Answer Addiction

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  • How "Wired" Betrayed John Belushi's Legacy and Misportrayed Addiction

    How "Wired" Betrayed John Belushi's Legacy and Misportrayed Addiction

    While Belushi’s family and friends would prefer that “Wired” be forgotten, the book provides a fascinating glimpse into how we didn’t understand addiction and harshly judged people who struggled with it.

    “Woodward – that cocksucker!”

    You can’t blame Jim Belushi for being upset. In fact, many of John Belushi’s friends and family members were infuriated with the book Wired, which was written by Bob Woodward, the legendary Watergate reporter.

    Published by Simon and Schuster two years after Belushi’s death from an overdose, Wired was a stark and frightening portrait of drug addiction, but those close to Belushi felt its focus was too narrow, that it didn’t contain any of Belushi’s humanity or good qualities. Woodward put together the cold hard facts of Belushi’s addiction and piled up a number of horror stories, without capturing the whole picture of who the man really was.

    “Exploitation, pulp trash” – Dan Akroyd Describing Wired

    A swift counter attack on the book came from Belushi’s widow, Judy Jacklin. Dan Aykroyd denounced the book as “exploitation, pulp trash,” and Al Franken told Variety, “I hated Woodward’s book because I don’t believe he made an honest attempt to understand John, who despite his sometimes gruff exterior was a gentle soul. My former partner Tom Davis put it this way: ‘It’s as if someone did your college yearbook and called it ‘Puked.’ And all it did was say who puked, when they puked and what they puked. But no one learned any history, read Dostoevsky for the first time, or fell in love.’”

    The controversy made Wired a major best-seller, and the people close to Belushi, who spent untold hours telling all to Woodward, felt burned and betrayed. Woodward was seemingly befuddled by the controversy, and many found his obtuseness infuriating. Woodward told People he was sorry that Jacklin was upset, but “what is important is that Judy is not alleging inaccuracy.”

    While Belushi’s family and friends would prefer that Wired be forgotten, the book provides a fascinating glimpse into how many of us, like Woodward, didn’t understand the nature of addiction and harshly judged people who struggled with it.

    Today, the rise and fall of John Belushi would be written differently, and much more sympathetically.

    Robin Williams once joked that if you remember the seventies, you weren’t there. Not only was it an exciting time for comedy, but many in the entertainment business were out of their minds on cocaine. No one thought the high times would ever end.

    Belushi: A Regular Guy Who Became a Star

    John Belushi was a regular guy who became a star, thanks to the success of Saturday Night Live and Animal House. He was relatable and appealing. The public loved him.

    But his private life was more complicated. Belushi could be brusque and awful, and like many people with addiction, there was a terrible Mr. Hyde that came out when he used. But just as frequently he was kind, decent, and generous.

    Despite his talent and confidence as a performer, offstage Belushi was vulnerable and unsure of himself. Bernie Brillstein, Belushi’s manager, once said that the comedian was “sometimes good, sometimes bad, sometimes in need of a swift kick in the ass, more often in need of a hug.”

    When Belushi died at age 33, it shocked the public. In the pre-internet, pre-TMZ eighties, Belushi’s addiction to cocaine and heroin was mostly hidden from the public. 

    Belushi’s death hit hard. He was a major counterculture hero and a whole generation felt the loss. It was also a big indicator that the seventies were finally over. As Paul Schrader, screenwriter of Taxi Driver and American Gigolo, told journalist Peter Biskind, “The game was up. Some people quit right away, but the feeling was, the rules have changed.”

    In the world of journalism, Bob Woodward was a major star in his own right. He came from the same hometown as Belushi, Wheaton, Illinois, and his reporting on Watergate turned him and his partner Carl Bernstein into household names. He was portrayed by Robert Redford in the big screen adaptation of All the President’s Men, further cementing his legendary status.

    Was His Death a Sting Operation Gone Bad?

    As a political writer, drugs and the Hollywood fast lane were not in Woodward’s usual wheelhouse, but when Judy Jacklin reached out shortly after her husband’s death, he was intrigued. Jacklin felt there was more to her husband’s death than a simple drug overdose, and she believed Woodward, who was already admired by the counterculture for bringing down Nixon, could get to the bottom of it.

    Michael Dare, a former dealer and film critic who knew Belushi well, started asking around to find out what happened. There was apparently a rumor going around that Belushi’s death was “a sting operation gone bad.” Cathy Smith was a groupie who sold heroin to Belushi and gave him the speedball injections that killed him; some believed she was an informer for the LAPD.

