Why closed meetings?

A comment on my previous post brought up the very good question: why closed meetings?

A closed meeting is a meeting in which anyone who has a desire not to drink that day is welcome. It doesn't matter if it's your first meeting or your thousandth. Doesn't matter if you desired to drink the day previous, or you'll be drinking the next day. It doesn't even matter if you'll drink right after the meeting in question. All one needs is the desire not to drink to attend a closed meeting.

An open meeting is open to the public. While that sounds nice and fuzzy, let's remember who makes up the public: ex-spouses, bosses, probation officers, reporters, nosy neighbors, in-laws ... in short, all sorts of folks you might not feel comfortable sharing in front of. They do not need to have a desire not to drink, just a sense of curiosity. They are not bound by the traditions of anonymity. Alcoholics who are deeply concerned about their own anonymity may choose not to attend open meetings for this reason, and that's their right.

Anonymity

Mark posted over at A Dozen Steps a very interesting item about being "too anonymous", something I have never pondered before.

When I first came to the Program several years ago, I told no one until I had 45-60 days of sobriety (I can't remember exactly how much time I had, to be rigorously honest). Then I started "coming out" to people. This is how I found out that everyone knew I had a drinking problem, but few said anything about it. I would muster up the courage to tell family and close friends, and no one had the decency to act shocked or ask me if I wasn't being a little bit rash. Instead, everyone said, "Oh M, that's wonderful!".

Like I was the last one to know or something! Sheesh ...

So now I'm in to win, but I still have to be mindful:

I don't volunteer it, nor do I hide it. When I am offered a drink by a so-called-normal person, I decline politely. If it is offered again by the same person, I state that I do not drink alcohol. If that person then asks why, I reply that I am allergic. Yes, I am then tortured by the standard tale of Someone-They -Sort-Of-Know-Who-Breaks-Out-in-Hives-If-She-Drinks-151, but I have not made the Normie uncomfortable by stating that I'm in recovery.

I put others' anonymity before my own. The vast majority of my friends are in recovery. If a normie asks how I met a recovering person, I simply say "Through friends" or "At a get-together." I may not care that the normie finds out I go to meetings, but my recovering friend might!

I accept the fact that in some arenas, recovery makes normal people nervous. When I lived in Dallas, I was told by several folks that there existed a super-secret meeting close to a major airport only for airline pilots. It was invitation only. I know that this is a potential violation of Tradition One. In reality, I want airline pilots (and doctors and lawyers and all other professionals who often hold the course of other's lives in their hands on a daily basis) to be able to get this thing, and if that means super-secret meetings, so be it!

I think about my internet usage carefully. Social networking sites like MySpace and Facebook pack a double-edged sword: they help me meet others in recovery, but they also have all kinds of vehicles for breaking others' anonymity.

And so do blogs, so as usual, I sign off with no name!