Learning at Recovery Speed
You are learning fast enough
I was sitting in a meeting recently when someone said something that stopped me cold.
He was talking about the Big Book—how he wishes he’d learned to use it earlier, how he doesn’t highlight his copy because he doesn’t want to “dirty it up,” but he knows others do. He was clearly frustrated with himself for not understanding it faster, for not being further along than he is.
And I thought: That’s me. That’s exactly how I think.
I’ve spent years wishing I’d learned the steps faster, understood the program better, gotten it “right” sooner. If only I’d highlighted my Big Book from day one. If only I’d gone to more meetings early on. If only I’d worked the steps more thoroughly the first time.
If only I’d been smarter, faster, better—I’d have better sobriety today, right?
But sitting there, listening to this person voice the same frustration I’ve carried for years, something shifted. I had a moment of genuine self-forgiveness.
I learned what I learned through experience. There was no way to speed it up.
When I first got sober, I wanted to be like the old-timers—now. I wanted their wisdom, their serenity, their decades of knowledge—but without the decades. I was impatient with myself for not understanding things immediately. Why couldn’t I just get it?
Here’s what I’ve realized: Sobriety doesn’t work at smartphone speed.
Everyone progresses at different rates. Some people grasp concepts quickly. Others (like me) need to study, sit with ideas, come back to them multiple times before they click. There’s no right pace. There’s only your pace.
The Big Book is genuinely hard to understand. I know as much as I do now because I’ve studied it for years—reading books about how it was written, attending study sessions to break down the text into something more digestible. I would have loved to have all the answers in six months. But that’s not how my mind works. And that’s okay.
In recovery, we talk a lot about character defects and making amends. We learn to take inventory of ourselves, to identify where we’ve fallen short, to make things right.
But we can take that too far. I hear people in meetings beating themselves up over not understanding something quickly enough, not working a step perfectly, not getting recovery “right” fast enough. And I realize: we’re applying the same harsh self-judgment to our learning process that we used to apply to our drinking.
That’s not what recovery is about.
The missteps? They’re learning opportunities. Not moral failures. Not evidence you’re doing it wrong. Just part of the process.
I’m not talking about major relapses or serious harm to others. I’m talking about misreading something in the Big Book. Misinterpreting a step. Taking longer than you think you “should” to understand a concept. These aren’t character defects. They’re just learning.
Here’s something else worth considering: What if we did pick up recovery knowledge instantly? Then what would we have to look forward to?
The joy and growth in recovery is in the journey. There’s no requirement to meet a certain speed. There’s no test with a minimum score. You can take the test over and over. You can learn at your own pace.
The only metric that proves success: Did I drink today?
If the answer is no, you’re doing it right. Everything else is just learning.
This wasn’t easy self-discovery for me. I’ve been hard on myself about my recovery pace for years. But hearing that person at the meeting—recognizing my own struggle in his words—gave me permission to forgive myself.
I learned what I needed to learn, when I needed to learn it. And I’m still learning. That’s exactly how it’s supposed to work.
So here’s my invitation to you: Be easier on yourself. Whatever pace you’re moving at, it’s the right pace for you.
What was your breakthrough moment in recovery? When did you finally give yourself permission to learn at your own speed? I’d love to hear your story in the comments.