    Robin Williams and Robert DeNiro were with Belushi briefly at about 2 a.m. the morning he died, and some suspected the LAPD were hoping to set up a big bust where all three would get nailed. According to the rumor, the drugs that killed Belushi were given to Smith by the police. Dare even claimed he heard that a cop “prepared the scene the way he wanted it to be found, then went down the block and waited for the body to be discovered.”

    Woodward never found any evidence of this, “not even as a wacko theory,” Dare said, and in retrospect the theory does seem ludicrous. But this was the primary reason Jacklin reached out to Woodward in the first place, and Wired is the result: a hard rebuke to that “wacko theory.” (Where Deep Throat told Woodward to “follow the money,” Dare told the reporter to “follow the drugs,” which he probably now regrets.)

    As far as personalities, Woodward and Belushi couldn’t have been any less alike. Many who worked with Woodward found him cold, aloof, an uptight authoritarian workaholic without much of a sense of humor. In other words, he was the wrong person to write Belushi’s story from the get-go. But could be disarming, and many people confused the real Woodward with the version of him they knew from the big screen: Redford-as-Woodward.

    In fact, when one of Belushi’s friends, Anne Beatts, was contacted by Woodward, “my secretary thought it was Robert Redford on the phone. Woodward was so charming, such a good listener, and we were so impressed meeting him. It was like, would Robert Redford lie to you?”

    Woodward was so good at getting sensitive information out of people, most of Belushi’s friends didn’t catch on to him until it was too late. (“None of us knew what he was really up to,” Aykroyd recalled.) In hindsight, Belushi’s peers realized they were naïve. Considering Woodward helped topple the White House, what made them think he could be trusted not to reveal anything they didn’t want to see in print?

    Woodward Wasn’t the Best Person to Write About Belushi…or Addiction

    There were other reasons why Woodward wasn’t the best person to capture a complicated personality like Belushi, or the complexities of addiction. Jacklin said that he took a complicated story “and made it very simple,” and one of Woodward’s colleagues told Rolling Stone that he “isn’t all that introspective. He’s a wonderful machine for gathering facts. He’s not good at insight…He wanted to go beyond the facts, and the gray areas were too immense…the facts about Belushi became his only refuge.”

    What was especially infuriating to Belushi’s survivors was that Woodward blamed the Hollywood system and many close to him for enabling his death. But for Woodward, who was accustomed to tackling American corruption, condemning Hollywood came naturally: “There was no friendship and a safety net in that circle to save him,” Woodward told journalist Alicia Shepard. “I think it would have been morally offensive for me to try to please.”

    Bernie Brillstein was one of Belushi’s peers who objected to Woodward’s characterization of show business. In his memoir, he wrote, “Woodward blamed John’s death on what he thought was a morally corrupt business that indulges its stars with reckless disregard for their well-being because so much money is on the line. That really offends me. We’d have to be scum. Inhuman. No amount of money in my pocket would have made me ignore John’s health for my own gain.”

    When celebrities like Belushi needed help, it was a different world. In the early eighties, we didn’t have rehabs on every corner or TV shows like Intervention. The underlying causes of addiction were not well understood by most doctors, and treatment options were still in the dark ages. (There’s speculation in Wired that Belushi’s addiction and mood swings could have been from a chemical imbalance like “manic depression,” but he was apparently never diagnosed.)

    Belushi’s Death Signaled a Need for More Addiction Treatment

    “We’d talked about institutionalizing Belushi but never did,” Brillstein explained. “The choices at the time were limited to hospital psychiatric wards and white-bread joints for alcoholics. Belushi’s death, perhaps the first high-profile cocaine casualty of the ‘80s, certainly signaled a need for drug rehab centers.” (The Betty Ford Center opened the same year Belushi died.)

    Aykroyd added, “Intervention back then was not a tool that was used. Today if we had a problem like this, we’d get six to ten people together, we’d get the guy in the room, sit them down and say, ‘It’s gonna stop. You’re going into rehab and that’s it.’ Back then that was not a technique that was wide-spread.” For a while, Belushi had a sober companion hired from the Secret Service who did a good job keeping the drugs away, but it was a triple overtime job that wasn’t sustainable.

