Debtors Anonymous gone mad: One member’s nightmare

2006

I had a nightmare last night. It started out great. In my dream I was having a fabulous time. I dreamed I was a newcomer with a few months of not debting, and I was making the rounds of D.A. meetings. Which one to attend today? Hmmm, should I try the Women’s Self-Debtors Self-Care Meeting, where we meet at a local beauty salon and get manicures and pedicures while we share? Or should I get serious and attend the Big Sky Spirituality Meeting where we alternate formats between astrology, palm reading, tea leaves, and a Magic 8 Ball? So many choices!

In my dream, my favorite meeting was the Friday Aromawareness Meeting, where members brought leftover body oils, perfumes, soaps, and bath salts, and talked about how the scents helped us connect with our inner overspender. All of a sudden—you know how dreams are—I found myself elbow deep in doilies at the Oldtimers’ Arts and Crafters Meeting—we tackled tough spiritual issues through treasure mapping, scrapbooking, candlemaking, and puppet shows. I knew I had blown my spending plan, but I left with a frameable poster of the D.A. Promises. I’m so worth it!

Wherever I went in my dream, I had my D.A. T-shirt, my D.A. totebag, and my D.A. coffee mug, constantly reminding me not to debt. My pockets were full of D.A. chips and coins, which reminded me of my prosperity and abundance. At home my walls were plastered with visions collages and treasure maps, my shelves were stacked with God bags, God boxes, and God cans. Because God can, right? God, I hope so.

In my dream, I was an Intergroup rep and I helped organize a “Put the Fun Back in Fundraising” Summer of Joyous Happy Freedom. We kicked off the season with a trip to the ballpark (We won, go Beavers!). Then we had cosmic bowling—those black lights are so cool. Next week we’ve got a field trip to the art museum. And next month the ultimate—wait for it: a fabulous retreat in the mountains! It’s very exclusive; hardly anyone can afford to go, but I’m on the planning committee, so I get the special rate. We’ll read the latest bestsellers on compulsive shopping, listen to guest speakers, and go horseback riding (Intergroup got us a fabulous group discount.) Of course, it’s not cheap—I may have to put a little on my card—but it’s so good for my program.

I have so much recovery! You can tell by the way I take care of myself. Whatever I want, I get, because I believe my Higher Power wants me to be happy, and happiness to me (this week) is two new end tables and a loveseat for my den. I don’t want to be one of those horrible deprivation addicts. I’ll just take a little more out of my IRA. It’s not like I’m debting—it’s my money, and I’ve got plenty of time before I need to pay it back. I deserve to be happy.

Suddenly—you know how dreams are—I found myself at a really weird D.A. meeting. I didn’t feel comfortable there from the get-go—they didn’t even have candles. They laughed when I said I was a time-space-sleep-debtor. The secretary read some bla-bla about not debting, and then the speaker shared about the Twelve Traditions. I’m not really sure what those are—I think it’s mostly an East Coast thing. Anyway, I totally didn’t get the part about Tradition 5—what was it? That a D.A. group’s primary purpose is to carry the message to the debtor who still suffers? Something about singleness of purpose. Whatever. Hey, I’m not suffering. Do I look like I’m suffering? I tried to share about the cute picture frame I made for my D.A. Promises, but you know how it is in dreams when you can’t run or talk? It was horrible, a nightmare. I showed them my freshly manicured nails and they just laughed. I invited them to join us for the art museum tour, but they laughed some more. They sure laughed a lot for a bunch of debtors. I think they were in total denial.

That’s when I woke up. Whew, thank God, back in the real world. It was only a dream. I’m still feeling a little anxious. Luckily, I live, eat,and breathe D.A. I think I’ll go to the Wellness meeting and get some guided meditation. Maybe I can get someone to give me a ride home because I’m not driving this week—I got a ticket for expired tags. Wow, I need to set up a Tension Relief Meeting. I could really use a therapeutic massage. Do you have a cell phone I could borrow? I need to call my sponsor.

