Returning Citizens Anonymous (RCA)

12 steps

For those transitioning from a jail cell to community life

1. We admitted that the habits, systems, and survival tactics we used while incarcerated no longer served us in free society—and that continuing to live by them would keep us stuck.

2. Came to believe that a greater way of life, beyond the cage and the past, could restore our dignity, direction, and ability to live free on the inside and out.

3. Made a decision to turn our will and lives over to the care of this greater purpose—as we began to understand what freedom truly means.

4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves—not just what we did, but what we needed, what we lost, and what we still hoped for.

5. Admitted to ourselves, to another human being, and to a power greater than us the exact nature of our wounds, our survival, and our wrongdoing.

6. Became entirely ready to let go of the hardened parts of ourselves that kept us trapped, even after the doors had opened.

7. Humbly asked to be freed from the mental cages and emotional chains that still defined our reactions and beliefs.

8. Made a list of all those we had harmed—including ourselves—and became willing to make things right, one day at a time.

9. Made direct amends wherever possible, except when to do so would cause further harm or violate the healing process.

10. Continued to take personal inventory and, when we found ourselves slipping into old survival patterns, promptly admitted it and chose a new path.

11. Sought through prayer, meditation, or quiet reflection to improve our connection with purpose, asking only for clarity and strength to live free and do right.

12. Having experienced the internal shift from prisoner to person of value, we carried this message to others like us and practiced these principles in all our affairs.

13th Step Safeguard

• “In Mo’s Anonymous, we recognize that trauma can confuse connection. No member shall use their position, influence, or vulnerability of others for romantic, sexual, or manipulative gain—especially within sponsorship or early reentry. This space is sacred for healing, not hunting.”

• This is not just a warning; it’s a covenant of safety, rooted in respect for each other's healing. Any violations are not overlooked or minimized—they’re addressed firmly and with collective integrity.

12 Traditions

1. Our common purpose—reclaiming dignity after time served—comes first. Personal freedom is strengthened by shared responsibility.

2. For our group purpose, there is but one ultimate authority: the truth that sets us free. Our leaders are trusted servants—they do not govern.

3. The only requirement for membership is a desire to move forward without shame, secrecy, or self-sabotage.

4. Each Mo’s group is autonomous except in matters affecting other groups or the fellowship as a whole.

5. Each group has but one primary purpose: to carry this message of hope and healing to Mo’s still struggling with the cage—within or without.

6. A Mo’s group never endorses outside institutions or enterprises, lest money or influence divert us from our mission.

7. Every group should be self-supporting, declining outside contributions. We honor value by not placing a price on freedom.

8. Mo’s Anonymous remains forever nonprofessional, but our service may employ others in supportive or administrative roles.

9. We organize only as much as needed to serve our purpose, never to control people.

10. Mo’s Anonymous has no opinion on outside issues; hence the name ought never be drawn into public controversy.

11. Our public relations policy is based on attraction rather than promotion; we maintain personal anonymity at the level of press, radio, and social media.

12. Anonymity is the spiritual foundation of all our traditions, reminding us to place principles before personalities.

12 Promises

If we are honest, humble, and willing...

1. We will begin to walk free, even in places that used to trigger us.

2. The street won’t feel like a threat—we’ll feel we belong again.

3. We will rebuild trust with others and, most importantly, with ourselves.

4. The system may still exist, but it won’t own our mind anymore.

5. The mask we wore to survive will fall off—we’ll breathe real air.

6. New ways of coping will replace old patterns of reacting.

7. We will sleep with less paranoia and wake up with more purpose.

8. We will forgive ourselves without forgetting who we were.

9. What once felt like permanent damage will now feel like planted seed.

10. We will stop defining freedom by gates—and start defining it by grace.

11. We will learn to let others in, even slowly, without fear of being used.

12. We will carry a quiet strength that no institution can take away again.

Slogans

Acronyms

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🔄 Short Explanation of Each Step

1. Admission of Truth Survival mindset kept us alive—but now it keeps us stuck. We admit that what worked in a cage doesn’t serve us in a community.

2. Belief in a Greater Path We come to believe that healing and reintegration are possible, even if we’ve never seen it done before.

3. Decision to Trust Growth We let go of control and open ourselves to a new direction—even if we don't yet understand it.

4. Inventory of Our Lives We dig deep. Not to shame, but to see. What molded us? What hurt us? What habits did we take with us?

5. Confession of Truth We speak our story out loud. No more hiding. It’s not for pity. It’s for power.

6. Readiness to Evolve We let ourselves change. We stop clinging to the image we had to maintain inside.

7. Requesting Internal Release We ask for freedom from the traits we thought were necessary, but are now holding us back.

8. Willingness to Repair We list who we’ve harmed—including ourselves—and become willing to set things right.

9. Making Amends We do what we can to repair the wreckage—respectfully, wisely, and when possible.

10. Ongoing Check-ins

We stay self-aware. When we slip, we don’t spiral—we own it, correct it, and move on.