    Years after the Wired fall-out, Jacklin and Tanner Colby wrote an authorized Belushi biography, and it’s fascinating to read both books back to back because together they give you a good idea of the intense highs and lows of John’s life. Jacklin’s book gives you the good memories, the brilliance of Belushi’s comedy, and the good side of his personality. Then when you pick up Wired, you realize what terrible, terrifying lows Belushi sank to in his addiction.

    If Belushi had lived, he would be 70 today. His comedy still stands the test of time, but he had so much more to give. Not long after he died, a fan left a note on his grave: “He could have given us a lot more laughs, but NOOOOOOOOOO….”

    If any good came from Belushi’s passing, it was that it scared a lot of people straight. SNL producer Bob Tischler recalled in the book Live From New York, “When John died, it changed me. I gave up doing drugs. And I haven’t done any since.”

    He Made Us Laugh, and Now He Can Make Us Think

    And while many felt that Wired gave an incomplete picture of Belushi’s life and legacy, Woodward definitely got one thing right: “Nonetheless, his best and most definitive legacy is his work. He made us laugh, and now he can make us think.”

    Or as Brillstein summarized, “Four years of television, seven movies, and we’re still talking about him. Isn’t that amazing?”

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • 6 Amazing Benefits of Giving Up Alcohol and Joining a Sober Community

    6 Amazing Benefits of Giving Up Alcohol and Joining a Sober Community

    We no longer look for short-lived highs followed by compounded messes and erratic emotions. In our willingness to be present, to be aware of our inner lives, step by step we create the lives we really want to live.

    Hi, I’m Karolina and a proud member of the sober community. I didn’t really think I’d ever find myself here. Sure, I had a love-hate relationship with alcohol that filled me with more hate after each hangover, but who doesn’t? I didn’t identify as a “problem” drinker as a lot of my drinking looked like what everyone else was doing. Was I even allowed to quit?

    And yet there was that unease, that cognitive dissonance; I knew I was made for more than hangxiety and regret. After years of feeling stuck, I finally tried sobriety as an experiment and fell in love with my new life. It turned out everything I truly wanted was just on the other side of my fear: happiness, purpose, friendships, love, and growth.

    And so here I am. I’m not in AA or traditional recovery (although I’ve been working on my self-development through other tools, books, and community groups since I quit). I don’t relate to words like “relapse” or sayings like “one day at a time.”

    I wondered: did I fit in here? Into this landscape of sober people? For a long time, I didn’t even like using the word “sober,” because it felt so antithetical to what I was experiencing in my alcohol-free life. I was discovering joy(!) and gratitude, not somber misery. Why was it painted to me so grimly before? This was life in HD technicolor.

    The love I have for my new life is the result of the connections I’ve made with sober women and men. In all the other associations and lives I’ve led, I have never found such an openhearted, empathetic group of support and friends. Adding my own voice to the sober community and sharing advice with those who are still on the other side of fear has given me a new purpose. A sense of place. A calling.

    And yet it’s such a diverse space. We all have different stories, different identities, and life experiences. And we use varied methods and paths to find our happier selves. Some of us are in AA, some of us make our own way. Some of us have experienced deep trauma, others are the epitome of privilege or luck. Some of us turn to logic-based approaches, while others turn to spiritual ones.

    We may have our own unique paths, but we have so much more in common:

    1. We No Longer Settle

    We knew it well. Waking up frazzled, in pain, sad, and ashamed. Is it possible to have a hangover without having an existential crisis at the same time? Who was that person last night? Why did she do this to me? I can’t keep on like this. And yet it keeps happening, because alcohol is our plus one. The world told us to drink. We listened. And even though it feels miserable at times, drinking seems safer and easier, a comfort zone of sorts.

    And then one day it hits us. Screw “safe” and “easy.” We stop settling for hangovers. We stop settling for complacency. We stop settling for mediocrity. And it trickles down into our lives, because when you stop asking yourself if your life is okay and instead ask if it’s actually fulfilling, you get to the real heart of the matter.

    2. We Look for Deeper Connection

    Scientists say humans are prone to addiction when they are isolated and lonely. And what’s lonelier than pretending everything is fine? Or fake friends forged over boozy conversation that you can’t remember the next day? It’s a disconnection that hurts our souls, and once we go sober, it doesn’t stand. We can no longer fake it, and we open up to the vulnerable inside us.