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You think this is far-fetched? It’s happening now at D.A. meetings near you. We run the risk of losing sight of our program’s primary purpose, and thus our ability to serve—and perhaps save—the suffering debtor. Wake up, D.A.

Hope

2006

What is Debtors Anonymous? No, really, what is it?

2005

What is Debtors Anonymous?

My name is Hope, and I am a debtor, free of incurring unsecured debt for ten years, one day at a time, through working the Twelve Steps of D.A. I have a question for the Fellowship to consider: What is Debtors Anonymous?

Does that sound like a silly question? According to its Preamble, Debtors Anonymous claims to be a fellowship of men and women who come together to solve their common problem and recover from the disease of compulsive debting. Over the ten years I’ve been in D.A., it seems to me that D.A.’s primary purpose has evolved to encompass other behaviors in addition to compulsive debting.

For example, members identify as shopaholics, paupers, deprivation addicts, or chronic underearners. Other members identify as time debtors or self-debtors. (All these labels confused me greatly when I was a newcomer.) Some members even say they don’t have a problem with credit cards or aren’t in debt, and even though they don’t consider themselves compulsive debtors, they still keep coming back to D.A. Why? I have to wonder what they are getting from this program.

D.A.’s library of pamphlets addresses this evolution away from D.A.’s primary purpose. (Or has it contributed to it?) On my meeting’s literature table, I see a pamphlet for underearning and one for recovery from compulsive shopping. There is a pamphlet called Visions for paupers and deprivation addicts. These pamphlets are among the top sellers at my meeting. However, the issues of time debting and self-debting still seem “out of bounds” for some reason. Why? It’s impossible for a newcomer (or long-timer) to identify an “outside issue” in D.A.

If D.A.’s primary purpose is to stop debting and to help other compulsive debtors to stop debting, then anything that doesn’t focus on that primary purpose is, by definition, an outside issue. Using that guideline, compulsive shopping would be considered an outside issue. Underearning would be considered an outside issue.

Members with some time in the program understand all too well that either of these behaviors can lead to debting. But so do many other behaviors that are not addressed in the D.A. program, such as codependency and overeating. Do we need literature for the multitude of situations that can trigger debting behavior? Where should the line be drawn? And who decides?

So I ask you my question again: What is Debtors Anonymous? What do we stand for? Is D.A. trying to be all things to all people by not taking a stand on its current primary purpose (as some in D.A. have suggested)? Or is D.A. gradually (and unconsciously and unintentionally) creating a place where anyone who “has a problem with money” can find a common solution?

The first Tradition of Debtors Anonymous states, “Our common welfare comes first; personal recovery depends upon D.A. unity.” As it stands now, it seems to me that D.A.’s primary purpose is being diluted if not blatantly ignored, even in our Conference-approved literature. How unified is that?

I suppose there is a spiritual solution. What if D.A. as a whole came together to define itself under the guidance of the ultimate authority: god expressed in the group conscience of our World Service Conference?

Some obvious possibilities come to mind: D.A. could expand it primary purpose to encompass more than just compulsive debting. Or here’s another idea: D.A. could affirm its primary purpose as being only about compulsive debting. Or it could do nothing and just let it unfold as it will, which is pretty much what I see happening now.

If D.A. does nothing, what is happening now will probably continue: slow or stagnant growth; the exodus of burned out long-timers; the ebb and flow of confused newcomers who latch onto the Tools then leave without working the Steps; the lack of sponsors; the lack of members willing to do service; the tug-of-war between the terms “abstinence” and “solvency”; the general feeling that D.A. doesn’t deliver on the “promise” of prosperity.

I think D.A. needs a clear definition of debting, guided by the Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions. This is not a decision that can be made by individual groups, or Intergroups, or by the Trustees. The Fellowship must define its primary purpose. What do you think Debtors Anonymous should stand for?

