Saint John Henry Newman’s distinction between notional and real knowledge offers profound insights for the journey of recovery as an adult child of a dysfunctional home. Recovery, much like Newman’s view of the Christian life, involves moving from a theoretical understanding of past trauma and dysfunction (notional knowledge) to a deep, lived experience of healing and transformation (real knowledge). Newman’s theology helps us understand that genuine recovery is not just an intellectual process but a personal, experiential journey toward wholeness.
In the early stages of my own recovery, I began to grasp the dysfunction in my upbringing on an intellectual level. I learned about the effects of growing up in a broken, dysfunctional home through books, therapy, and Alateen. This kind of knowledge was notional—where I understood concepts like codependency, emotional neglect, and perfectionism as reasons for certain behaviors or defense mechanisms. I could see the patterns in my family: the way abandonment by my natural father and my step father’s rage and alcoholism affected my self-worth, the subtle cues I picked up to maintain peace, and the strategies I used to avoid confrontation and keep everyone happy.
However, while these insights were valuable, they remained theoretical. I had the vocabulary to describe what was wrong and could identify unhealthy patterns, but this understanding did not yet transform my day-to-day experience. I could speak fluently about the impacts of an alcoholic or emotionally detached parent, but I still felt emotionally isolated, striving for perfection as a way to gain approval and control in my life. It was only when I moved from notional knowledge to real, lived transformation that true healing began.
True healing, as Newman suggests, requires moving from an intellectual understanding to the deeper, lived experience of recovery. Real knowledge in my recovery came through engaging with the emotional and spiritual journey firsthand. This is where transformation happened, and recovery became more than just an abstract process.
For me, this shift started as I attended Adult Child Recovery meetings and took the Steps seriously. I remember feeling nervous and vulnerable in the early meetings. It was as though I could see the dysfunction clearly, but stepping into the unknown terrain of emotional healing felt terrifying. Yet, as I listened to others share their stories—echoes of my own hidden pain—I realized I wasn’t alone. This was the beginning of real knowledge: moving from isolated analysis of my trauma to shared, lived experience.
Real knowledge grew further when I began working one-on-one with a recovery partner. I can recall the first time I felt the freedom of saying things out loud that I’d held in for decades. It was as though a weight I didn’t even realize I was carrying began to lift. Slowly, through personal stories, shared breakthroughs, and the support of recovery friends, the intellectual insights have begun to turn into real change. Today I find myself choosing healthier patterns, learning to express my needs without guilt, and—hardest of all—experiencing emotional release after years of repression. It is a transformative process that requires commitment, courage, and grace.
Newman’s emphasis on real knowledge as something that changes how we live out our faith directly relates to recovery. For me, real knowledge in recovery meant that insights about my past didn’t just stay in the realm of thought—they became the foundation for new ways of living. I have noticed the shift in small but meaningful ways: setting boundaries, asserting my needs, and letting go of the perfectionism that once defined me. This is where I experience Newman’s principle firsthand: real knowledge must lead to action.
There was a time when my perfectionism showed up as over-preparation and a fear of making mistakes in every small task I took on. Recently, when sorting through old family photos as part of my downsizing process, I felt that same compulsion to get everything perfect. But this time, I paused, reminded myself that I didn’t need to control everything, and chose to let go. The photos didn’t have to be organized flawlessly; they were a part of my life’s story, imperfections and all. This shift wasn’t just an intellectual decision; it was a lived experience of moving from shame to acceptance—true real knowledge.
For Newman, grace is essential for transformation in the Christian life, and it’s just as essential in recovery. Grace can manifest in many ways, from encountering God’s love to receiving support from others. Often, real healing feels like grace, as it goes beyond what can be achieved through willpower alone. I saw this vividly during a particularly challenging season when I was tasked with reading through old journals to create a Spiritual Life Map. I wanted to power through and “fix” myself, but I kept hitting walls of grief and anger.
It was only when I allowed myself to stop striving and accepted where I was that grace began to flow. A moment of surrender—praying honestly, “I don’t know how to move forward, but I trust that I’m not alone”—opened a door for deeper healing. In the days that followed, I found unexpected comfort and clarity, both in prayer and in the support of my Catholic in Recovery/ACDH community. It felt like God’s grace meeting me where I was, rather than where I thought I should be. Grace enabled me to let go of control and trust the process, bringing real healing that went far beyond my efforts.
Just as Newman believes real knowledge is necessary for authentic Christian faith, recovery offers real knowledge of oneself and God. In the past, I had notional knowledge of who I was—daughter, wife, mother, and a peacemaker who kept things together. But real knowledge came when I began to see myself not as a collection of roles or reactions, but as a person beloved by God and worthy of healing. This shift, from notional to real knowledge, is ongoing. It deepens every time I choose to see myself through the eyes of grace rather than through the lens of my past.
Today, when I catch myself falling into old habits—seeking approval or feeling unworthy—I remember that real knowledge of self is about knowing and believing the truth of who I am in God’s eyes. I am more than my trauma—more than the dysfunction I grew up with. This real knowledge of self, rooted in grace, is not just an idea. It is an experience of being loved, healed, and truly transformed. It is a daily encounter that continues to shape my journey.
In Newman’s view, true faith and true recovery are not static—they are lived experiences that change us from the inside out. For me, moving from notional to real knowledge in recovery has been a path to deeper healing, where grace meets me in my brokenness and leads me into wholeness, one day at a time.
Born and raised Catholic, Chloe is an adult child of alcoholics who recently rediscovered the beauty of 12-step recovery through attending Adult Children of Alcoholics (ACA) and Catholic in Recovery meetings. For many years, Chloe was an Evangelical Christian before the Blessed Mother, the saints, and the witness of a dear friend eventually drew her back to the Catholic faith.