    We look for real connection, with people who really see us and honor our life. We strengthen bonds with loved ones, free to finally be comfortable in our skin instead of always looking for something outside of us to find comfort. And we look to see our empowering lifestyle reflected in other badass men and women. The friends I’ve made in the sober community have completely transformed my life. It’s a space designed for love and support, ever growing with enthusiasm. Just look at the sober parties, the meetups, the community groups. We are hungry for the real deal of connectedness, and not the flimsy social glue served in a cup.

    3. We Are Present in Our Lives

    Life comes with feelings and stressful situations and doing hard things. And it also comes with joy and meaningful development and growth through adversity. Instead of being present with our feelings, we’re taught to have a drink, release a chemical reward, and numb uncomfortable thoughts. Abracadabra, instant gratification. A drink, the easiest solution to not deal with your life. And to train your brain to look for the easy rewards, to find entertainment so passively, you literally just sit on the couch.

    But screw “easy,” we said. We want to be active agents in our life. We want to create, build, dream, and we want to feel. We no longer look for short-lived highs followed by compounded messes and erratic emotions. We embrace the uncomfortable and do hard things. Because that’s how you build your dream life. In our willingness to be present, to be aware of our inner lives, step by step we create the lives we really want to live. Finding gratitude, awe, beauty and the fulfillment that comes with awareness of your true desires.

    4. We Rebuke Societal Conformity

    How many people wouldn’t dare refuse a social drink for fear of standing out? Or because they worry others would assume they have a problem?

    We sober folk not only have the bravery and courage to say no to drinks at cocktail parties, and networking events, and lately even yoga studios, but we also say no to societal conformity and the whole idea that alcohol is requisite to a fun and fulfilling life. Who said? Who profits when we believe this? We don’t and instead we question that entire line of reasoning and find our own self-actualization instead. When you look past societal pressure and a desire to fit in, you can find your true voice. It’s not just passing up a drink at the company happy hour. We don’t want to be like everyone else. We want to be exceptional.

    5. We Smash Our Self-Limiting Beliefs

    If we can quit alcohol, our Achilles heel, in a booze-soaked society, we can do anything. And we finally start to believe this ourselves. My love-hate relationship with alcohol led me to believe a number of things that weren’t inherently true about me: that I couldn’t have fun without booze, that I was awkward at socializing, that I couldn’t do hard things like run long distances or launch a business. And that most of all, I couldn’t go against the grain and opt out of drinking.

    But I did it anyway. I smashed my self-limiting beliefs about alcohol, giving me the courage and confidence I needed to do a whole host of things I was scared of. I’ve seen it all around me in the sober-sphere. We speak up, write books, launch businesses, share our stories, run marathons, show our children healthier coping skills, and do so many things that our drinking selves were way too stuck to even attempt.

    6. We Know the Art of Transformation

    Our lives are masterpieces. We came here to expand our souls; we were meant to evolve and grow. And the role alcohol played in our lives and the ways we surmounted that allowed us to completely change everything. Most people say quitting alcohol was just the very first thing. The foundation that allowed everything else to fall into place. Our lives are dedicated to health and well-being and love and connection that not too long ago were overrun with shame and despair and insecurity. We practice gratitude and self-acceptance and self-love.

    That’s the art of transformation and we know it well. We feel such hope and possibility for anyone coming to the same questioning about alcohol in their lives, because we know how much happiness and fulfillment lies on the other side. Change is scary and uncertain. And yet by letting go of what no longer served us, we completely reinvented our lives for the better.

    From the very outset, I’ve been in awe by the bravery, whole-heartedness, and full embrace of life I’ve seen here. That set my aspirations way above a happy hour and allowed me to completely reinvent my life. Thank you for welcoming me.
     

    What joys and epiphanies have you experienced in your new sober life? Tell us in the comments: What would you add to this list? 

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • On Gratitude

    On Gratitude

    Alcohol was the price we paid to pretend that we could feel wonder, when something broken inside of ourselves couldn’t grapple with the fullness of that reality with a clear head and a complete heart.

    Dawn is gratitude’s hour. At least for me that’s been true for the past four years. One of the clichés you’ll hear in recovery is that nobody ever wakes up wishing they’d somehow drunk more the night before. The platitudes of sobriety vary in their efficacy, but that one has always struck me as estimably wise, which is to say useful. It’s true: upon awakening, we never wish we’d gotten drunker the previous night, and if there is one imperative which I’ve learned at close to four years of sobriety, it’s to hang on till that morning sun notches its arrival. You might not always be able to make the days count, but you can at least count the days; and no matter how dark the night, no matter how many times the sweet oblivion promised by Sister Alcohol, the awareness that you made it to another clear-eyed morning is its own form of sanctification. 

