Spotlight On Sobriety November 2026
Updated: 5 hours ago
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GaL-AA Elections ends Tuesday November 3rd at 5PM ET!
If you have an email address registered with us on October 1st, you should have received an email with your ballot.
GaL-AA Annual Meeting November 7th
Please mark your calendar. All members are welcome. To join the Annual Meeting, check your email on November 6th for link. Got questions for the Executive Committee? Please send to support@gal-aa.org by November 5th and we will try to answer during meeting, time permitting.
📅 Saturday, November 7, 2026 🕓 12:30 PM Eastern / 9:30 AM Pacific
Journey to Sobriety and Self
Kaycie grew up in a tiny town in Ohio where everyone knew everyone else, and drinking was simply what people did. It was a farming country—working-class and traditional—a place where fitting in mattered more than standing out. From the outside, her childhood looked stable enough—there was always food on the table and a roof overhead—but inside, Kaycie carried a secret she didn’t yet have words for. By the age of three, she knew she was a girl, even though everyone around her insisted she was a boy. Each time she tried to say it out loud, she was told not to tell anyone. Shame settled in early and became a constant companion.
That shame taught Kaycie to hide and isolate. She hid in closets, in attics, in quiet corners at school, and later in alcohol. She avoided people, avoided attention, and avoided herself. Even with friends, she stayed guarded, never quite believing she belonged. As a teenager, she skipped her senior prom to get drunk instead. She told her mother she was going to the dance, then came home sick and ashamed, promising it would never happen again. It did.
After high school, she took a construction job, where drinking was practically a job requirement. Beer went from something she had on weekends to something that replaced soda. Over the years, her drinking steadily escalated. By the time she was in her forties, she was consuming twenty beers a day and organizing her life around making sure the refrigerator never ran empty. She lost jobs, fell behind on her mortgage, and lived with a constant low-grade despair and hopelessness.
Beneath the drinking was a deeper pain. Every morning, the first thought that crossed her mind was, “I’m a girl.” Every night, the last thought before sleep was the same. She spent decades trying to be a man. She never felt like dating women, even marrying one briefly, hoping that being “normal” would fix the ache inside her. It didn’t. The alcohol dulled the feelings, but it also amplified her hopelessness. Suicide became a nightly thought, especially when she drank. More than once, she later admitted, if a gun had been within reach, she might not have lived to tell her story. Living a lie was taking its toll.
In 2015, everything came to a head. Kaycie was months behind on her house payments. Her drinking was out of control. Her life felt like a dead end. She made a decision that felt like both a last resort and a lifeline: she would go to rehab. If nothing else, she told herself, it would be a forty-five-day vacation from the cold, miserable life she had built. She chose Palm Springs because it was warm and because, for the first time, she dared to imagine living somewhere she could eventually be herself and be accepted.
The rehab program was five weeks long. Detox was uncomfortable but manageable. What surprised her most was how quickly she felt connected to other people there. She listened to stories of addiction far worse than her own. People who had lived on the streets, who had lost everything. Instead of judging them, she felt humbled. For the first time, she began to take a real inventory of her life and experienced a glimmer of hope.
She also met a fellow alcoholic who would become her sponsor. He did not pressure her or shame her. He simply showed up, called her, and offered steady, solid support. It was new for Kaycie to let someone in like that, and she did not always do it well. She still struggled to ask for help.
When rehab ended, Kaycie flew back to Ohio to pack up her life. The moment she walked into her father’s house, she was hit by a familiar, overwhelming craving to drink. The urge scared her. Instead of going to Walmart for beer, she forced herself to find a local AA meeting. She arrived forty-five minutes late, certain it would be over. It was not. She walked in, sat down, and broke down sobbing. Seven strangers stayed late that night just for her. That small, unremarkable meeting saved her life.
Five weeks later, Kaycie packed a U-Haul and drove to Palm Springs and a new life. She stayed sober. She found work. She slowly began to live as her true self. The AA community became her anchor. Meetings gave her structure, connection, and a place where she did not have to pretend. She worked the steps, made amends where she could, and learned to practice acceptance.
