Anonymity is sacred in sobriety. It offers protection when alcoholics and addicts are most vulnerable—just beginning to seek help. It took me time to understand that AA is a safe place—a kind of secret club for people from all walks of life who share a common struggle. Without the shield of anonymity, I know I never would have walked through the door.

Over the years, I’ve come to see anonymity in different ways.

First: Protecting Others
The rule is clear: you don’t break someone else’s anonymity. Ever. No one in AA can tell an outsider that someone is an alcoholic. It’s an unshakable foundation of trust. Only the individual has the right to disclose their recovery.

Second: Protecting Myself
In early sobriety, I was terrified of being “found out.” My work involved elected officials, lobbyists, and journalists. I thought exposure might cost me respect or opportunity. But over time, I started seeing those same people inside the rooms. That fear turned out to be ironic: the only people who might discover I was in AA were already in AA—and just as protective of their own anonymity. Looking back, the fear seems almost comical, but at the time, it was real.

For the first 10 years, I told only a few close friends and family. I was proud to be sober, but I still felt the stigma. Saying “I don’t drink” was easier than saying “I’m a recovering alcoholic.”

It wasn’t until years 15 and beyond that I began speaking openly. By then, the fear was gone. My sobriety wasn’t about protecting my image—it was about being useful to others. And I can’t help anyone if they don’t know I’m in recovery.

That’s why this part of my website exists. I meet people all the time—friends, strangers, colleagues—who need help, or know someone who does. They need to know there’s a solution. And someone willing to talk.

If we keep our recovery locked away, we limit our ability to serve. Of course, this touches another layer of the anonymity tradition—the caution against self-promotion through press, radio, or film. It’s a delicate balance, and one I continue to navigate.

But here’s what I’ve come to believe: while we protect the anonymity of others, each of us must decide for ourselves what to share. And for me, the time has come to speak freely.

So here I am—grateful, more grounded, and shouting it from the mountaintop.