I decided to write this letter to express myself and to help others better understand me. Even within the supportive environment of an NA meeting, the obstacle of deafness is enormous. Many people are unfamiliar and uncomfortable with deafness, so I thought a perfect opportunity existed for me to write about my experiences as a deaf person in recovery. I am not, however, speaking on behalf of deaf people, or of people in recovery. I am speaking only about me. I am no more a model for the deaf community than I am for the recovery community.

My intention is not to complain about my difficulties or to seek sympathy. My point is to emphasize that the deaf world can be lonely in ways that hearing people never think about. I’m on the fringes of both the deaf and hearing worlds, and I don’t completely belong to either of them, but for sure I belong in NA.

Deaf people have varying degrees of hearing and speech. Some people can hear a little bit, while others are very deaf. Some can read lips, while others can’t. Some are able to speak fairly clearly, and others can’t. We’re all different. I have a cochlear implant, but I still cannot understand speech, and I am still deaf. In the same way that abstinence from drugs doesn’t mean addiction is cured, having an implant does not mean I can hear everything. People don’t realize that much of my isolation stems from that misconception.

I know people might feel awkward approaching me because they are afraid they won’t be able to communicate with me. If people want to communicate with me, I can manage it. I’ve been doing it all my life. I almost always have pen and paper and can express just about anything that way. I feel hurt when people complain that writing notes takes too much time or energy. Writing may be an option for most people, but it is a necessity for me.

I typically try to arrive at meetings early and ask the secretary/chairperson to arrange for a volunteer note-taker. On several occasions, the chairperson felt burdened by my request and told me I should go to meetings with interpreters. Interpreted meetings, however, are scarce, and sometimes those interpreters are not skilled. I was shocked to be sent away from meetings because someone thought they knew what I needed. Is it really so bothersome to ask for a volunteer to take notes?

I’ve had volunteer note-takers refuse to write down members’ names because they thought they were violating anonymity. Since the speaker announced their name to the whole room, the note-taker wasn’t protecting anyone’s anonymity. They were just censoring information everyone else at the meeting had. How else can I get to know people?

Sometimes people are unfamiliar with issues relating to deafness or using interpreters. For example, in some meetings or workshops, a chairperson has asked the interpreter to sit off to the side—far away from the person speaking. In some situations, that might be acceptable, but deaf people gain understanding from simultaneously watching the interpreter and the person speaking. I’ve also had people request that both the interpreter and all the deaf people move to the back of the room because they think sign language interpreters are distracting. Well, I’d be much more distracting if I was loaded!

I have to work harder to “hear” the message of recovery. When I ask for help with interpreting what is said, your help is saving my life. Being deaf means living in a world of isolation and oppression. I want to say again how grateful I am for the people who have made an effort to get to know me and help me share in our recovery process. I wrote this letter to vent my thoughts, but also to help raise awareness. I hope that together we can make the road to recovery easier for deaf people.

Hello everyone, my name is Gerson, and I’m an addict. I was affected by Sally’s share in the January 2005 NA Way, “What Should Be Shared?”

I remember what a member told me one day: “Gerson, help me. I am angry with my home group, because since I stopped using drugs I have started to eat compulsively to calm my anxiety. When I shared about this in my group, the leader asked me not to share on this topic because it wasn’t related to using drugs, that in NA we deal with drug problems.”

So I told this member that when I stopped using, my life was (and still can be) complete chaos, because my problem wasn’t really drugs, my problem was me. I am an addict, and the most evident symptom of my disease was the use of drugs. My disease consists of a compulsive search outside myself for something that makes me feel happy.

Now my disease manifests itself in different ways, just like our literature tells us. In It Works: How and Why, it says, “As we continue in our recovery, we will see how these aspects of our addiction can manifest themselves in many areas of our lives.” (p. 7) Later, on page 14, we read, “The disease of addiction can manifest itself in a variety of mental obsessions and compulsive actions that have nothing to do with drugs.”

Haven’t you ever had days when everything turns out badly? On those days, I go to a meeting and share. I find out my bad day is not related to drugs, but I still feel better after I share about it. It can also help someone else to know that others experience these types of situations. Perhaps, as a result, someone will approach me because they can identify with what I shared.

In the beginning of my recovery, I shared something very painful and scandalous about my life. At the end of the meeting, some members came to me and said they didn’t want me to come close to them. Another member asked me, “Do you have a sponsor?” I told him I didn’t and he asked if I would like to have one. That is how I got my first sponsor. He told me that there were some things I shouldn’t share in NA rooms, but that I could share those things with him. He also told me he identified with everything I shared.

Since then, I go to meetings to find experience, strength, and hope by means of identification. Those fellow members who once judged me are now my best friends. In her article, Sally requested an opinion on whether she should share the kind of everyday problems that any addict might experience. From the deepest part of my being, and with the little humility that my program has offered me, I believe that today I go to NA meetings to recover from the disease of addiction—and this disease goes much further than just using drugs, because it is a physical, mental, and spiritual disease.

With love to my Higher Power and to you and NA, I am clean.