Sobriety did not magically fix everything. Money was tight. Starting over was exhausting. Grief came when her father passed away. But Kaycie had tools now—meetings, a sponsor, and a sense of purpose. She went back to school, earned licenses, and eventually started her own business. Service in AA became central to her life.
Today, Kaycie is ten years sober. Her experience as a recovering alcoholic and trans woman has helped many newcomers, reminding us that no matter how far down the scale we have gone, experience can benefit others. She still struggles to ask for help and still battles old habits of isolation, but she no longer hides from herself.
For decades, Kaycie believed her life would never get better. Alcohol told her that hope was a lie. AA showed her something different: that change comes one honest conversation, one meeting, and one sober day at a time. Her journey was not easy, but it was real. And for the first time in her life, she is not just surviving. She is living full of hope.
Kaycie, Palm Springs, CA
As narrated to Vincent B - Newsletter Volunteer
ICYPAA CONFERENCE - September 4-6, 2026 Grand Rapids, MI
The first things I noticed upon arriving at the 66th annual ICYPAA Conference in Grand Rapids, MI were the availability of friendly and helpful humans, superb signage and the absolutely beautiful and spacious venue.
Upon checking in at registration and receiving my lanyard, I was guided to the designated GaL-AA table where I was met with a warm smile and hug from Christy, who identified herself as the conference LGBTQ+ Outreach Chair. Our shared table was positioned within the middle of the herd, and colorfully covered with flyers, buttons, candies, bookmarks and cards representing GaL-AA and regional LGBTQ+ sober resources.
Hundreds of people stopped by our table over the course of the weekend. Few had ever heard of GaL-AA and so many were eager to ask questions, sign up, take swag to pay forward at their hometown meetings - and share their sobriety stories with me. The representation of our entire queer community was awe-inspiring. And, I deeply appreciated the personal connections made with folks from Michigan, Colorado, Wisconsin, Illinois, Utah, California, Georgia and Indiana.
No matter the date on your birth certificate or AA coins collected to date, everyone should attend at least one YPAA conference. The infectious energy and inclusive spirit is alive and well. Rule 62 is practiced around the clock, and all ages/young at heart are welcomed. I thank the 66th annual ICYPAA Committee for allowing GaL-AA to be present, and I congratulate you on one of the most well-organized conferences I’ve ever attended.
Julie B.
Milwaukee, WI
Carrying the Message from Behind the Walls
Thirteen and a half years ago, I came into Alcoholics Anonymous completely broken. I was the alcoholic who would leave the hospital, call the person who had called the ambulance for me, curse them out, and then go out drinking all night. By the time I crawled into AA, I was on a liver transplant list and still couldn’t stop drinking.
My last night drinking was so bad that I honestly didn’t think I would wake up. I was afraid to wake my husband and tell him I needed to go to the hospital one more time. All I could think was, “I’m sorry for ruining his life.” So I closed my eyes and thought, “This is it.”
Waking up the next morning was my moment of grace. I prayed and cried out for help. I called a therapist I had seen years earlier when I first tried to get sober. I’m grateful she simply said, “Why don’t you try AA one more time?” I had the gift of desperation, and for the first time, I surrendered.
I surrendered to the Twelve Steps, to God, to listening, to doing things differently - and that surrender continues today. Because of AA and a Higher Power, my liver cancer is in remission and my name is off the transplant list. Grateful isn’t even close to how I feel. This program saved my life, and I want others to know that it works. One of the greatest gifts AA has given me is corrections service.
At one year sober, my sponsor told me he was going to Rikers Island and that I would be the speaker. I had learned to say yes to my sponsor, so I said yes! I was shaking in my pants but when I walked into that meeting, I realized it was just another AA meeting, only behind the walls. The men shared honestly, and when I left, I felt useful, humbled and deeply inspired. I’ve been doing corrections service ever since.
Today I have the privilege of taking meetings into city, state and federal facilities and participating in the General Service Office’s Corrections Correspondence Service. Writing to someone on the inside is a beautiful way to get involved. Sometimes a letter becomes a lifeline.
