Supporting Your Fellow Survivors

Isn’t It Time To Support Others?

In the fellowship of Alcoholics Anonymous, the act of reaching out to support others, especially on holidays, is not just common; it is a deeply ingrained, almost sacred part of the recovery process.

It is an unspoken rule that after enjoying a Christmas dinner with family, a member will make their way to a meeting, not for their own needs, but to be there for those who are struggling. This behavior is the living embodiment of the Twelfth Step: carrying the message to the alcoholic who still suffers. The understanding is that sobriety is a fragile gift, maintained through service and connection. On days steeped in emotional triggers like Christmas, loneliness and temptation are amplified, making the presence of a supportive community a literal lifeline. The veteran member who shows up simply to say “I’m here, you’re not alone” is performing an act of profound compassion that reinforces the entire foundation of the fellowship. This culture of selfless service creates a powerful, self-sustaining ecosystem of care where everyone is both a potential supporter and someone in need of support.

In stark contrast, this same ethic of proactive, communal outreach is rarely seen within the world of scam survivors.

While support groups and communities exist and are filled with individuals offering sympathy and advice, the dynamic is fundamentally different. The default position is often one of reactive, inward-focused support rather than proactive, outward-looking service. A survivor is more likely to post about their own pain and wait for responses than to actively seek out others in the group who are silent and struggling. The reasons for this chasm are complex and rooted in the nature of the traumas themselves. Alcoholism is widely recognized as a disease, a malady of the mind and body, which allows for a clearer, more unified identity. Scam victimhood, however, is mired in a thick fog of shame and self-blame. The victim feels not just violated but foolish, a feeling that breeds secrecy and a reluctance to identify as part of a “suffering class.”

Furthermore, the recovery processes are structured differently. AA provides a clear, actionable program with a built-in service component. The Twelve Steps are a roadmap that explicitly guides a person from personal healing to outward service. Scam recovery lacks such a codified, universally accepted framework. It is a more nebulous journey of emotional processing, practical damage control, and education. Without a clear directive to “carry the message,” the survivor’s energy is consumed by navigating their own legal, financial, and emotional devastation. The very act of reaching out to another can feel re-traumatizing, as it requires re-engaging with the painful details of the crime. While the AA member sees their service as a source of strength, the scam survivor often sees it as a potential drain on their already depleted emotional reserves. This creates a community where support is given when asked, but the proactive, holiday-meeting spirit of “I’ve got your back” remains tragically elusive.

Overcoming this profound distance requires a conscious, collective shift in mindset, where survivors begin to see their own healing as intrinsically linked to the healing of others. The first step is to reframe service not as a drain on depleted resources, but as a vital source of strength and purpose. It starts small: instead of waiting for a cry for help, a survivor can learn to notice the silence. A simple, private message to a member who has been quiet for a few days, saying “Thinking of you, no need to reply,” can be a powerful act of validation. Communities can create structured opportunities for this, like a “buddy system” or designated “check-in” days, especially around holidays. By sharing their own stories of resilience, not just the pain, but the small victories, survivors provide a living roadmap for those still lost in the fog. The transformation happens when a survivor realizes that by extending a hand to pull someone else up, they are not just giving away their strength; they are anchoring themselves more firmly to their own recovery, building a bridge of shared humanity across the isolating chasm of shame.

Prof. Tim McGuinness, Ph.D.
December 2025