsober.com.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit nelsonh.substack.com/subscribe