11. Daily Connection

We build a quiet relationship with purpose, prayer, or peace—whatever centers us.

12. Giving It Away

We help others like us—those still stuck in the mindset, even if they’re not in the cell.

Would you like this formatted into a pamphlet-style doc, or would you like to build out a workbook version next (with questions, meditations, or meeting topics)?

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📖 Chapter 1: Freedom Ain’t Just Being Released

Here is a rewritten version of Chapter 1 of the Alcoholics Anonymous book—reflected through the lens of Mo’s Anonymous, written in the voice and experience of someone who has done time, survived the system, and is now learning how to live truly free on the outside.

📖 Chapter 1: Freedom Ain’t Just Being Released

I never thought the cell would change me. I thought I’d do my time, come out the same person I was before—just older, maybe a little more tired. But what I didn’t expect was how much of the cell I’d carry with me. The doors opened, but I was still locked up. That’s where this story begins—not at my release, but at the moment I realized freedom had to happen inside me, not just around me.

Out there, I walked with my chest puffed up. I kept that same hard look I had in the yard. I called it survival. I called it street-smarts. But deep down, I was still flinching. Still waiting for something to go wrong. Still checking exits in every room. Still waiting for someone to betray me. I couldn't even feel joy—just numbness and suspicion.

I used to think only weak men asked for help. So I stayed silent. And that silence almost killed me. I kept replaying the old life: the fights, the deals, the ways I had to posture just to stay safe. But out here, that same energy pushed people away. I couldn’t keep a job. I couldn’t hold relationships. I was free, but I felt more like a ghost than a man.

One day, I sat at a meeting. I wasn’t even sure what it was about—just knew someone else who’d been down said I should check it out. A guy stood up and shared something I’ll never forget:

“We don’t come here because we’re broken. We come because we’re done pretending we aren’t.”

That hit me. I had spent my whole life pretending I was fine, pretending I had it under control. But I didn’t. Not when I walked out of that gate. Not when I tried to sleep with one eye open. Not when I saw my kids and didn’t know how to talk to them without guilt burning through me. I didn’t need a new hustle—I needed a new way to be human.

That’s when I found this path. Mo’s Anonymous.

It ain’t a religious thing. It’s not a court program. It’s a place where people like me—who’ve known the sound of keys jangling down a tier, who’ve seen the sunrise through bars—come to figure out how to live free. I didn’t think it would work. But I was desperate enough to try.

Step by step, something changed. Not overnight. Not loud. Quiet. Like learning how to breathe again. Like seeing yourself without shame for the first time.

I started telling my truth. I started asking for help. I started seeing that my past didn’t disqualify me from peace—it trained me to appreciate it.

I’m still not perfect. I still catch myself bracing for punches that aren’t coming. But I know now that survival doesn’t have to be my default. I’m not at war anymore. And every day I get to walk free—truly free—is a day worth showing up for.

If you’ve done time, if the system got in your bones, if you’re tired of walking around with invisible shackles—this space is for you.

We are Mo’s. We’ve Moved On. But we didn’t leave ourselves behind—we’re learning to bring ourselves forward.

Let me know if you want this expanded into the full chapter structure (with dialogue, additional stories, or references to AA’s “Bill’s Story” style), or if you’d like Chapter 2 (“There Is a Solution”) adapted next.

📖 Chapter 2: There Is a Way Out — But It Ain’t the Old Way

Absolutely. Here is Chapter 2 of Mo’s Anonymous, written as a reflection of "There Is a Solution" from the AA Big Book — but grounded in the real-life transition from incarceration to freedom, with rawness, clarity, and hope for those navigating reentry.

📖 Chapter 2: There Is a Way Out — But It Ain’t the Old Way

Most of us thought getting out would be the solution. That once we stepped past the gates or got that parole signed, life would start fresh. But for many of us, freedom brought confusion, not peace. The rules changed. The world moved on. And we were left trying to translate jail habits into a world that didn’t operate by those codes anymore.

For a long time, we thought we just needed a job, a place to sleep, maybe someone who wouldn't judge us for where we’ve been. But even when we got those things, it still felt like we were walking around with a hundred-pound weight on our chest. We still snapped when we didn’t need to. We still watched our backs in public. We still struggled to trust. Some of us started using. Others used control. But the truth is, we were scared to be seen. We didn’t know how to be soft without being weak.

That’s the problem we all had in common.

Not just a record. Not just trauma. But the deep and lingering fear that we were still stuck in a system—even if it wasn’t the state doing the sentencing anymore. We carried our own judge, jury, and executioner in our heads. We were still punishing ourselves.

Here’s the real truth:

This isn’t just about adjusting to society. It’s about healing the part of us that got rewired to survive instead of live.

We’ve seen it in each other. A look across the room, and you just know. That brother knows what it’s like to eat cold meals behind locked doors. That sister knows what it’s like to be forgotten by family and the system. That person knows what it’s like to be released and feel homeless in your own skin.

