Stop Telling Me How to Talk About My Recovery

“Chris! STOP Saying You’re a ‘Recovering Addict!'”

I keep seeing it on social media: people — and let’s be honest, most of them aren’t in recovery — demanding we change our language.

They say things like:

“You’re more than an addict.”
“You shouldn’t say ‘recovering addict.’”
“You’re recovered.”
“Don’t say ‘clean.’ That’s a harmful word.”

But here’s the thing — I’m not recovered.

I’m not fixed. I’m recovering. After 20 years of sobriety, that’s still the most honest word I can use.

And you know what? I’m proud of that.

The Words I Use Are for Me — Not You

There’s a growing trend to sanitize recovery language, to make it more palatable or politically correct. And I understand the motivation — no one wants people to feel stigmatized. But we’ve crossed a line when people outside this life start telling those of us inside it how we’re “allowed” to speak about our own experiences.

I say “recovering addict” because:

• I know I’m an addict. I say it to myself every day.
• I’m ‘recovering’ because this is a lifelong process. It doesn’t end.

This Isn’t Just Semantics — It’s Identity That Keeps Me Alert

When I say I’m an addict, it’s not shame — it’s clarity. It’s humility. It’s a compass.

I’ve never once said, “Hi, I’m Chris and I’m an addict,” and felt weaker because of it.

If anything, it grounds me.

It reminds me of where I’ve been and what I need to keep doing.

And here’s the part people don’t get: you can be proud of something and still know it’s messy. I’m proud of my recovery, and that doesn’t mean I’m some spiritual superhero. I’ve got character defects, trauma, and compulsions I still work through.

Addiction isn’t just about substances — it’s about behaviors, wiring, patterns. It shows up everywhere.

Stop Policing a Community You’re Not Part Of

Let’s call this what it is: people outside the recovery community trying to clean us up so we’re more digestible to them.

You don’t like the word “clean”? That’s fine — don’t use it. But don’t tell me I can’t.

When I say “clean,” I’m describing a break — a line in the sand between chaos and clarity. It’s a word that matters to me.

When you say “you’re more than just an addict,” I know that. I’m a husband, a dad, a business owner, a man of faith, and a mentor. But when I’m sharing in a recovery space, I’m not there to list my resume. I’m there to connect with other people who speak my language.

I don’t want our community gentrified for outside comfort.

I don’t want the tribal fire of our recovery stolen because someone with a clipboard decided the terminology was “dated.”

Recovery Isn’t a Rebranding Campaign

Let me be clear: I’m all for inclusive spaces.

I love that we now have options like Smart Recovery and Dharma Recovery for people who need a non-religious or alternative path. That’s amazing.

But we don’t need to gut the original programs or shame the people using traditional terms to make room for them. We can build new homes without tearing down the old ones.

If the language of AA or NA doesn’t sit well with you, cool, you don’t have to be there. But don’t show up demanding it all be rewritten to match your comfort level.

We’re not a corporation doing a brand refresh. We’re human beings trying to stay alive.

Let the Tribe Speak for Itself

I got clean because a group of people welcomed me. They didn’t care what I looked like, voted like, or believed in. I saw old people, young people, atheists, Christians, anarchists — and we were all united by one thing: we were addicts, and we were trying to get better.

We found shared language, shared pain, and shared healing.

If you’re not living this, don’t dictate how we talk. You don’t have to understand our words — you just have to respect that they’re ours.

If someone in recovery chooses to say “person with substance use disorder,” more power to them. I support that. But don’t come in here telling the rest of us we have to match your tone.

Say What You Need to Say

I’ll wrap it with this:

You can call yourself whatever helps you stay alive, stay grounded, and stay true to yourself.

I’m not here to force my words onto others, and I expect the same respect in return.

We’ve already lost too many good people.

Language isn’t the enemy — isolation is.

Shame is.

Silence is.

And if calling myself a “recovering addict” is what helps me keep showing up for life?

Then that’s what I’ll say.

Every time.