Ask your General Service Representative to carry your opinion to the next World Service Conference. Your personal recovery, my personal recovery—and the survival of the next newcomer who walks in the door—may depend on it. And in the end, isn’t that all the same thing?

Thanks for listening.

Hope
2005

My two cents about the Debtors Anonymous tool of pressure relief meetings

2009/2014

My name is Hope. I am a compulsive debtor. In 2009 I wrote a share for the W&M My Two Cents column. Here it is again, with a few minor revisions.

By the grace of a higher power and the D.A. program, I have been granted relief from the compulsion to incur unsecured debt, one day at a time, since January, 1995. I have participated in more pressure relief meetings than I can count or remember. However, I have had only six pressure relief meetings (PRMs) for myself in 19 years. In 2009 I made the decision to stop having PRMs, and furthermore, I no longer give PRMs for others.

Why have I turned away from the D.A. tool of Pressure Relief Groups and Pressure Relief Meetings? For the same reason I do not support a focus on underearning, prosperity, overspending, visions, time management, or any other direction that distracts me from D.A.’s primary purpose of not incurring unsecured debt.

In recent years, I have seen DAs from all around the country choose to focus on anything but a commitment to avoid debting. In some places, they refuse to call themselves compulsive debtors—they are simply “people who want to avoid incurring unsecured debt.” In some places, they think it’s all right to use a credit card as long as they pay it off at the end of each month. In some places, people think it’s ok to borrow money as long as it is for school—an “investment” in their future. Where did they get all these ideas? From their pressure relief group.

Nineteen years ago, the first items on the PRM action plan were to cut up the credit cards, get a sponsor, and start working the Steps. Gradually the focus shifted away from not debting toward an emphasis on financial management strategies. I went along with the trend—in my ignorance I contributed to the trend—until I woke up to the realization that the spiritual focus of the PRM had been lost, that the tool had been perverted over time to be a rant-slash-cheerleading session focused solely on money, spending, earning, and recordkeeping. I would often question someone’s commitment to not debting, but rarely did I ever say to someone, “Stop debting and work the Steps or you will die.” Regular PRMs were actually acting as a distraction from not debting, and in some cases, actually offered an excuse for continued debting: I heard someone say, “My PRG told me to take care of myself, so I treated myself to flowers and a massage. Now I owe my landlord half a month’s rent.”

D.A.’s Pressure Relief Groups/Pressure Relief Meetings pamphlet states that the goal of the PRM “is to take the pressure off us and to help us to live life without incurring unsecured debt….A PRM is not a quick way to pay off debts; it is not a consumer credit service, nor are the members acting as lawyers or financial experts. It is not group therapy. The members are not acting as parents or authority figures. It is not a means of allowing us to go on debting compulsively.” How easy it is to forget!

Have you met the newcomer who comes to her first D.A. meeting already informed of the tool of pressure relief meetings, desperate to get one scheduled as soon as possible? Longtimers, flattered and wanting to be helpful (and show off their recovery), whip out their calendars and proceed to get her set up. After a couple PRMs, she is cured and disappears, only to return two years later in deeper financial chaos and ready to kill herself.

Or what about the mid- to long-timer who has regular pressure relief meetings but can’t seem to stop debting? “I’m working the program,” he says to his PRG when they question his commitment. “I have a PRM every month!” No mention of working the Steps with a sponsor, no mention of turning his will and his life over to the care of a higher power, no willingness to conduct a thorough moral inventory. No wonder he keeps debting.

Maybe you know the D.A. who expects her pressure relief group to sort through all her receipts, write out her spending categories, add up her columns, and then pat her on the back just for showing up? Month after month after month. She goes to meetings and complains that she’s feeling deprived, but when the topic is the Steps, she has nothing to say except, “I’m still on Step One.”

