Neurodivergents Anonymous

Are all addicts neurodivergent? Or is addiction just a similar experience to being masked?

Me wanging on about one of my many theories in a field in Derbyshire.

I’ve tried being diplomatic. I’ve tried saying “some of us” and “in my experience” and “I wonder if” and all the other things that make people feel comfy when I make a wild claim.

But I can't hold it in anymore! I’m saying it.

I think everyone in AA is neurodivergent.

I'm sorry! I can’t help it. Maybe it’s my tendency for black and white thinking, but hear me out…

The scripts. The rituals. The laminated guidelines. Who else could return three times a week, week after week to hear the same readings and shares?

Don't get me wrong, I love AA.

At best, it’s kind like a drinking-themed alcohol-free version of The Moth. I have heard profound stories, and been transformed by attendance and sponsorship and friendship. I have a kid with an AAer. We are some of the best.

But also, I have been astonished that AA continues to exist. It’s the strangest, weirdest, most wonderful organisation. And only a crew of thoroughly obsessive neurodivergent weirdies could keep it running for this long.

Only those who know the deep, aching confusion of being human and not understanding how to behave in society could create such a refuge. To escape an unbearable reality through booze and then create an escape from that escape in the form of AA.

Just, wow.

And for it to continue. For this long?

Of course, another reason AA has lasted, is that addiction continues to destroy lives. And those who escape its clutches are rightly motivated to help others escape. It’s an effective and meaningful pyramid scheme-style model that is extremely effective.

I’m planning to return to meetings, if I can just wrangle myself to get there as I miss the relief feelings of being around others who admit they don’t know what the feck is going on. That their whole life is a bodge job and they have no clue how to manage it.

AA always gives me a sense of perspective. Something I can struggle with, by myself.

But every time I go, everyone just sounds Autistic and ADHD to me. And it is increasingly clear to me that AA has been such a haven for me because of my neurodivergence, particularly the ‘tism.

Always unsure when it’s your turn to talk? Don’t worry! We have strict rules about this here.

Struggle not to interrupt? (Yes, very much, ordinarily.) Well, we have strict rules about that too. It’s literally banned. Show up drunk, sure, but DO NOT interrupt someone who’s sharing.

Perfect for ALL THE AUTISTIC monologuers in the room!

Yes, my friends, you never need improvise again!

(Apart from the terrifying minutes before and after meetings. But even then, there’s a theme and a purpose (help the newcomer) so you’ve got GUIDELINES. You’ll be FINE.

And if not, you can always do as I still often do: arrive and leave with only minutes to spare to avoid social awkwardness.)

We don’t call it masking - we call it “being of service.”

And we don’t call it burnout - we call it a “rock bottom.”

So if you can’t tell how you feel unless someone else tells a story and it hits you right in the guts and suddenly you’re crying and don’t know why, don’t worry.

Me too.

Welcome.

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I’m not saying AA is bad. It taught me how to enjoy my life and risk vulnerability and admit what I wanted and look forward to the future.

But maybe what so many of us recognise in those rooms - the feeling of coming home or ‘finding your tribe’ (I don’t like tribes, fwiw) that people talk about - is about more than sobriety/freedom from addiction. Maybe it’s about finally getting some concrete guidance.

One of the key findings of researching and writing my book has been realising that the experience of being actively addicted and the experience of being deeply masked can look and feel eerily similar. This has come from reading the work of Dr

Devon

Price - particularly Unmasking Autism, which I can’t recommend enough - and having an email conversation with him, too.

I can’t wait to share it in more detail with you all. Pre-orders will be available soon, and I just sent the manuscript to my wonderful editor.¹ 🎉 🎉 🎉

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Recovery from addiction seems to be a long, slow, awkward process of unmasking. Beginning with removing the ultimate mask: alcohol.

So maybe AA’s appeal is due to finally being somewhere the mask can drop. Without the safety net of booze to unmask with, maybe we need a new safety net. And AA provides it.

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There is also the fact that trauma can leave an impact that looks the same as neurodivergence. Autism and ADHD, particularly, I believe…

What do you think? Am I talking absolute nonsense? Or am I onto something? Tell me the truth, but be kind. I have severe RSD over here.

Maybe not everyone in AA is neurodivergent or traumatised to the extent of seeming (even being, via a different route) neurodivergent. But the experience of being in addiction is so similar to being masked neurodivergent that they might as well be.

Black and white thinking? Check!

Narrow interests? Check!

Difficulty in relationships? Check!

Challenges with recognising, understanding and articulating your feelings? Check! Check! Check!

Low self-esteem? Check!

Inexplicably mixed with a superiority complex? Check!

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But then, also… And this is a real concern. What even is neurotypical?

Whenever I write the word I go into an absolute tailspin about what it even means.

Do neurotypicals really exist?

I’m not sure I’ve ever met one…

I'm not saying everyone in the world is a little bit on the spectrum (though it sometimes feels like that round my way.) But might we be looking at a spectrum rather as though it is a binary?

AGAIN.

Will neurodiversity continue to expand to include everyone like the LGBTQIA+ movement did?

And if everyone in AA isn't neurodivergent but active addiction presents so similarly to neurodivergence that they might as well be, then that is even more reason for an organisation like AA to signpost services for neurodivergence. Such that they are.

This is my new mission, by the way. To get these pamphlets made and included at meetings.

So welcome to Neurodivergents Anonymous.

Bring the feelings you don’t understand and the stories that help strangers almost feel them.

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📚 Chelsey Flood is the author of award-winning novels Infinite Sky and Nightwanderers, and a senior lecturer in creative writing at UWE. She is currently working on a book for Jessica Kingsley Publishers about the connection between undiagnosed neurodiversity and addiction + her first domestic noir. 📚

1. Also, talking to Dr Felicity Sedgewick about her thoughts on masking and where alcohol fits into the picture. Her book, Autism and Masking, written with Dr Laura Hull and Helen Ellis, has also been incredibly influential as I wrote my book.

Talking to Professor Tony Attwood has shaped my thinking, too. I'll share more on this in future posts.