Memoirs appeal to me because I believe in the value of shared experiences. It’s one of the ways we can help one another.  To that end, I love a good recovery story, and Charlie Sheen’s memoir, The Book of Sheen, is what inspired me to write this post. While I appreciate his writing style, his candor, and his humor, there are some things he said that I’ve heard before and would like to address.

He mocked The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous, referring to it as a medieval book. He also called AA sponsors “morons” and the people in rehab “lunatics.”

Now, if this had been said by his character, Charlie Harper, during an episode of Two and A Half Men, I would have laughed. And even though, it’s real Charlie talking, I’m not offended. For all I know, he’s simply joking about how he perceived things while on the road to recovery. I’m not mad either way, but I do want to offer my perspective.

Monolithic thinking is a constant problem in this world. People are so ready to paint everything with a broad brush, including those who say they oppose bigotry. This kind of thinking isn’t helping anyone. It never does. Most groups are diverse. Their members are flexible to varying degrees. That includes fellowships, organizations, races, religions, ethnicities, genders, etc. Of course, if an individual uses their belief system to harm others or supports those who do, that’s different. Otherwise, I’m not going to fault people for adhering to whatever belief system holds them together. Life is hard enough as it is.

That said, I understand Charlie’s discomfort with certain aspects of AA.

He wrote about the meetings where everyone “robotically” says “Hi (insert your name here)” in unison after you introduce yourself. I get it. It can feel strange, especially for someone new to recovery who is filled with fear and plagued by social anxiety.

He also didn’t like being asked to share, which is normal at first, maybe for a long time. I’m sure some people never enjoy it.

He scoffed at the members holding hands to pray, and I can relate to that. I felt that way even when I went to church back in the day, and it came time to turn around and offer one another the sign of peace while shaking hands.

For me, it’s not the praying. It’s not the holding or shaking hands. And it certainly isn’t offering peace to others—that’s beautiful. But there’s a pressure I’d feel when those moments were about to happen in a group setting. It was the anticipation of that moment because while I was actually holding hands in an AA meeting or shaking hands in church, I was fine. It’s the same feeling you get before it’s your turn to share or speak. People who know me well wouldn’t think chatting could ever make me nervous. So, what I described here could have some link to social anxiety, maybe the fear of how people will respond—that is, if they respond at all and don’t leave you hanging. I don’t know. Whatever it is, I hate it, too.

Moving on from Charlie, I have never liked that the meetings felt like a pick-up bar without the bar, especially if you seemed to be new. But as someone once told me, people may be sober, but they are still human. You have to adhere to the rules, heed advice. You need boundaries. Those things can be difficult for newcomers. It’s why they tell women to stick with the women and men to stick with the men—at least until you get your bearings.

Sometimes, too, when people share, you hear things you can’t get on board with and you want to yell, “WHAT??!!” Maybe what they said is absurd, or you tell yourself, I can’t sit here and listen to this. But that’s why they advise you to “Keep what’s worth keeping.” There’s a quote by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik that says: Keep what is worth keeping and then, with a breath of kindness, blow the rest away. The breath of kindness may not always be possible, but restraint will often do.

Besides, you will hear good stuff, as well. A lot of good stuff.

So, let me say this: Of course, people can quit drinking and using drugs without AA or NA. If someone realizes they need to abstain from something because the addiction has made their life unmanageable, they can do it however they want. But if they want the emotional sobriety that their addiction has taken away from them, they need to work on themselves, if not through a twelve-step program, then some other way.

I can just hear my old boss shouting, “I drink, but I hate those goddamn programs.” Well, if addiction to one thing or another isn’t wreaking havoc in your life, then none of this applies to you.

But I’m going to defend twelve-step programs here because the creators of these programs truly understood the disease and the character defects an addict needs to work on. Oh, and that “medieval book” continues to offer so much wisdom. This is a program that provides you with a better design for living that includes responsibility, accountability, honesty, a downsized ego, an effective interdependence, and more.

You see, a lot of what we don’t like when we arrive is exactly what gets us where we need to be. We are broken when we finally seek recovery. For some, it’s the first time they feel they belong somewhere and have people they can relate to or who can relate to them. Sharing and speaking helps them overcome their social anxiety or get some control over it. Over time, their confidence will increase, and they will feel better about themselves, rather than unworthy or less than. Of course, that’s the case because drinking and drugging makes you feel less inhibited. They help you feel more comfortable—that is until they don’t, or they get you in precarious situations.

So, even if you quit meetings because you hate them, you can keep working the program or simply work on YOU.

I’ll be celebrating 30 years of being sober and drug free on January 17, 2026, and I have to say, it’s beautiful to watch people grow and evolve in sobriety. We learn how to be of service. Many find the courage to face their traumas and demons and begin to heal in ways they never thought possible. Through all of that comes clarity, gratitude, and much, much more.

So, please don’t knock what has worked for so many people, what has saved countless lives. Look around at what’s happening everywhere. We could use more people who are grounded in emotional sobriety.