I have seen firsthand that AA reaches people anywhere. Through ‘Bridging the Gap’ and correspondence work, I’ve had the privilege of meeting people after their release, giving them their first Big Book, and watching them begin to sponsor others and chair meetings. That is the miracle of Alcoholics Anonymous.
I also have the privilege of helping facilitate an online LGBTQIA+ AA meeting for people in custody every Monday. Currently, participants from three Ohio prisons join us online. It may be one of the only LGBTQIA+ AA meetings for incarcerated people of its kind.
For many LGBTQIA+ alcoholics, feeling different, ashamed, or like they don’t belong has been part of our story. Yet AA reminds us that anyone with a desire to stop drinking is welcome here. The rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous bring together people who might never meet anywhere else. What connects us is our shared experience with alcoholism and the solution found in the Twelve Steps.
This month, for Pride 2026, friends from around the country are gathering in Ohio for a conference called Pride in Recovery. Together we’ll bring meetings, fellowship and hope into prisons. What a gift it is to share the message with our LGBTQIA+ community on the inside and remind them that they are important, they matter, and it is never too late to change.
One thing that has been especially meaningful is introducing incarcerated members to the Plain Language Big Book. Many people struggle with reading, literacy, learning differences, or simply understanding the language of the original text. The Plain Language Big Book opens doors. When people can understand the message more clearly, they can see themselves in it and begin to believe recovery is possible for them too.
Corrections work can sometimes be heartbreaking, but it is also one of the most rewarding experiences of my sobriety. Nothing jumpstarts or energizes my recovery like this service. I have witnessed hundreds of people on the inside praying together, sharing honestly and helping one another recover. I have seen hope where many people would least expect to find it.
We need more volunteers. You don’t have to have been incarcerated to do this work, I wasn’t. If you’re fearful, that’s okay. Most of us were at first. The fear lifts as we remember why we’re there: to carry a message of hope.
To walk into a jail or prison and tell another alcoholic, “You matter. You are important. Recovery is possible,” is one of the greatest privileges of my life.
Alcoholics Anonymous gave me a second chance. Corrections service gives me the opportunity to pass that gift on. If you would like to join us for the online LGBTQIA+ meeting for persons in custody please reach out to internationalcorrections@gmail.com for information.
Scotty B.
Area 49 NYC
Voices of Sobriety
GaL-AA is excited to continue our monthly column: Voices of Sobriety.
One of the greatest strengths of Alcoholics Anonymous is the collective experience of its members. Every day, newcomers and long-time members alike face questions, challenges, and situations that can seem overwhelming when faced alone. Yet, within our fellowship are countless stories, insights, and lessons learned that can help light the way.
Each month, the Newsletter Committee will present a sobriety-related question or situation that reflects the unique experiences of LGBTQI+ people in recovery. Readers will be invited to share their thoughts, experience, strength, and hope through a simple online form. Responses will be limited to approximately 200 words, making it easy for members to participate regardless of writing experience.
Selected responses will be featured in future editions of Spotlight On Sobriety, allowing our members to learn from one another and hear a variety of perspectives on common recovery topics.
This month's question:
To give your answer, click question above
Have you faced a recovery challenge that you think others could benefit from discussing? Have a question you wish someone had answered when you were new? We want to hear from you. Please submit ideas for future topics here
As a small token of appreciation, members whose responses or suggested questions are selected for publication will receive a GaL-AA bookmark. We look forward to hearing from you through Voices of Sobriety.
Spotlight On Sobriety features personal stories, articles, and reflections submitted by members and friends of the fellowship. The views expressed are those of the individual authors and do not necessarily represent those of Alcoholics Anonymous or GaL-AA. To contact us send an email to: SpotlightOnSobriety@gal-aa.org Statement of Inclusion GaL-AA exists to serve all LGBTQ+ people in Alcoholics Anonymous, regardless of how they self-identify, and we welcome and support every member of the AA Fellowship.
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