    It’s a form of what the poet Raymond Carver, ten years into his sobriety, called “gravy” (others call it “grace”). Carver writes of the simple joy of being “Alive, sober, working, loving, and/being loved.” Rather than the mad scramble or the sinking pit of jittery anxiety, that’s my mornings now. 

    Equal Parts Shakiness and Shamefulness

    Before I got sober there were so many hundreds, thousands, of mornings when I’d startle awake as my hangover shocked my system into consciousness. That blind panic which an old drinking buddy (who knew the score) had christened “The Fear.” Mad fumbling towards a periodically broken flip-phone to see whom I’d bothered by text, the shuffling through of old receipts to fit together the narrative of a hazily remembered bar crawl, the moist, clammy feeling of heavy feet sticking to my hard-wood floor as I booted up my laptop to see what word salad I’d seen fit to post to Facebook or Twitter long after last call. A trail of Yuengling bottles lining a trail from my bed to the couch, where an antique ashtray designed in a faux Byzantine style was overflowing with cigarette butts. Equal parts shakiness and shamefulness. 

    That heavy, hungover feeling where the physical pain was such that the guilt surrounding the reality of how drunk you’d gotten (again) receded to a sort of personal background radiation, at least until you’d rehydrated and could focus on all of your iniquities before happy hour came, and you could do it all over again. What Caroline Knapp describes in her classic Drinking: A Love Story as the phenomenon whereby all that “you’re really aware of after a night like that is the hangover… You may feel a twinge of embarrassment, a pang of worry or despair, but most of the pain is physical in the morning, so you choose to focus on that.” At its worst, The Fear was a surprise visitor, a guest who came unexpectedly after you agreed to stop by for one or five at the bar after work, or who invited himself to Sunday boozy brunch and decided to stay until Monday morning. It’s a sickening feeling, that knowledge that you’d somehow done it again, even if the rest of what you knew was patchy.

    Which is why that hour after I get up makes me feel positively beatified in my new life. In those (often shockingly early!) hours I make coffee that’s too strong and drink too many cups, I take my dog for her morning walk, I listen to The National or The Shins and think deep, contemplative thoughts (or so I pretend). I’m experiencing a type of peace. I’m happy. And most mornings, when I realize the contrast (often helped along by Facebook’s anniversary algorithm), I pause to reflect on a past life, one of painful awakenings and forgotten stumbling. They guarantee that when you quit drinking, you’ll be delivered the life which alcohol had always promised you, but lied about. For me, that guarantee of sobriety has been largely accurate. 

    The Pull of Euphoric Recall

    But sometimes there is that electric pull, a slowing down when walking by a tavern window, hungrily eyeing the bottles of brown liquid behind the bar; or breathing in a bit too deeply when somebody at a bus stop lights a cigarette. Such an attraction to that feeling, to dwell in those moments, is what the old timers call euphoric recall. Maybe a neuroscientist can explain why my brain’s different, the malfunctioning neurons or compulsion for endorphins, but whatever the reasons, the moment ethanol diffuses through my blood, I sit in amazement that not everybody wants to feel that way. 

    There’s a thrum to alcohol through your veins, a magic whereby at some point between the third and fourth cocktail the very world seems to glow from the inside. And you’ll pursue that glancing feeling until you have no feelings left at all. This is a disease: You’ll make drinking your vocation even though it’ll make you miserable; you’ll head off to hold court at the bar even though you rationally know that you’ve got a better than average chance of getting hit by a car as you drunkenly meander home.

    I’ve developed an armor to deal with those moments, and so far, it’s worked well. What polishes that armor, what oils its hinges, is gratitude. I know that that sounds at best abstract and at worst preachy, but gratitude is nothing less than the currency with which I purchase the rest of my life. Explicit in such personal negotiations must be the understanding that, without getting into those tired debates about faith and recovery, I’ve undergone a conversion of sorts. But just as every day I make the decision to not pick up the first drink (and every morning I feel gratitude for at least that fact), so every moment I must occasion that conversion anew. Philosopher Costica Bradatan writes in Dying for Ideas: The Dangerous Lives of Philosophers that the “convert is not a new person, but a renewed one… A convert is the impossible mixture of nostalgia and hope, past and future; in such a soul the fear of a relapse lives side by side with an intense passion for the newly found self.” 

