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I went to a meeting the other day where the topic ended up being about sponsorship, and how to know when you’re ready to be a great sponsor. Pretty much everybody said what I have come to believe, which is that becoming a great sponsor really isn’t what you’d think. It’s not a degree that you earn, or a black belt that a sensei gives to you after years of training.
That’s because my view of sponsorship in a 12-step program isn’t really about talent or knowledge or even sober time. I do think you want to know the program and believe in it. I also think that the general guidance that you should have a year or more of recovery under your belt is a wise suggestion.
But my version of being a good sponsor is walking the walk, and talking about the walk. That’s it.
I used to get so uptight about being a good sponsor, about needing to have wisdom to pass along, about being nice but direct with sponsees, about always knowing the right thing to say, about never saying the wrong thing that would make someone go back out and drink. But that was overrating what I have come to believe a sponsor is for. I don’t think I need to be some amazing guru who life-coaches you into getting or staying sober. I think I have worked a good recovery program for 16-plus years and I can tell you how I did it. That’s about it.
That’s probably why I struggled so much early on in recovery. I think I was a good sponsor to the first few guys I sponsored. But I definitely think I invested too much of my own sobriety into theirs, and I think I took it way too hard when a few of the guys went back out. Could I have been a better sponsor? Maybe. But in my experience, I think it’s pretty rare that a not-so-great sponsor causes somebody to relapse. As we often say in the rooms, if somebody wants to drink, I probably can’t say anything to make them stop. And if somebody really wants to be sober, I probably can’t say anything to make them want to start drinking.
I used the word “confidence” in the title here because I do think I need to be confident in myself and my program in order to be a good sponsor. Confidence isn’t arrogance, though—I think humility is an essential part of being a solid sponsor. I don’t really want a sponsor who thinks he has all the answers, or talks down to me in a way that I find insulting. I’m not looking to have a drill sergeant as my sponsor, you know?
One other thing that I think relates to confidence as a sponsor… my mentors in sobriety have always encouraged me to talk to as many people as possible. I’ve never had a jealous mentor who wants me to only call him about recovery. And that requires confidence in yourself and a thick skin—I don’t need to be the be-all, end-all sobriety expert for anybody. I think having a huge network is so valuable, because it gives you lots of voices and lots of different experiences in sobriety. For instance, if someone I work with is going through a divorce, I haven’t been divorced but maybe someone else has been. I haven’t ever been wealthy, so if you’re trying to be rich and sober, try calling someone with a newer iPhone than me.
I don’t have all the answers, and that is a beautiful thing to realize. I used to feel bummed out if I felt like I didn’t know something. But the more confidence I have in myself to say I don’t know, the better I am as a sponsor.
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:
The defense attorney for a woman who had got her third DWI was cross-examining the arresting officer. The plea was not guilty, and he was trying to discredit the officer’s testimony.
“Tell me, Officer, what made you think that my client was drunk?” the lawyer demanded.
“Well, for one thing,” said the trooper, “she fumbled around in the glove compartment for about five minutes looking for her car registration.”
“That doesn’t prove anything,” exclaimed the attorney. “It could easily take me ten minutes to find the registration in my glove compartment.
“She was in my car,” the officer responded.
(Credit: AA Grapevine, March 2001, Mike J. from The Woodlands, Texas)
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