To the Commenter Who Shamed Me
I have some thoughts on making money and “the principle of service” in the recovery space.
Two weeks ago, a subscriber dropped by SoberStack™ (my annotated directory of Substack newsletters dedicated to addiction recovery) and left a comment: “Apparently the principle of service is lost upon you Dana Leigh Lyons.”
Most comments on Sober Soulful are warm, generous, and kind. The tone of this one made my stomach drop and filled me with dread.
He led with the following quote—which, from what I’ve gathered, comes from Narcotics Anonymous but also applies to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings and sponsors: “we have no initiation fees or dues, no pledges to sign, no promises to make to anyone.”
While the SoberStack™ directory is in fact free, he then explained that he was compelled to share his perspective upon seeing that I offer premium content to paying subscribers. Because I’m in recovery and write about recovery, he seems to take issue with me charging for subscriptions.
Along with sharing his unsolicited assessment of my character and business model on my personal newsletter, he broadcast it on Substack’s social media feed—aka, Notes.
Just writing this, I’m sweating. I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS.
First, some context: There are more than 35 million newsletter subscriptions in the Substack network, and 2 million of them are paid.1 Very few writers here earn enough through paid subscriptions to make Substack their full-time vocation, but hey—anything is something when finances are tight (and I’ve been uncomfortably forthright that finances are tight).
While I’m grateful for all subscribers at Sober Soulful, I earn a few thousand dollars a year (in total) from paid subscriptions. It’s an appreciated and needed source of income. It also means way more to me than dollar signs, because I pour many hours and much heart into this newsletter and consider it my most meaningful work.
My displeased commenter (who’s a free subscriber, so he gets access to the SoberStack™ directory plus several public essays each month) is in long-term recovery and describes himself as an alcoholic and drug addict. He’s also a psychotherapist, author of six books, and shamanic practitioner.
I bring up his bio because, in the same string of comments, he compared his choices to mine. He explained, for instance, that he doesn’t charge for his newsletter, shamanic ceremonies, or his shares at AA, NA, and other recovery meetings (where anyone present can “share” stories or observations from their personal recovery). He acknowledged that he’d be happy for someone to buy his books but said no one does so he gives them away.
Apparently, the fact that he doesn’t charge for these things, and the fact that we’re both functioning within the recovery space, means that I shouldn’t charge for my newsletter.
Before going further, I want to state clearly: This is not about AA or NA. Some of my closest connections on Substack follow AA and NA paths of recovery. Those groups are doing powerful, much needed work.
Heck, if you peruse the free directory where this guy left his comments, you’ll find loads of AA-focused newsletters. SoberStack™ includes 112 writers of diverse ages, backgrounds, beliefs, and paths to recovery. It features—and promotes—writers who embrace AA-specific recovery in addition to writers who embrace non-AA paths.
There isn’t one best way to recover. I not only respect this—I celebrate it. However…
This isn’t an AA meeting.
Although I have deep admiration for AA and NA and even attend meetings on occasion, they aren’t my personal path of recovery. What, exactly, would compel someone to show up and demand that I follow their rules and principles? The rules and principles of groups to which I don’t even belong?
In the words of my friend Mark Kennedy, who is in AA and recently celebrated 24 years of sobriety:
“It’s true that tradition 8 of the 12 traditions states that AA should forever be nonprofessional, but you aren’t claiming to represent AA. The guy’s logic is flawed there. Also you aren’t charging anyone to sponsor them. You’re charging for your writing. You’re a writer, not a sponsor.”2
Nailed it. I’m not claiming to be AA. I’m not claiming to be a sponsor. I’m a Doctor of Traditional Chinese Medicine. I charge for my professional services. I’m a writer. I charge for some content (not all) here on Sober Soulful, a newsletter that I spend hours each week creating.
Money from subscriptions helps me pay for food, rent, and bills. It also helps me pay an editor and photographer—professionals who deserve to be compensated for their services and who elevate the quality of this newsletter for all subscribers (including those who opt for the free plan).3 And it allows me to purchase paid subscriptions from fellow writers—including ones who write about recovery and ones who are teaching me how to improve my writing.