    Reforming your life, living through that conversion, is one thing; being aware, thankful, and grateful for it is what’s necessary to not let it disappear, so that you find yourself sitting with your feet upon the brass rail after twelve pints again. So, what is gratitude then? If it’s just a “Thank You” sent to some higher power, it’s an anemic (though perhaps necessary) thing, for gratitude is not merely sentiment, feeling, or affirmation. Gratitude is an entire way of inhabiting reality; a philosophy, a metaphysic, a method. Specifically, a method of living within the fullness of a moment, an embrace of that shining, luminescent glory of existence that at its most complete undulates with a vibrating glow of wonder. In a word, gratitude is hard. I fear I’m not always the best at it, but of course I go on.

    Cheap Grace

    The problem, if you’re an alcoholic as I am, is that that particular state is very easy to acquire for the price of a shot or several. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a German theologian martyred by the Nazis, often castigated what he called “cheap grace,” and the phrase works well for the feeling you think you’re getting once your blood alcohol level rises. Euphoric Recall? I remember sitting in a pub, hitting that sweet spot between the first drink and intoxication, feeling every nick in the grain of the bar’s wood underneath my fingers, and marveling at the beauty of a beer swag neon sign hung up haphazardly near the liquor bottles. In my mind I was positively divine, for alcohol has always been an apt tool in “turning the volume down,” as the author William S. Burroughs used to put it. If you’re a dipsomaniac, that most metaphysical of afflictions, it’s pretty easy to buy benediction at the bar or liquor store. 

    When faux-grace is so cheap, it becomes preferable to doing the hard work of actually experiencing the wonder of existence, the joy in simply being. I’m not sure if alcoholism is all about using liquor to desperately plug a God-shaped hole in the human heart, and just feeling the vodka, scotch, or gin rush out into a splash on the other side, but based on how the damn thing makes you feel, I figure there must be some truth in Carl Jung’s contention that alcoholism is a material solution to a spiritual problem. So frightened are we of abandoning our vices, that we fear sobriety will only offer us mundanity, prosaicness, boredom. Eventually we become possessed by our afflictions, at which point they choose not to abandon us. What Tom Waits, crooning in that sandpaper cigarette voice of his, translated from the poet Rainer Marie Rilke: “If I exorcise my devils, well, my angels may leave too.” Worth mentioning that he’s been sober for 18 years now. 

    If gratitude is not just about feeling thankful (good enough in its own way), but is also a precise method of awareness, of presentness in the moment, it’s helpful to clarify what exactly we felt in those moments when we were enraptured with wine, liquor, and beer. Another one of those helpful clichés for me is, and I paraphrase: “When you’re drunk, you always think something amazing is going to happen in exactly 15 minutes from whatever time it happens to be, but of course that 15 minutes is never over.” That seems exactly correct to me; the illusion of intoxication is something where you never actually feel wonder, just the admittedly powerful sense that wonder is about to occur. The horrible irony of the substance itself is that the drunker you get, the less possible it becomes to be present or appreciative for any actual moments of glory. 

    A Clear Head and Complete Heart

    By contrast, in sobriety there’s no need to wait 15 minutes – wonder is available now. To feel the nicks of wood under fingertips, to acknowledge the cracked transcendence of a neon sign, to feel gratitude at every second of our fallen, flawed, limited, beautiful lives is an issue of simply “cleansing the doors of perception,” as William Blake wrote, so that “everything would appear to man as it is: Infinite.” The irony is that for its reputation, alcohol is a remarkable bad disinfectant for perception. The German philosopher Walter Benjamin, writing of the Kabbalah, said that for believers “every second of time was the strait gait through which the Messiah might enter.” Every second of time is a portal through which awareness, wonder, gratitude may enter. It’s important to remember that, because in forgetting we may return to the easy cheap grace. 

    Knapp explained it in a more elegant way: “There’s something about sober living and sober thinking, about facing long afternoons with the numbing distraction of anesthesia, that… shows you that strength and hope come not from circumstances…. But from the simple accumulation of active experience.” But to have active experience, you have to be present, “When you drink, you can’t do that.” Existence can be overwhelming – simply being can be terrifying. Alcohol was the price we paid to pretend that we could feel wonder, when something broken inside of ourselves couldn’t grapple with the fullness of that reality with a clear head and a complete heart. We have deep grooves in our souls; fractures, fissures, cracks, and crevices. We are broken grails, but our shards can be held together with that cement which, for lack of a better term, we call gratitude.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • Secondhand Drinking: When Your Alcohol Problem Becomes Everybody Else's

    Secondhand Drinking: When Your Alcohol Problem Becomes Everybody Else's

    Types of harm from secondhand drinking included being pushed or hit, feeling threatened or afraid, being a passenger of a drunk driver, marital problems, family problems, and financial problems.