It is no surprise how many of us D.A.s think that money is the solution to all our problems. Debtors want something for nothing and the way we keep score is with money. No wonder it is so tempting to focus only on the money in the PRM. It seems like such a gift to be given the undivided attention of two well-meaning strangers, who listen sympathetically to our complaints of deprivation, who review our attempts at recordkeeping, who nod understandingly at our excuses, and then proceed to help us create a spending plan and an earning plan, as if more money will solve all our problems.

It’s true, it is therapeutic to be able to display the dirty red underbelly of our debting history and not be shunned or shamed. But a commitment to avoid debting must follow, if the process of recovery is to begin. As long as we focus only on changing our behavior through tools such as pressure relief meetings, our recovery is incomplete, and we place ourselves at risk of debting. Lasting recovery can only come through the spiritual process of working the Twelve Steps.

After further contemplation, I now believe that the entire premise of the pressure relief meeting triggers my debting disease—I’m talking about that sense that I’m special, that I am uniquely deserving of having the attention of two people focused on me for an hour and a half or even two hours if I can cajole them into staying longer. The self-centered egomaniac debtor in me says I deserve this attention. Dammit, I’m special! I certainly felt special in my handful of pressure relief meetings, when the focus was all on me. But focusing on me is not usually a solution to anything. I’ve now found that working the Steps with sponsors, sponsees, and co-sponsors does more to help relieve me of the bondage of self than talking about me in a pressure relief meeting. Character defects aren’t removed in pressure relief meetings.

A pressure relief meeting can be a spiritual experience. We invoke the presence of the higher power when we begin. And sometimes we actually let god stay for a while. But it’s a rare day when we don’t put money in the middle of the conversation instead of talking about how to know and do god’s will. DA is not a financial management program; DA is a spiritual program.

To be fair, I understand that spending plans, earning plans, and recordkeeping can be valuable tools to support our recovery. I have seen major life transformations come about in part from PRM action plans. I know the tool of PRMs and PRGs is mentioned in our Conference-approved literature. The idea of PRMs is so embedded in the culture of D.A., it’s hard to imagine why anyone would want to avoid them or eliminate them. And I admit that I do need to record my income and expenses, I do need to make a spending plan every month, if I am to do my part to avoid debting. Adding up my numbers can be a calming task. But that doesn’t mean God is in my spending plan. As long as I think that the path to my heart’s desire can be found only in the spending records, or the visions collage, or the action plan, or the ideal prosperity-and-abundance freedom-from-deprivation higher-powered earning plan, I will never truly surrender my will and my life to the care of any higher power other than money.

Therefore, I submit to you, working the Steps with someone is essential to our recovery; pressure relief meetings are not—in fact, if we aren’t careful, they can sometimes hamper, hinder, and harm our recovery. Debting is an insidious disease. Unlike some other compulsions which can take a person down quite decisively, debting is a sneaky foe, waiting for use to let down our guard. Without a strong and vigilant daily commitment to not debt, one day at a time, we cannot receive the daily spiritual reprieve from our compulsion. The true source of pressure relief is spiritual, not financial. Spiritual, not financial. That means a focus on the Steps, not on the Tools.

Now when someone asks me if I will do a PRM for them, I say, “No, but I’ll work the Steps with you.” Sometimes, they actually say, “OK!” And both our recoveries deepen and grow. I may change my mind later, but for now, that’s my two cents and I’m sticking to it. Thanks for letting me share.

Hope
2009/2014

My life of service in Debtors Anonymous

(Essay written in 2006)

It sometimes strikes me as hilarious that I am a Trustee on the General Service Board of D.A. I don’t feel particularly qualified or worthy of the position. I’ve been free from incurring unsecured debt for only eleven years. There are many D.A.s with many more years of recovery. I’m sure there are a multitude of D.A.s who are more spiritually evolved. Certainly I know there are many who have newer cars, bigger houses, wiser investments, and wads of cash in the bank. So, what makes me think I am worthy of being a GSB Trustee?

