Beyond AA: From Depressed Alcoholic to Mushroom Microdoser
Alcoholics Anonymous saved me when I was a drunk, but now that I’ve benefited from consciously using plant medicine and drugs, do I still belong in AA—and am I still “sober”?
From AA to Microdosing
By Tyler H.
“I’ve been sober for about six years,” I lie for the thousandth time. It may not sound like it, but sobriety is one of the cornerstones of my life.
I rarely go to AA meetings anymore, and when someone asks me to speak at one, I tend to decline. It’s the same on the rare occasion when I get asked to sponsor someone in the program or commit to a local group for any kind of service commitment. When I meet other people who are in “the program” out in the wild, I fumble through all the normal back and forth about time in the program, when you got sober, where the best local meetings are, trying my best not to outright lie, but mostly just not wanting to get into it.
Most recently, I awkwardly found myself preaching the merits of sobriety to a struggling friend who had just acquired some ketamine for the two of us. It’s more dissonance than hypocrisy, I hope. As I venture out into the world, it’s incredibly important to me that I have a sober practice to come back to, and that I spend more time there than not.
I have a nuanced relationship with sobriety and AA’s hard-line rules. I’ve found what works for me: experimenting with substances, prescription medications, and plant-medicines, and measuring success by how intentionally I move through the world and show up in my relationships. I want to share my own, specific, complex journey in hopes that others who are struggling with the all-or-nothing approach to sobriety might resonate with it, and see there can be many paths towards a healthy life of integrity.
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Part I: When Alcohol Seemed to Solve All My Problems
I’m Tyler and I’m a recovering alcoholic.
I found alcohol pretty late for a drunk, around the age of 19, but once I started I couldn’t stop. Alcohol for me was the solution to all of my insecurities. The sense of belonging I never felt. The awkwardness I had around new people. The way I couldn’t get out of my head long enough to have a good time. My endless pessimism. Alcohol solved for all of this.
It was such an effective lubricant for moving through the world that I very quickly stopped trying to move through the world without it. I was living in a place where this was more or less socially accepted, a party town full of tourists and expats, most of whom were some degree of drunk most of the time.
A few people close to me noticed that I was using in a way that was unhealthy. Fewer of those people mentioned it, on a couple of occasions. But I was young! It was fun! I was having the time of my life!…Right?!
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Part II: An Alcoholic Poster Child
If you want to know what the next 10 years of my life were like, read the book Alcoholics Anonymous, which is the basis of the program of the same name. Every chapter in that book is mirrored in my own life.
My 20s were a whirlwind of intercontinental “geographicals,” a term used in AA that means basically moving your entire life to a new location—a lot. For me, this looked like abruptly picking up and moving to a new town, burning my bridges, packing a backpack and usually following some poor woman to a new city to make her life hell for 18 months until she wised up.
I’d start by moderating my use with varying degrees of success, but before long I was lying, cheating, sometimes stealing to support my habit. I could always get a job and usually hold it down for quite a while, but it was only a matter of time before the personal and professional relationships started feeling the strain of my daily drinking.
When the jig was up and I found myself out on my ass, I’d repeat the process. New girl, new town, new job. I was a very resourceful parasite, with little consideration for the people I hurt.
I don’t think I’m a bad person. My intentions were always good. I swore I would stop, get it under control. I just needed a change of scenery, relationship, or routine, and it would be the easiest thing in the world to nip this in the bud. If my circumstances were different, I could surely reel it in.
Despite the lack of evidence, I really did believe all of that for far too long. It’s a difficult thing, admitting utter defeat to something that almost everyone around you seems to not give too much consideration to. Particularly as a man, I got the message that I should be able to handle my business and not ask for help about my personal failings.
But I felt totally lost in the woods and without control around something as innocuous as alcohol. Why can I not have a few beers without wrecking my entire life? How many relationships do I have to destroy before I get my shit together?
If I were just stronger… If I were more of a man…
It probably didn’t help that every time I did one of these radical geographicals I was able to moderate for a time. I did reel it back in for a bit. With the new stimulation and distractions, I was able to function pretty normally for a while. I thought it was just a matter of time before I got it under control for good. But it didn’t get better. It got worse.
A few days before my 30th birthday I woke up from a four-day blackout.
