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I was at a meeting the other day where we read Step Six, which deals with character defects. There is a section where the authors tick off a bunch of examples of character defects, and I found myself nodding along because I am guilty of that one, and that one, and yep, that one, too… As usual, the people who wrote our literature 75 years ago were exactly like me.

One in particular jumped out at me because it showed me a broader point. There were a few lines about gossip and character assassination, and how many of us like to speak ill of others or at least spread information about others.

I’ve always been guilty of it, though I do think my brand of gossiping is often not mean-spirited. It’s always center-of-attention stuff. I’ll catch myself saying, “Did you hear about Biff? He got demoted,” or, “Have you seen Heather at meetings? I heard she told her sponsor she didn’t think she was an alcoholic any more.”

Luckily, I stopped the sobriety gossip completely. I’ve heard a few good speakers share over the years about everything that should fall under the anonymity umbrella, and it’s more than just not knowing your last name. Today, I believe wholeheartedly in the idea that I can say I was at a meeting… but I can’t say you were at one. That’s a tricky topic that not everybody agrees on, so I will circle back in another entry some time in the near future.

So I try not to ever talk about other people from recovery. In real life… I am not nearly as successful at curtailing it. The truth is, gossip is intoxicating. I always feel like I know stuff, that I am valuable, that I am trustworthy (even though passing along information is in and of itself not trustworthy). Gossip is one of those addictive behaviors that won’t kill you. But does it cause occasional pain? Sure, and it definitely gives me a hangover feeling two hours later when I wonder, “Why can’t I just shut up and mind my own business?”

The other thing mentioned in Step Six is character assassination, which is something I catch myself doing on a regular basis. I still think deep down that if I tear you down, it will lift me up. I’m not someone who says a lot of mean things directly to people… but definitely take swipes at them by talking to other people, especially people who might feel the same as me. Nothing beats a slow Tuesday afternoon where you are feeling a little down, then you start a s**t-talking swarm about some poor guy who probably did nothing wrong.

Here’s the entire point of this entry: As I read Step Six the other night and it listed some of those bad behaviors, I realized that I don’t do the gossip/character assassination with sober people. I don’t say any of those things when I am around recovery friends. Why not?

First of all, I think it certainly indicates I have a valve that I am turning off and on when I speak to certain people, which indicates I have more ability to stop doing it than I like to think.

Secondly, I think it’s an affirmation of what sober people stand for. I can remember a few times where I drifted into bad-mouthing family members or coworkers with sober people, and they just had no time for that. I don’t remember anybody telling me to shut the f— up but I also don’t remember anybody saying, “Keep going, I want to hear more about this a*****e.” They just aren’t interested. They ask things like, “OK, but what was your role in that?” Or, “What’s the exact nature of your resentment?” Or, “Have you thought about what it’s like to be in their shoes?”

That can be a little exhausting. I do believe in the idea that sometimes people just need to vent. But that’s also usually an excuse I use to be able to keep going on a bad behavior.

I’ll be thinking about that reading for awhile, and what it proves: Which is that I can do a helluva better job of just shutting up.

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:

Early one morning, two drunks stood on a street corner arguing about whether it was the sun or the moon that was shining down on them. Just then, another lush came along, and they ask him to settle the argument.

"How should I know?" he answered. "I don't even live around here."

(Credit: Grapevine, by Sam M. of California, June 2005)

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