And, while I do offer lots of free content, I’m not personally comfortable making everything free. Part of this is because of the time I devote to Sober Soulful. Part of it is because I don’t feel like exposing all my most vulnerable content to everyone for the taking (this is also why I paywall most essays once they’ve been up for a week or two).
“The principle of service is lost upon you.”
When I consider what constitutes an “act of service” or “being of service,” I see a place for paid and unpaid work. If we expand the scope beyond volunteer work, there are countless ways to support and be of service to others.
Think about people you pay for helping and healing services: Would you rather they approached their work as purely transactional? Or would you rather they ask themselves: “How can I best be of service to my clients, patients, or readers?” Because I can assure you, those two approaches will result in different experiences and outcomes for you as well as the person you’re paying.
I do think of my work as deeply meaningful. I do hope with my whole heart that some folks find it helpful. And I do choose to continue writing Sober Soulful even though, if we were to break it down, my “wage” amounts to a few cents an hour.
Meaningful work is important to me (and I’ve quit better paying work that wasn’t meaningful for this reason). But also, I don’t consider it remarkable or unreasonable to ask for payment for my writing.
Beyond this newsletter, what about my other work? What about when I write about sobriety and wellness for publications and companies as a freelancer? What about my clinical practice, where I often work with clients struggling with addictions?
Beyond my work, what about others working in recovery and recovery-adjacent fields and professions? How about people who work at detox, rehab, and out-patient facilities? Or therapists? Or sober coaches? Or traditional healers? Or people who run non-AA sober communities and programs? Or authors writing the “quit lit” that was invaluable on my own recovery journey and that of many others?4
Those are vital, potentially life-saving services and resources that help a whole lot of people. Should we not pay those who create and offer them? If we don’t pay them, how many such services and resources do you think will continue? Because while AA- and NA-based services also help a whole lot of people, they aren’t the best fit or sufficient for every person in recovery.
Heck, my hot-and-bothered commenter is a psychotherapist! I’m guessing he’s worked with people struggling with addictions at one point or another in his professional career and charged for it.
And what about other healing professionals? Doctors, nurses, humanitarian workers, etc.? Are they supposed to work for free as well? Or is that just sober females writing on the internet?
Is there a place for offering service without charge in the recovery community and elsewhere? Absolutely. When it comes to unpaid service, I consider my practice of Buddhist meditation and ethics an essential part of every day.
That practice helps me show up more beautifully. That practice makes it impossible for me to take on paid work that I consider harmful or unethical. And that practice, when we get down to it, has me feeling all kinds of conflicted about writing this essay.
And, I live in a world that requires paying for things. We can be of service in how we show up. We can be of service by donating our money, energy, and time. And we can be of service and still make money in order to live and pay bills.
Why do I care?
Speaking of Buddhism, I want to share the wise words of another sober friend and writer, Taishin Michael Augustin. Taishin Michael weaves together AA traditions and Buddhist teachings in his fantastic newsletter on Substack. Here’s what he had to say about the above situation:
“Well, I’ll share that I’m less interested in the topic of payment and more interested in how to respond to that sort of feedback. I was immediately reminded of a story about Zen master Sono, whose central teaching was saying to everything that came her way: ‘Thank you very much. I have no complaints whatsoever.’ This includes students that received her teaching, practiced it for a year, then returned telling her that it did nothing for [their] well-being and happiness. She replied, ‘Thank you very much. I have no complaints whatsoever.’ 😅 Anyways, I’m interested in what gets in the way of that response. I’m certainly not quick to offer it from time to time. 😇”
Yes. OMG, YES. I find this line of inquiry infinitely more interesting than my initial, rage-ful reaction. It gets at the real questions I need to ask: Why did Random Man’s judgment bother me? What was standing in the way of me saying: “Thank you very much, good sir. I have no complaints whatsoever.”
So, why do I care? What kept me spinning rather than accepting that this happens to be his belief and he happens to find it appropriate to share on my personal site and publicly?
Truth be told, I plan on using Zen master Sono’s line next time. Meanwhile, as I unpack these questions, two observations:
Some of this is about me. A lot of this is about me. Deep down, despite decades of reflection and practice, part of me doesn’t feel worthy of charging for my writing and work. Otherwise, this guy’s comments would’ve bounced right off and I would’ve moved on without writing this essay.
