Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions

STEP FIVE

say nothing. Certain distressing or humiliating memories,
we tell ourselves, ought not be shared with anyone. These
will remain our secret. Not a soul must ever know. We hope
they'll go to the grave with us.

Yet if A.A.'s experience means anything at all, this is not
only unwise, but is actually a perilous resolve. Few muddled
attitudes have caused us more trouble than holding back on
Step Five. Some people are unable to stay sober at all; oth-
ers will relapse periodically until they really clean house.
Even A.A. oldtimers, sober for years, often pay dearly for
skimping this Step. They will tell how they tried to car-
ry the load alone; how much they suffered of irritability,
anxiety, remorse, and depression; and how, unconsciously
seeking relief, they would sometimes accuse even their best
friends of the very character defects they themselves were
trying to conceal. They always discovered that relief never
came by confessing the sins of other people. Everybody
had to confess his own.

This practice of admitting one's defects to another per-
son is, of course, very ancient. It has been validated in
every century, and it characterizes the lives of all spiritu-
ally centered and truly religious people. But today religion
is by no means the sole advocate of this saving principle.
Psychiatrists and psychologists point out the deep need ev-
ery human being has for practical insight and knowledge
of his own personality flaws and for a discussion of them
with an understanding and trustworthy person. So far as
alcoholics are concerned, A.A. would go even further.
Most of us would declare that without a fearless admis-
sion of our defects to another human being we could not