The incomprehensible demoralization of coming to, not knowing what I had done, who I had pissed off, where I had driven, how much money I had spent, who I’d had sex with, where my dog was, if I still had a job, and on and on…was very familiar by now. The deeply suicidal depression that followed was just as familiar.
I spent the following days hiding and picking up the pieces as best I could. I white-knuckled my way through a few days of shakey detox, calling rehabs and not having insurance to pay for them, before I finally turned to AA.
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Part III: AA Gives Me Sobriety, Belonging, and Dogma
I start here, with my early days of alcoholism and a bit of my story because it’s an important thing for me to remember.
In telling our stories, over and over again, we alcoholics inspire each other to stay on the path. We give each other hope and assurance that we are not alone. And we remember how bad it was so that we stay on the path ourselves. We tell of the isolation, despair and complete wasteland of our lives so that when that dormant alcoholic craving rears its head, we remember what it was like, what happened, and how much better off we are to be alive, and whole, and in a right state of mind.
When I found AA, I was able to stop drinking myself to death for the first time. But I gained so much more than that! I found community for the first time since leaving the church when I was 16. I found a path to spiritual healing. I was finally able to show up somewhere I didn’t feel pressure to be anything other than who I was. I was able to feel like more than a great waste of potential. Not only was I met in my struggle with alcohol but I felt met in my struggle to belong in the world.
Which is why I still wonder if I’m completely insane to reintroduce substances back into my life.
If you don’t know, the fellowship of Alcoholics Anonymous draws a hard line on mind-altering substances. It’s also deeply steeped in the spiritual language of mid-century America, that language being very Christian. There are plenty of areas in the literature that make it clear that belief in “a God of your own understanding” and “no ties to any sect, denomination or creed” are nominally principles of AA. The language is what it is and is as flawed as the men who wrote it.
That being said, the fellowship of AA is a group of the most accepting and non-judgmental people I have ever been around. We tell atrocious tales of our own behavior without fear of judgment, persecution or outrage. There is no cancel culture in AA. Excommunication is not an option because it would be a death sentence to many struggling alcoholics who desperately need somewhere to belong. I think the spiritual communities of the world could take a leaf from their book. And yet, there is still the dogma and traditions that come with any community. Namely: you are NOT sober if you are using mind-altering substances of any kind.
A brief aside to mention that there is a caveat for caffeine, tobacco, antidepressants, or any prescribed medication, regardless of how much and for how long that medication is being taken. There’s no advice on overeating or social media addiction or watching hours of TV every day. There’s little regard paid to violent language or excessive exercise. But you mustn’t use mind-altering substances.
As I mentioned, you won’t be ejected or excommunicated if you do use, but it is a popular practice to keep track of your days, months and years of sobriety. So much so that when you meet sober people, it’s not uncommon to ask or be asked directly of your sober time. Which is why I ended up lying over and over again.
There are also “service commitments” (voluntary administrative positions to local meetings) that have minimum sober time requirements. So, though there is a principle of welcoming back anyone who’s fallen off the wagon, there is also a lot of pressure, perceived and actual, to be consistently sober. Unfortunately, it’s not uncommon to hear someone express that they didn’t come back to the meetings as quickly as they should have after a relapse because they felt ashamed—for having relapsed, breaking their commitment.
SSRIs (antidepressants) were prescribed for me about six months into sobriety after going to my primary care physician for pretty severe depression. When I was prescribed, I expressed my desire for it to be temporary and my doctor was supportive. But my first attempt to come off of Zoloft left me in one of the worst depressions I’ve ever been in.
I restarted the Zoloft and started the research on alternatives. It turns out that psilocybin enters the blood brain barrier by very closely resembling the structure of serotonin. We now know that this allows the serotonin itself to more easily operate in the intended way following the pathways that were forged by a regimen of mushrooms, hence the growing popularity of microdosing (taking small amounts, “subtherapeutic doses,” of substances like mushrooms).
I was so torn. On the one hand, I wanted very much to be off this medication that allowed me to move through the world but also left me numb to it. On the other hand, I had been told that I, as an alcoholic, could never do any substances without relapsing.