Here’s what I’ve figured out: All it takes is honesty, openmindedness, willingness, and good time management and organizational skills! You can do it, too.

This is some of my service story. What I hope you will come to realize is that people who choose to do service at the Board level aren’t smarter, wealthier, or more spiritually evolved than anyone else; we are just more willing than your average D.A. to immerse ourselves in the sometimes messy business of helping D.A. operate and grow.

I got my first taste of D.A. service in Southern California, where there are enough meetings to attend three a day if one needs to. So many meetings means a thriving Intergroup, and that’s where I found myself: sitting on the periphery of an Intergroup meeting. I was shy and terrified, completely out of my comfort zone. I couldn’t bring myself to speak, but I listened and took notes, dreading in advance my group’s business meeting. I was too scared to give a verbal report, but I diligently published a concise, spell-checked paragraph about issues I didn’t understand, and left it on the literature table.

I learned that if you hang around as an Intergroup rep for very long, people start to know your name. When that happens, you can expect to be elected to an Intergroup position. In Southern California at that time, Intergroup was large enough to have a Service Board, and so I found myself on the Service Board as a workshop coordinator. I was way over my head, and I knew it, but something inside me knew that I needed D.A. more than D.A. needed me. So I said ok.

They say recovery begins when we stop debting. I believe my recovery in D.A. moved to a new level when I learned to say “yes” to service. Keeping my records, not using credit cards—for me, those weren’t the challenges. For me, the hardest part has always been—and still is—connecting to my fellows. I had felt apart, alone, “terminally unique” for so long; doing service meant I was constantly being challenged to interact with others. It was a painful, exciting, growing time, the heady early days of service. I wasn’t in D.A. to make friends, but somehow I did anyway. I began to feel part of something bigger than myself, something that had meaning and purpose.

Through this time I worked the Steps with a sponsor, and as is sometimes the case, things changed fast—and not in a pleasant way. My relationship fell apart, I couldn’t seem to find a job or a place to live, and in despair, I moved to Portland to figure things out. Portland struggles to maintain five D.A. groups. I found one I felt relatively comfortable with, and once I got over my tendency to say, “Well, in California, they do it like this!” the group elected me as their GSR. I felt like I was getting on a roller coaster, not a very comfortable feeling.

My first World Service Conference was across the country, in Craigville, Massachusetts, a little town way out on the end of Cape Cod. GSRs from everywhere came to a rustic retreat center to conduct the business of D.A. It was mid October, and frosty cold; we slept five to a room. Being vegetarian, I lived on hummus and pita bread for the week, while the others put on bibs and ate lobster. I joined the Literature Committee, and met D.A.s from all over the country. I met a skunk, too, one night as I was walking back from the dining hall. I didn’t meet any Trustees, though; on the podium, they looked elegantly inaccessible, intimidating, and overdressed. The Convocation—the assembly where the delegates make motions and vote—was chaotic and confusing, and happened to be held in a rustic church with wooden pews. I saw the sun rise over the Atlantic Ocean. The entire experience was magical.

I traveled to Albuquerque in 2000, and again joined the Literature Committee, where I presented the piece that my subcommittee had worked on during the year. When I saw people I remembered from the previous Conference, I felt glad, like we were family, and they remembered me. I felt like my presence made a difference. I was asked to be a member of the now disbanded Editorial Board of the Literature Committee, a small group that reviewed literature projects and recommended them to the General Service Board for approval. I witnessed the final revisions of the D.A. Promises, sitting in the sunshine by a huge window. Outside it was 95 degrees and hot air balloons floated down a green river valley.

For my third year as a GSR, the Conference gathered in Baltimore at a maritime academy. We shared the cafeteria with young cadets in uniforms. The towels were awesome. Again, I returned to the Literature Committee, ready to report on Editorial Board activities. To my surprise and intense discomfort, I was elected committee chair. With the help of three GSB liaisons, I fumbled my way through the committee meetings, and managed not to faint when it came time to give a report to the Convocation. I was particularly proud of my written report, which I hoped would make up for all the things I would have said if I hadn’t been petrified with fear.

