My Recovery | Carla: Transgender and Alcoholic

Before she became Carla, she was Carl. Being transgender was private and not something she ever felt comfortable opening up about at meetings, but her sponsors always told her: “It’s no big deal.  In AA we don’t judge. You are one of us.” Says Carla,“They were right. AA became my best support system. Not only for my recovery. For my gender change, too.”

I had my first drink at 12 and at 14 was drinking most weekends. I goofed around in high school, took minimum credits the first half of college and spent the rest of my time partying. Halfway through college, as my girlfriend was breaking up with me she declared, “You’re going nowhere!” Resentment worked. I’d show her and I did.

For the next two college years, I only drank on weekends, and in law school limited myself to one weekend a month and graduated with honors. I was smugly proud of the victory of my resolve and willpower and relieved that — unlike some of my brothers who’d lost jobs and marriages — I could control my drinking. Little did I know that one of the hallmarks of a problem drinker is controlled drinking.

Turned out my victory was short-lived. Once out of law school, I didn’t work hard and play hard. I worked hard and drank hard — though never at lunch or at work. (Of course, that changed after work and on weekends.)

I married a woman who enjoyed drinking with and without me, and after a few years the marriage began to unravel. After a dinner out with my wife and friends one Friday night, she went to bed but I kept on drinking, blacking in and out. When I finally made it to bed, I was in a more amorous mood than my wife. An argument ensued, with me yelling and throwing things. My wife left to stay with friends. When I awoke next morning, the house was in shambles.

That was my moment of clarity. I realized I was an alcoholic. From my brothers’ histories, I knew where to call for help. I picked up my first AA chip that very night at a meeting, and for the next two years went to at least seven meetings a week. I acquired a sponsor who took me through the Twelve Steps. Twenty-four years later, I still go to three meetings a week, but now I guide others through the Steps.

There have been difficult times in sobriety. Troubles at home, at work, and sometimes just trouble. I’d reach out to my sponsor and explain: “Things aren’t going right. I’m having relationship problems. Work problems, too.” He’d invariably ask, “How many meetings are you going to?” I’d realize, “Oh. Right. I’ve been cutting back.” I came to understand that recovery isn’t reaching a point where the sun never stops shining. It’s realizing that bad times get better if you work through them.

Looking back, the darkest times in my sobriety have been preceded by those when I did not have time for AA. The best times have been those when I doubled down on AA. That was especially valuable knowledge when I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis shortly after my 11^th AA anniversary. Time to double down for sure.

Long before sobriety – even as a child — I’d cross-dressed. Secretly, I’d wished that I could be a girl. When I met my wife, wishful thinking took over. Marriage, I rationalized, would put a stop to my transgender feelings, so why bring up what would soon be ancient history? But some secrets are hard to keep, and 3 l/2 years into sobriety, I told her what I hoped was all either of us needed to know: “I like to cross-dress.” I’d persuaded myself that I was not actually transgender, and that cross-dressing would suffice.

That admission wasn’t the only reason for our divorce, but it was certainly a factor. In fact, I’ve come to believe that my wife’s therapist revealed her suspicion that — despite my inability to acknowledge it myself at the time — I was transgender, and that a gender transition was a strong possibility. A few months after my 4th AA anniversary, we divorced.

For the next 17 years, I struggled with being transgender. Surely the 6th and 7th Steps would take away this character defect; I could AA it away. It never happened. I cringed when the 6th and 7th Steps were discussed at meetings. My sponsors frequently encouraged me to accept myself just as I was, but I continued to feel that I was a good AA on the outside and a failure on the inside.

In 2006, I finally found the courage to talk to a gender therapist. After a few years of therapy, I realized that I needed to be true to myself. I knew I could not transition without AA, so I told my therapist, “I need to discuss this with my sponsor.” I did and he made it clear once more that he was with me all the way. Next came breaking the news to my dad (my mother having died while I was in law school). I braced for complete rejection, but I hoped that what I’d learned in AA about unconditional love would help.

“Dad,” I said, “I’m going to tell you something you are not going to like, but I want you to know that I love you unconditionally. No matter what your response is, I’ll always love you.” He didn’t understand my decision, but reluctantly accepted it. Over time he has come to be supportive.

I don’t subscribe to the belief that alcoholism is caused or triggered by stress or trauma. Being transgender had no more to do with my alcoholism than the fact that I have blue eyes. To my knowledge, there are no “social drinkers” in my family. My alcoholism, I’m convinced, is just good old-fashioned genetics. Early on, understanding why I drank was important. Now I’m content with the knowledge that if I pick up a drink, I can no longer predict the outcome of the evening or, for that matter, the day. Genetics? Circumstances? It doesn’t matter. I am simply an alcoholic who has found her way in AA.

For my first 21 years of sobriety, the 6th and 7th Steps were difficult. But inscribed on AA anniversary medallions are these words: “To your own self be true.” I concur.

After transition, I realized that what I’d long thought of as a character defect could actually be a blessing. It has allowed me to bring diversity to my profession and community and, most importantly, offer hope to others trudging the road I sometimes got lost on. In the end, that made it easy to embrace the 6th and 7th Steps.

I now understand why people sometimes say, “I’m grateful to be an alcoholic.” Without AA I would never have discovered that there is a positive side to being transgender – that living in two genders I’d had a special experience. Along the way, people often commented on how well my transition was going. I knew why: I had a support system most people lack. I’d learned not to hide my gender, but rather to be open and speak freely about it.

Like alcoholism, transgenderism is often misunderstood. In the press and on talk shows, we see myopic stories of the struggles of transgender people “trapped in the wrong body.” I always felt female psychologically, but I never felt trapped. I never rejected my body. I’ve embraced it both as a man and as a transgender woman.

On a plane not long ago, I found myself next to a man writing an article about estate planning for LGBT people. I could have turned away. Instead, freely and matter-of-factly, I was able to share my experience, strength, and hope and point him in the direction of accurate medical information for his article.

Thanks, AA.