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Part IV: Finding a Path of Intention and Moderation
A few things coalesced over a matter of months that led to me diving into the world of alternative medicines. First, I went on a camping trip with some old friends who had been diving deep into plant medicines. Then, I met a few new friends who had discovered ways of staying sober without AA. Finally, I learned about the growing research around plant-based therapies and the success treating depression and PTSD. I was finally in a place where I felt comfortable enough to start microdosing.
I confided in a few people so that I wasn’t being secretive. I wrote out a very intentional dose regimen based on depression studies that were quite successful. And I found myself some mushrooms. I cannot express how immediate and how drastic the effect of microdosing had on my life. I weaned off of SSRIs within two months. I have not experienced a severe depressive episode in the last four years. All that being said, I still struggle with guilt around using.
Since that time, I have introduced other substances into my life with varying degrees of success. I have used drugs recreationally to feel closer to my friends and lovers. I have used drugs medicinally in varying doses with very specific intentions. I have used drugs to explore altered states of consciousness and what hidden lessons lie there. I have used to bring my energy up and to bring my energy down. And I’ve also used because I was bored or needed to “check out” when life got stressful.
Every time I use substances I recognize in me this alcoholic urge to do more. “This is great! You know what would be better? MORE!” The alcoholic mantra. It’s not lost on me that I eat, watch TV, climb mountains, date, and work the same way that I drink. Moderation is not my strong suit.
In one sense, it’s as simple as delayed gratification—not listening to the voice that wants more, now. But it’s not just about one more cookie before bed; the stakes for someone like me, with alcoholic or addictive tendencies, is life and death. Maybe that’s the dogma of AA, or maybe it’s just the reality of being someone who was a depressed alcoholic for so long.
But moderation has become my practice, and it feels like my lesson in this life, that with the more intentionality that I move through the world, the more content I feel. The more I can slow down, bring my awareness to the present and make decisions about my behavior based on how I want to live, the more joy I feel. At this point, whatever relationship with substances allows me to feel most intentional in my relationships and how I move through the world, is the one I want to stick with.
I still struggle with a lot of guilt around using other substances even when done rarely and with intention. The question is, “Am I still struggling with undue guilt from the indoctrination I’ve received or does some part of me deeply fear that I will fall into a relapse that will take me back to unconscious drudgery, moving through this life in a manner so toxic that I couldn’t keep up a healthy friendship?” Maybe both.
Currently, if I had to assess, I’d say that mind-altering substances are a net positive in my life. I’ve been able to move through grief and trauma in ways that were previously inaccessible to me. I’ve worked through some of my more indoctrinated beliefs around other groups of people and been able to step away from my judgments. To rewire some deeply ingrained thought processes. Even though some may disagree, or dislike that this sounds like an endorsement of drugs for everyone, I find that for myself, I’ve had connections with other humans to a depth and intimacy that can often take years when approached from sobriety.
I’ve also estranged myself to some degree from the community that brought me here.
I could say I’ve outgrown them, and there is perhaps a bit of truth there. But more than that, I’ve just chosen my own path, for better or worse. So now, I get to look back with fondness and gratitude, moving forward with as much temperance and optimism as possible, knowing that if I need help, the hand of AA will be there to welcome me back in. And having that secure foundation to build upon truly makes all the difference.
Discussion Questions for Readers:
Our whole purpose is fostering conversation on vulnerable topics, and growing a culture of healthy integrated masculinity. We encourage you to reflect on these questions, or ask them to other men in your life. You can use our Story Discussion Guide to walk you through how to facilitate a ~90 minute group discussion.
What is your relationship to substances, whether alcohol, drugs, caffeine, prescription medicines or something else? How do you think about “moderation” or intentional use?
What is your relationship with addiction? Have you ever kept using something even in the face of clear patterns of dysfunction? Have you made amends?
Have you ever felt like you couldn’t admit failure with a “personal problem” or ask for help as a man? When? What happened?
Have you been helped by strict all-or-nothing rules? Have you been part of any dogmatic communities (religious, military, spiritual, etc.)? When has that been helpful, and when has it held you back?
Have you ever felt like you’ve outgrown a community or a set of dogmatic norms? What challenges or gifts did you find in carving your own nuanced personal path?
Have reactions, questions, or similar stories that you want to share with the author? You can email us at editors.realmenshare@gmail.com and we’ll forward your message to them. Thanks for engaging on these vulnerable topics!