outgrowing what once saved you

I speak a lot about how my social circle has gotten smaller over the past few years. I think one of the main reasons is that I’ve become more selective with how I spend my time, and more intentional about what I choose to stay connected to.

It didn’t happen all at once. It started slowly with certain friendships where I realized I was overriding my own instincts, staying in conversations longer than I wanted to or ignoring that subtle feeling that something just wasn’t quite right. And since getting sober, even some of the spaces that once helped me just don’t feel like they fit anymore.

It’s like trying to force a square peg into a round hole. Wanting to feel the same way you did when you first found something, even when it no longer works. What I’ve had to learn is that just because something helped you at one point doesn’t mean it’s meant to hold you forever.

The biggest shift for me was Alcoholics Anonymous. I credit it with helping me get sober and teaching me about alcoholism. I didn’t go to rehab, and I didn’t have anyone close to me who was an alcoholic, so AA felt like the best option I had.

But about a year in, something started to feel off.

I stopped trusting myself. I found myself in situations that crossed my boundaries. Everything started to revolve around alcohol, what we talked about, how we related to each other. And when I started questioning parts of the philosophy I didn’t agree with, I was told it was “my disease talking,” and that it meant I needed the program more than ever.

Even after recognizing that, it still took me another six months to leave. I carried a lot of guilt, like I owed this program my loyalty for the rest of my life because it helped me get sober. There was also a fear the program had instilled in me that if I left, I would relapse.

So I questioned myself. I judged myself. I convinced myself I was the problem.

Until I couldn’t anymore.

And I think that’s what a lot of systems do.

You are taught to trust them over yourself. To override your instincts in order to be more agreeable, more compliant, more open. And the moment you step out of line, you are questioned.

And eventually, you stop asking, Is this right for me?

And start asking, What’s wrong with me?

I even saw this play out with a therapist I was considering working with last year. She told me she wouldn’t take me on as a client unless I rejoined AA, and that I tend to quit things when they get hard. And while there may be some truth in that, it completely disregarded why I left the program in the first place.

Instead, it became about me. I’m the problem. I’m the quitter. The program isn’t wrong, I’m just not committed enough.

That’s a pretty dark place to land.

Looking back, I sometimes wonder how I got so pulled into certain spaces. But I don’t think it’s that simple. I think, over time, these groups can teach you to distrust your own instincts.

In AA, if you questioned the program or wanted to leave, the response was often that the issue was you. You were “triggered.” You “didn’t want to hear the truth.” And while that can be true sometimes, I had to learn how to trust my own discernment and tell the difference between avoidance and something that truly didn’t feel right.

“Brainwashing” is a strong word, but sometimes it feels uncomfortably close. Not always intentionally. But when questioning something is framed as failure or danger, it changes how you relate to your own thoughts.

And while it worked for others, and for me at the time, I knew it no longer fit who I was becoming. I believe two things can be true at once. Joining AA in September 2022 was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. Leaving in February 2024 was just as important.

It might sound like the biggest contradiction in the world. But it’s my truth, and I’ve realized that’s all that matters.

And maybe growth is realizing that something can be exactly what you needed at one point and still not belong in the next chapter.

While AA and programs like it often make things feel all or nothing, I don’t think it has to be.

Sometimes growth is just the moment you step into your autonomy and say:

This no longer works for me.

And for the first time, it didn’t feel pointed. It didn’t feel like I had anything to prove. It just felt… honest.

You know yourself better than anyone.

Act accordingly.