Debtors Anonymous lends aid to those digging out from bills

Every Saturday morning, about a dozen men and women gather in a white-walled room at Northwestern Memorial Hospital in Chicago to discuss their painful addiction. Members of Debtors Anonymous, their drugs of choice are typically credit cards.

"I was in a fantasy world with a piece of plastic that tells me how great I am," a 46-year-old Chicago woman named Chris confesses during a meeting, describing compulsive shopping sprees at Christmas. "Then the reality strikes a month later."

Jeff talks about hitting rock bottom when he owed about $27,000 in student loans, another $10,000 on a high-interest credit card and $4,000 to a doctor. Mike faces a similar financial load, and a newcomer to the group, a middle-age Chicago woman, discusses her overspending and bouts with severe depression.

The reasons for attending DA meetings run the gamut. Some participants consider themselves part of the 23.6 million people who have a compulsive shopping disorder, according to a Stanford University study. Others cite upcoming weddings, job loss, lingering college loans or depression.

The meetings start with a moment of silence, followed by a nondenominational prayer and the association's preamble, in which members all admit, "We were debtors and could not manage our lives."

Debtors Anonymous, a nationwide 12-step nonprofit program similar in approach to Alcoholics Anonymous, holds weekly meetings across the country, in suburbs and cities, in affluent and poor areas. The sessions serve as both confessional and classroom. Dozens of pamphlets are available, with information on managing both money and the emotional struggle that comes with debt.

Participants are encouraged to share their stories. During the open-discussion period, members share tales of hope and desperation. They also share tips for saving money, streamlining a budget and dealing with credit cards. They exchange phone numbers and e-mail addresses, so when someone needs to talk or write, they'll know where to start.

Chris, a computer programmer, tells of her difficult youth, attaining credit cards in her college years and the two-decade battle she's fought since. She recounts how on Christmas Eve in 1989, she had her credit card confiscated at a gas station. "It was humiliating," she says.

She likens holiday spending to overeating, then says, "Come January, everyone is in the gym."

Chris has been attending DA for 10 years and believes the worst has passed. She ends her 20-minute story to a round of applause. "I'm really grateful to be here," she says.

Next to enter the discussion is a newcomer, who outlines her lifelong roller-coaster ride of overspending. As she talks, her eyes are focused on the table in front of her. She says she has hit the ceiling of a low-paying middle-management job.

Her meager income combined with her chronic overspending is the root of her trouble, she says. She doesn't splurge on luxuries but still finds herself behind in her monthly bank statements.

Mike says he owes about $10,000 to a credit-card company. For several years, he says, he has been able to pay off only interest on the charges.

Although filing for personal bankruptcy isn't an option recommended by DA, an increasing number of people are doing so, experts say.

Information

Debtors Anonymous meetings in Washington state: www.dawashstate.org/meetings.htm

Debtors Anonymous Web site: http://debtorsanonymous.org/

More than 2 million consumers, a record, filed for bankruptcy in 2005, according to Lundquist Consulting, a bankruptcy-analysis firm based in Middlesex, N.Y. That's a 31 percent increase from 2004.

The surge also coincides with a new bankruptcy law, enacted in October, which created a "means test" and added more steps to the filing process.

"I never had a lot of money. I was paying for school, therapy, buying stuff," says Jeff, 39, of North Chicago. "I was always thinking I'm going to get a great job and get out of this mess."

About five years ago, after bouncing in and out of similar 12-step programs for other addictions, Jeff attended a DA meeting. He discussed his crushing debts. "I thought about taking myself out."

He means suicide. "We hear it all the time at the meetings," he says.

Jeff appears at ease, confident in himself and his debt, which has been cut nearly in half. He speaks with a soothing voice.

"The program gives you the tools to make conscious decisions," he says. "We set up a vision of what we want our lives to look like ... where we want to live, what we want to do. The idea is to pay off our debts, but also to take care of ourselves.

"Not everyone has to hit a bottom as low as I did," he later says. "It's important to get help."