When it comes to recovery, AA isn’t the only way—it’s not even the most common way.
By Joe Schrank — 28 Years Sober, Not Dead, and Still Showing Up
Let me tell you a secret, and this might sting if you’re clutching your Big Book like a security blanket: most people in recovery are not in AA. I know. I’ve been sitting in musty church basements since before Monica Lewinsky went to prom, so I get it. I owe AA a lot. I got sober there—and more importantly, I got a life. The 12-step roadmap, the peers I made, the mentors I was lucky to have—those things helped me build something solid and meaningful. Not just sobriety, but sustainability. A life with purpose, direction, and fewer mornings waking up in jail or next to someone I had to block immediately. The principles I developed in AA helped me steward my son—adopted from Kenya and orphaned by the HIV crisis—into becoming a physician. From trauma to healing, from abandonment to a white coat and stethoscope. That’s the ripple effect of AA.
But here’s the truth: AA is not the whole story. Hell, it’s not even the first paragraph anymore.
The Numbers Game (aka Let’s Talk Math Before Coffee Kicks In)
According to the National Recovery Survey and other credible sources, roughly 20 to 22 million Americans consider themselves to be “in recovery.” That’s a real number. Bigger than the population of Florida. Which, coincidentally, is also a state that could use a few more mental health resources, but I digress.
Now, take a wild guess how many of those 20-something million are in Alcoholics Anonymous? Around 2 million. Yep. That’s it. Two million people worldwide are holding hands and reciting the Serenity Prayer, and about 75% of them are in the U.S. or Canada.
So, for those keeping score at home, about 90% of people in recovery don’t go to AA. That’s not a rounding error. That’s a landslide.
So Where Are the Other 18 Million People?
They’re everywhere. They’re in therapy, they’re doing SMART Recovery, they’re working with coaches, they’re using medication, they’re leaning into their faith, or their dogs, or CrossFit. Some of them just stopped using and moved on with their lives, which for the record, is totally valid. Recovery isn’t a gated community guarded by the ghost of Bill W.
The idea that the only path to redemption is through 12 steps, a resentment list, and whatever Sharon has to say at the Wednesday night meeting is… well, let’s just say misguided.
The Cult of One-Size-Fits-All
AA works for some. It worked for me. But let’s not pretend it’s the universal remote for addiction. The program was built in the 1930s by white Protestant men who chain-smoked and wore fedoras to breakfast. It reflects that time. It’s spiritual but not religious, except when it is. It’s free, but it costs your time, your Thursday nights, and sometimes your sanity.
AA also loves the bootstrap narrative: “You just weren’t willing.” That’s convenient. That way, if the program doesn’t work for you, you failed, not the program. That’s like blaming the patient for dying on the operating table and saying, “Well, he just didn’t believe in surgery hard enough.”
One of the industry’s dirty secrets is its ability to deflect responsibility under the guise of “you weren’t ready.” That kind of gaslighting is more common than caffeine at a speaker meeting.
Recovery Is Bigger Than a Folding Chair
If you’re in recovery, congratulations. However you got here—great. If you’re sober through AA, rock on. If you use Suboxone, therapy, journaling, CrossFit, psilocybin, prayer, harm reduction, or sheer willpower—also great. There’s room for all of it.
Recovery is not a cult. It’s not a uniform. It’s a spectrum. A process. A long, winding road with a lot of detours, and sometimes a pit stop at In-N-Out because you’re feeling sad and hungry.
What recovery isn’t? A contest. A purity test. A forced march to the same meeting forever because that’s what some crusty dude with a 1993 sobriety date told you is the only way.
Final Thought from a Grizzled Old-Timer (Me)
Look, I’m still in AA. I still go to meetings. But I don’t pretend it’s a magic spell that works for everyone. What AA gave me was a foundation. What kept me going was curiosity, community, and a willingness to change. I’ve evolved, and so has my recovery.
So let’s stop gatekeeping. Let’s stop acting like AA is the only lifeboat and everyone else is just treading water. The numbers don’t lie: most people in recovery are doing something else—and it’s working just fine.
If you want help figuring out what might work for you, I offer a free discovery session to see if we’re a match to work together. It might be AA. It might not. What matters is that it fits.