When AA Turned Its Back on Me: A Story of Stigma, Silence, and the Sh*t No One Talks About

Author of the Month

March 23, 2026

John Makohen, Author

Tom O'Connor, Publisher

Introduction

Alcoholics Anonymous faces challenges in remaining relevant as secular programs continue to gain momentum. Leaving AA is a growing trend. AA membership is declining, peaking in 1992 and then dropping, a trend attributed to changing cultural views, particularly around spirituality, as well as the rise of secular alternatives, such as LifeRing, SMART Recovery, and professional treatment. The demographic of younger adults and women is increasingly less represented in AA, while more people are choosing treatment or secular programs. 

AA Helped Me — Until It Didn't

What Happens When Alcohol Isn't the Only Problem

Let me tell you something that still hurts to say out loud. I found a home group at AA. I showed up. I did what I was supposed to do. I made coffee, shared honestly, and laughed with people I thought understood. For six months, I built something that seemed like trust. I started to feel like I belonged.

Then I told them the truth. I told them I was a heroin addict. I told them I was still on methadone—and just like that — radio silence. The hugs stopped. The head nods vanished. People who once shared their deepest regrets with me suddenly acted as if I were contagious. Like I didn't belong. Like I had crossed some invisible line and was now on the outside, looking in.

Here's the thing — I didn't walk into that room high. I wasn't trying to push methadone on anyone. I was just trying to stay alive. Methadone saved me from crawling through the street for a bag every morning. It gave me a chance to think clearly, eat regularly, and finally get some sleep without waking up to my muscles screaming.

But to them? I was using it. Period. End of story.

AA's Alcohol-Only Lens Is Blinding

AA is, quite simply, Alcoholics Anonymous. That's the foundation. I understand. But the truth is, addiction doesn't come in clearly labeled boxes. My illness doesn't care whether my drug of choice was Jack Daniels or China White. Addiction is addiction. And recovery? It's messy, non-linear, and personal.

But when you focus the entire group on alcohol and ignore the broader shared experience of addiction, you foster division and create "us" and "them." And guess what? If you're in the "them" category, you're disposable.

So when I shared my whole truth, I broke some unspoken rule. Six months of showing up, staying clean, and supporting others go out the window if you don't check the correct substance box.

With AA, it allows religion and blindly following their twelve spiritual steps. It didn't work for me because I don't feel like we're powerless over our addictions. Spirituality and religion are all fine and good for a lot of people in a lot of ways, but they really have nothing to do with whether you stick a crack pipe in your mouth or suck a drink down your throat. ~ VVB Community Member

The Drug User Stereotype Runs Deep

A room full of people who've hit bottom would know better than to stereotype someone else. But that's precisely what happened.

Once I said "heroin" and "methadone," I could feel the shift. Eyes stopped meeting mine. The vibe went from warm to clinical as if I were some wild card, some unpredictable addict who didn't belong.

There's this idea floating around in those rooms that people who use more complex stuff are less committed to recovery. Or that we're dangerous. Or unstable. And let's be real — some of us have been all those things. But so do a lot of alcoholics.

The real issue is this: once you start drawing those lines, you stop seeing the human in front of you. And that's where the damage begins.

"You're Not Sober"

This one's my favorite. Because methadone equals not sober, right?

Never mind science. Never mind the decades of research showing methadone is one of the most effective treatments for opioid use disorder. Forget that it's prescribed by a doctor and dispensed by a clinic. If you're on it, you're "still using." That's the belief.

Let me ask you something: would you tell a person with diabetes they're not healthy because they're on insulin?

Methadone kept me from relapsing — until it didn't. Not because it stopped working. But because the people I thought were in my corner slowly backed away. Because the shame crept in. Because I felt like I had to defend my recovery every damn day. And eventually, I stopped defending it.

I relapsed. I went back to heroin. I lost housing. Again. And the spiral was brutal.

You can argue that's on me — and maybe it is. But I also know this: I would've had a better shot if I weren't carrying the weight of being othered in a space that claims to welcome anyone seeking recovery.

READ: From Heroin To Harm Reduction also by John Makohen

This Isn't An AA Takedown.

I'm not here to trash AA. It's helped a lot of people. Hell, it helped me — for a while. But if we can't talk honestly about the gaps, the blind spots, and the harm? Then we're just keeping secrets. And that's what addiction thrives on — silence and shame.

AA talks about "principles before personalities," about honesty and acceptance. But when someone shows up with a different path — methadone, Suboxone, whatever — and you reject them? That's not recovery. That's elitism.

And it costs lives.

So What Now?

If you're in recovery, check yourself. Are you welcoming people into your Circle, or are you gatekeeping sobriety based on your definition? If you're someone like me — kicked out, pushed out, or just never fit the mold — I see you. You are not a failure. Your story matters. Your recovery counts. You don't need to follow someone else's program to get well. You need honesty, support, and a space where you can be open and honest without fear of judgment.

There are plenty of alternatives to AA available. Don't be shunned into silence.

Your recovery is unique to you.

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John Makohen, CASAC Advanced, RCP, also authored two influential books: A Heroin User's Guide to Harm Reduction: Staying Alive in the Age of Fentanyl and Xylazine and Resilience: Building Strength in Early Recovery. The first is a bold, honest survival manual for people who use drugs in today's overdose crisis. The second book is a straightforward guide with practical strategies for building strength and confidence during early recovery.

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