Somewhere along the way, my perception of D.A. shifted: I started thinking beyond my local group and Intergroup, and began to see D.A. as a whole. I learned that the delegates’ responsibility to their groups continues during the year as they work on the action plans they created in their committees. I spoke with new GSRs attending their first Convocation and remembered my own fear, confusion, eagerness, and excitement. I saw how some delegates returned the following year, and how most did not. I felt like I was witnessing a grand, slow ballet. For the first time, I began to trust the committee process instead of allowing it to frustrate me.

Partway during that year, I was asked if I wanted to submit my name to be considered for General Service Board Trustee. By that time I knew two or three Trustees, so I was no longer intimidated, but I didn’t feel like I had enough years of recovery to serve at that level. I gave it some thought and decided to follow my personal service motto: When the finger of service points my way, say “yes.” I submitted a service resume. Some weeks later some Trustees called me and gently probed to see if I had a clue about what I was getting into. I didn’t, but I said I was willing to let Higher Power direct the outcome. And so I was elected to the GSB and began my first 3-year term when I was ratified in New York at the 2002 Conference.

I am coming to the end of my fourth year as a Trustee. I think I’m just now beginning to get a grasp on the dynamic and fluid relationships between the GSB Trustees, the General Service Office, the Conference, the committees of the Conference, and the groups. Most days I feel bogged down in the day-to-day details of trying to get things done, but every once in awhile, like when I write a share about my life in D.A. service, I set aside the action plans, and ask God for a wider perspective, a bigger picture of what D.A. is now, what it is becoming, what it could someday be. Then I am rewarded with a view of my own small part in the grand, slow ballet of D.A.

My recovery had deepened and broadened in ways I never would have thought possible even a few years ago. My attitude is more likely to be serenity than frustration these days. I strive daily to understand what it means to be a servant leader. Every day I have a chance to connect through service to a Higher Power of my understanding.

I try to do service without any expectations. I have hopes, but I try to steer clear of making my happiness contingent on achieving a certain outcome. I don’t always succeed. Usually it’s after I don’t get my way that I realize how attached I was to a particular agenda. Service is humbling. Service is ripe with opportunities to practice humility. A D.A. friend once said, “Service is the pit that sucks you dry.” I laugh whenever I find myself saying it, because it is true that doing service can suck the life out of you if you have an expectation of a specific outcome. Service is an opportunity to practice surrendering all outcomes to God.

Service in D.A. is practical. I learned communication skills by speaking at D.A. workshops; that experience qualified me for the job I enjoy today. Every day I hone my organizational skills. Sometimes I actually accomplish things. I am learning when to speak and when to keep my mouth shut. If those aren’t practical skills, then I’m not a debtor.

I am perplexed by D.A. members who say they are taking a “service moratorium,” or doing 90 days of “task abstinence.” I don’t think I would have survived if it hadn’t been for service. Nothing kept me coming back to D.A. except my service commitments. Nothing keeps me connected to D.A. except the service I do today. My recovery depends on my willingness to do service. Even if I totally flub things up, even if I’m not perfect, I still need to show up and offer what service I can, “to live usefully and walk humbly under the grace of God.”

I was told early in D.A. to remember to pass it on if I want to keep what I’ve been given. I like the life D.A. has given me. I do service for me, not for you, because I I can’t keep my recovery unless I give away what I’ve learned to others. If it helps you and D.A., wow, that’s wonderful. But I never forget, I need you all a lot more than you need me.

I expect to rotate off the Board at the end of my sixth year. Would you like to be the one to take my place? I’d be honored to pass the service baton on to you.

Thanks for letting me share.

Hope Newlyfound

2006