I’m Not a Bad Person Getting Good, I’m a Sick Person Getting Well

For a long time, I believed I was just a bad person. The way I drank, the choices I made, the lies I told—they all seemed to prove it. Every morning after another night of destruction, I woke up with the same crushing guilt and shame. I promised myself I would change, but the next day I drank again and did something even worse. It felt like proof that I was rotten at the core, unworthy of love or trust. That kind of thinking kept me trapped for years, certain that I was beyond repair.

But when I came into AA, I started to hear something different. I began to hear people describe alcoholism not as a lack of morals, but as a sickness. They talked about a physical allergy that set off a craving and a mental obsession that made it impossible to stay stopped. That explanation hit me like nothing else had. For the first time, I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe I wasn’t just a bad person trying to turn good. Maybe I was a sick person who had a chance to get well.

The guilt and shame I carried had been enormous. I hurt people I loved, broke promises that mattered, and lived in ways that went against everything I thought I valued. Of course others thought I was a bad person—I acted badly. But that’s the trick of this disease: my actions said one thing, while inside I was desperate for something else. I wanted to be good, but alcohol always won. That cycle nearly convinced me I was worthless.

What changed was hearing other alcoholics tell the same story. They shared how they couldn’t control their drinking no matter how hard they tried, how they swore off a thousand times and always went back. They weren’t bad people. They were sick, like me. That identification opened the door for me to see myself differently. I began to believe that what I had was an illness, and like any illness, there was a treatment. The treatment was the program of AA.

One of the most powerful moments of my early recovery was sitting down with my first sponsor and going through Step Five. After unloading everything I had written in my Fourth Step—the resentments, the fears, the harms I had caused—I waited for him to look at me in disgust. But instead he looked at me and said, “This is you on paper. You don’t have to be this person anymore. Today you can start to be different.” That was the first time I believed I might not be doomed by my past. That moment gave me a glimpse of what freedom could feel like.

From there, recovery became about getting well, not about trying to look good. Taking the Steps wasn’t a punishment for being bad. They were medicine for a sick spirit. Step Nine, making amends, was part of the healing process. It wasn’t about proving myself; it was about setting right what I could and freeing myself from the wreckage. Step Ten became daily maintenance, catching myself when old patterns crept back in. Step Eleven gave me prayer and meditation, ways to connect with my Higher Power instead of falling back into self-will. And Step Twelve turned all of it outward, reminding me that real healing happens when I help others.

The more I lived in those Steps, the more I realized recovery wasn’t about achieving perfection. It was about practicing honesty, willingness, and humility one day at a time. Slowly, I started to see that I wasn’t the sum of my mistakes. I was someone with a sickness who had found a way to live in recovery.

To anyone new who still feels crushed by shame, please hear this: you are not a bad person. You are not beyond hope. You are a sick person who has a chance to get well. The disease of alcoholism will tell you that you are worthless and broken beyond repair. That’s a lie. The truth is that when we take the Steps, lean on a sponsor, and trust a Higher Power, we begin to change in ways we never thought possible.

Today, I can look back and see that my worst moments don’t define me. They were symptoms of an illness that once had me by the throat. But recovery has given me a new identity—one rooted in healing, in service, and in connection with God. I’m not perfect, and I never will be, but I don’t have to live under the weight of shame anymore.

Recovery isn’t about becoming a good person. It’s about becoming a well person. And with that wellness comes freedom, peace, and the chance to live the life we were always meant to live.

There’s lots of AA meetings available to attend in-person or virtually. If you’re struggling with drinking, seek out the help you need, you can’t do it on your own. I know I couldn’t do it on my own and still can’t.

Find a sponsor that will take you through the steps as outlined in the book. You’ll see more of the truth about who you are and eventually it’ll change your life.

Change Your Truth, Change Your Life.

Haler Smith