And, it’s not all about me. In our cultural context, there’s a particular dynamic at play when an older white man (working in the high-status, “helping” profession of psychotherapy, no less) interjects himself into the internet “home” of a woman whom he doesn’t even know to offer his unsolicited opinion about whether she should be charging for her services. This is not new. This is not about recovery and being of service. This is actually the number one reason that I request on every single essay to please share your personal experience but do not offer unsolicited advice.
Entangled in these observations is guilt. I feel guilty for even writing about this, for diverging from my own path of Buddhist practice and contributing to division rather than connection. I feel guilty for letting myself feel responsible for yet another adult man and his shitty behaviour.
To thine own self be true.
And yet, I know I’m capable of holding all of this. I know that even through my hurt and guilt, I believe in what I’m doing and am deeply grateful for everyone here. Every person who subscribes or even just stops by to read is an integral part of this 2,200+ member community.
To leave off with more AA wisdom from my friend Mark:
“I’ll add two sayings we have in the rooms that I hope are as helpful to you as they’ve been to me. ‘To thine own self be true.’ And, ‘What other people think of me is none of my concern.’ And one for him: ‘Rule 62: Don’t take yourself too seriously.’”
I love those sayings. I love the response of Zen master Sono. And I see very clearly where my ongoing work is with all of this. I can acknowledge my commenter’s beliefs and move on without needing to defend my own beliefs, decisions, and actions.
Thank you from my heart, Mark, Taishin Michael, and every single one of you who shared your thoughts and support when I asked you on Notes. Truly, there’s immense wisdom in AA and NA teachings and practices. There’s immense love and care in AA and NA, on Sober Soulful, and in the wider recovery community.
To my commenter, I hope you find that. Love, care, community.
Now you, and thank you.
I’d love for you to share in comments:
How do you feel about sober folks or others in the recovery community charging for recovery-related content and services?
When answering, please be kind and proceed with care towards everyone in this space. Please share your own experience without offering unasked for advice to others.
I’d also love for you to tap the little ♡. It offers “social proof” and lets others know there’s something useful here. The more people become paying subscribers 😁, the more time I can devote to Sober Soulful, which I consider my most magical, most meaningful work.
P.S. If you’re considering a paid subscription to Sober Soulful, March is my birthday month! To celebrate, I’m running a small sale on annual memberships until the end of the month:
And thank you, thank you, thank you to folks who helped me reach this new milestone. This work means the world. You’re making it possible.
Substack About page: https://substack.com/about
A sponsor in AA is someone who has made progress in their recovery and agrees to support another person trying to maintain their sobriety through the AA program. You can find a full explanation and other resources on the AA Cleveland site here.
Mega shoutout to my editor, Erin Shetron. Erin takes my drafts and—with an objective eye, exacting precision, and kindness—cuts entire sections while pushing me to write more about the exact things I try to avoid but very much need to write about.
That’s an affiliate link for Bookshop.org, where I curate quit lit and other lists and may earn a small commission if you use my links to make a purchase.
Ngl, I definitely felt the heat rising at the back of my neck as I made my way through this post because I think it is remarkably audacious and tbh abhorrent to disguise shaming a woman for charging for her work as ‘sharing a perspective’.
This is your work, this is labour. You can charge for that as you see fit.
Not every endeavour can be purely altruistic because we need food, shelter, warmth and tbh whatever else we want to spend our hard earned money on. Not every endeavour SHOULD be purely altruistic. And you actually post a lot for free subscribers and also links to resources (not that you need to but this is the space you wanted to create and have created, which so many people appreciate).
I think people, women in particular, who provide services and content in sober spaces should charge for their work because there’s this expectation that a lot of things should be free and it’s simply not sustainable to put so much out and get nothing back. It’s not a fair exchange. Work is work.
Last point, women already do so much unpaid labour so I like women defying the narrative that that’s how it should be. So much love to you Dana 🫶🏽
That man is jealous of your audience and seeks to cause drama. I recommend blocking him and moving on with your work. I would also submit that your work helps people move beyond sobriety with what I perceive as a seeking life balance.
Also, I am not an addict but I am a paid subscribe because I see value in helping you support other human beings to become more than just recovering addicts.