The whole week was a challenge- is this process similar to the AA 12 steps?

I've been thinking about how my ED left a stuffed bunny behind when she was kidnapped, returned, and then left me as a fully enraged Goth teen to live with her father, and the streets of NJ, with heroin, sex, incest, and rock and roll all waiting to swallow up her soul.When my 24 ED visited for 2 1/2 days a month ago (the first time in years), she agreed to take some boxes of belongings I'd saved for her.  Instead of taking them, she started tearing them apart, swearing and grabbing things she wanted, and leaving a big mess on the floor.  She started ranting at me behind my back to my second husband.  As I walked in, she had her hands on this stuffed bunny, still attached to the package.  I'd always wondered about that.  I'd never bought it for her back then, and only assumed that her father had purchased it, among a whole roomful of Daddy loves little girl kind of junk.  She grabbed the bunny and told my husband, gleefully "And this is where I used to hide my drugs from my Mom!"  All I could think of was that she had to have stolen it from a NJ store because I kept a very close eye on her when she was with me in NH.  The bunny had safety pins pinned from its nose to its head, with safety pins impaling its mouth all the way across. She had inscribed "I HATE MY LIFE" in permanent ink on the front, and even painted the eyes with wild swirls in the eyes.  On the back, it was open, with the stuffing coming out.  She had tied this back with more safety pins.  I was shocked.  I had no idea she hid drugs in the back of the bunny at the age of 11-12!!!!???? It freaked me out, and after she left, I just cried and cried for that bunny.  Looking at it made me sick to my stomach.  After a few days, I was able to bring it up to my room and look at it.  I began to see a chance to transform that bunny in a way that would be giving love back to myself as a mother.  I've decided to transform the bunny into something beautiful, as if I adopted it from a kennel, and would heal its wounds myself.  In the end, I hope that I will have a new stuffed animal that will be mine, something that I could heal.  In the back, I plan to put some paper hearts covered with messages and inspirations to myself as a mother (not to my daughter, because the person I used to know is gone). Yesterday, I reached deep inside the back of the bunny. I found a quarter of a condom.  Was this meant as a message to me? Did she prostitute herself as early as 11 or 12? Was she just head gaming me all along? All these questions started swirling, and then I thought of AA.
In some ways, AA, and the 12 steps, seems to reflect the process of radical acceptance, regardless of the negative consequences that our future actions have on ourselves, and others. Some choose alcohol- some choose the drug of false hope, in believing that the beautiful child we once had is the same, and that somehow, with nurturing, or bargaining, or getting mad and ranting at the adult kid, we might get the him/her back that we raised.  Instead of naming myself as a really good parent, regardless of where my kid, there's always this sense of waiting, of hoping, and of bargaining with ourselves and thinking of them in our heads as personalities in the waiting, not who they really are.I'm going to ask AA if they allow people like me into the group, and try to follow the 12 steps.