But we’ve also seen something else: There is a way out. A real one. Not just freedom of movement. Freedom of mind. Freedom of soul.

We’ve found peace—not because our charges disappeared, not because our record got sealed—but because we stopped hiding from ourselves. We started showing up. We started speaking truth. We started letting ourselves be known without needing to defend every inch of our past.

And when that happens—when one Mo shares openly, and another nods with knowing—you realize something big:

We are not alone. We were never alone.

There’s no one-size-fits-all method to recovery from incarceration, but there is a path. A set of principles. A way of living that helps us make peace with what was, build strength in what is, and have hope for what can be.

This isn’t some clean, polished program. It’s real. It’s raw. But it works.

We don’t shame here. We don’t posture. We don’t pretend to be better than we are.

We come together to practice freedom with each other before we try to force it into the world outside.

We’ve sat in the same seats. We’ve lost time. Lost friends. Lost pieces of ourselves.

But here, we gain something back.

We find:

• Community that gets it.

• Conversations that restore.

• Principles that guide us.

• And the quiet confidence that we don’t need to be who we were to belong where we are.

So what’s the solution?

It’s not a formula. It’s a fellowship. It’s not escape. It’s engagement. It’s not denial. It’s dignity.

It’s Mo’s Anonymous.

And if you’re tired of just “being out” and want to start living out, this door is open too. No locks. No guards. Just growth.

Would you like to move into Chapter 3: More About Mo’s or build a story-driven chapter modeled after one of the original personal stories in the back of the AA Big Book, but from the perspective of a returning citizen?

📖 Chapter 3: More About Mo’s

Here is Chapter 3 of Mo’s Anonymous, modeled after AA’s “More About Alcoholism” — but now reframed as “More About Mo’s” — continuing the honest tone of lived experience, dignity, and raw truth for those transitioning from incarceration into life outside the system.

📖 Chapter 3: More About Mo’s

Not everyone who gets out makes it out.

If you're reading this, maybe you’ve tried to do better. You told yourself this time would be different. You weren’t going back. You had plans. You had fire in your belly. But then something happened—a job fell through, someone crossed you, or your mind got loud—and the streets started whispering again.

Some of us didn’t even realize we were slipping. We just thought we were surviving. Hustling a little. Lying to a PO. Cutting corners. Staying numb. Is that really so wrong?

But here's what we came to learn, often the hard way:

Freedom doesn’t come from the absence of bars—it comes from the presence of purpose.

Many of us had to fail—again—before we were willing to admit that just being out wasn't enough. We thought if we kept things together on the outside, the inside would catch up. But the truth is, no amount of “staying out of trouble” ever fixed the trouble that lived inside us.

It wasn’t just about breaking laws. It was about breaking trust—with others and ourselves. Every time we told ourselves, “I got this,” and then messed up again, it chipped away at our belief that we could actually change. That’s what we call the Mo’s madness:

Doing the time. Getting the release. And still thinking like we’re locked up.

We’ve seen people go back to prison physically. We’ve seen others who never re-offended but still lived like inmates emotionally. Either way, that ain’t freedom. That’s a silent sentence.

So what do we do instead?

First, we stop lying to ourselves. We stop saying things like:

• “I’m good. I just need to get on my feet.”

• “I don’t need help. I just need a break.”

• “People don’t understand what I’ve been through.”

The truth is: some people do understand. That’s what this is about. You’re not the only one who’s felt out of place at a family dinner, wondering how to talk about your past. You’re not the only one who’s checked your rearview mirror more than your future. You’re not the only one who’s felt like they’re always one mistake away from it all crumbling again.

We’ve been there. Some of us still are. But we’re walking this out together.

This fellowship isn’t for perfect people. It’s for those who know the cage, and now want to know peace. We don’t come here to compare charges. We come here to compare choices—because the ones we make now can either keep us free or drag us back into old chains.

The reason Mo’s Anonymous works isn’t because we figured out some shortcut. It works because we got honest enough to admit:

• We couldn’t do it alone.

• We couldn’t fake it anymore.

• We couldn’t keep using jail habits to try and build a free life.

When we say we’ve moved on, we don’t mean we forgot what happened. We mean we’re not letting it define us anymore.

We are Mo’s—people who Moved On, but stayed real. We’re not running from our past—we’re walking through it toward something better.

If you’re still out here trying to make it work your way and it keeps falling apart… maybe it’s time to stop asking, “What’s wrong with me?” And start asking:

“What’s still locked up inside me?”

Because the truth is, you don’t need another sentence. You need a solution. And you’re not alone anymore.

Would you like to continue with Chapter 4: We Mo’s Make the Shift (modeled after “We Agnostics”)—focusing on rebuilding trust in something greater than yourself—or dive into one of the personal stories from a fictional Mo to show how these steps come alive in real life?