    In my vast and storied drinking career of 20+ years, the damage to others was minimal. I mean, I was never in a drunk driving accident, I never even got a DUI (stumbling home on foot from dive bars solved that problem); the drunken brawls I was in usually happened at home with my ex, and there weren’t any arrests due to my insane behavior. The only person I was hurting by getting sloppy, blackout drunk seven days a week was me.

    Or at least that’s the story I like to tell myself.

    In reality, there were countless people affected by my drinking. From the landlords I didn’t pay and the employers I worked for while intoxicated to the innocent cashiers who had to help my slurring and sloppy ass at grocery stores and liquor stores and the cab drivers I would harass from the backseat, there were a slew of people taken down by my tequila-soaked tsunami. When you add those people to the list of family members, friends, coworkers, roommates, and neighbors who all suffered some sort of emotional fallout due to my drinking, the damage doesn’t look so minimal. It looks like a small town after a tornado.

    Studies Show Impact of Alcohol’s Harm to Others

    So when a new study came out last month about secondhand drinking, I could certainly identify.

    Nearly 9,000 participants answered questions from two surveys, the 2015 National Alcohol’s Harm to Others Survey and the 2015 National Alcohol Survey. They were asked if they had experienced any or all of 10 different types of harm caused by someone else’s drinking. Coming from an alcoholic home and being an alcoholic myself, I feel like I could answer, “Hell, yes!” to all of these questions without even seeing them. Causing other people harm is the only way I’ve ever known alcohol to work. I am not from civilized red wine sipping stock. For the record, the types of harm included being pushed or hit, feeling threatened or afraid, being a passenger of a drunk driver, marital problems, family problems, and financial problems, all caused by another person’s drinking. A staggering one in five answered what I would have answered: Hell, yes, they’ve been affected by the drinking of others.

    Researchers believe the number is probably even higher, given the study only asked the participants about the last year of their lives. Personally, this also checks out. I couldn’t even begin to come up with a total and comprehensive list of folks affected by my drunken douchebaggery over the years.

    According to the study, 23% of women and 21% of men reported experiencing at least one of those harms during the last year. Not surprisingly, women experienced the fallout of someone else’s drinking in marital problems, financial problems, and being the passenger of drunk drivers. Women were more likely to be the victim of violence, sexual assault, and harassment from someone who was drinking than their male counterparts. Men, on the other hand, felt the reverb in the form of property damage, vandalism, and harassment, in addition to drunk driving woes. Folks 18 to 25, the study found, felt the effects of alcoholism the worst, which makes sense as alcohol use disorder is on the rise in that age group. Children were not interviewed for the study but as a kid who grew up in an alcoholic home, I experienced the ill effects of secondhand drinking on a regular basis. All the things the survey mentions — personal violence, damage to property, feeling unsafe — that’s all part of daily life when you grow up around alcoholics.

    Advertising Normalizes Drinking, While Alcohol Destroys Communities

    Beyond the super relatable numbers and findings, the study packs an additional punch. The very framing of the study — calling it “secondhand drinking” — is somewhat revolutionary. By labeling it this way, the folks behind the study are emphasizing that drinking doesn’t just hurt the drinker, but it also affects the people around them akin to secondhand smoke. Sure, those of us in recovery who’ve had to write inventories or make amends are well aware of how we’ve effed up the lives around us. But for the rest for the world, drinking is fun, readily accessible, and not as bad as, like, heroin, right? Advertising agencies and big brands have worked really hard over the last decade to normalize drinking in every possible setting — airports, movie theaters, office meetings, and more. Initiating a conversation about how drinking messes up entire communities, economies, and the personal lives of innocent people feels like boldly bucking the system.

    This study in fact tells the truth of what people in recovery have known for years: the world is a safer and less shitty place if we stay sober. Beyond the loved ones who have to clean up our puke or the fender benders caused when we’ve had one too many, drinking — or more specifically alcohol use disorder — is destroying lives at an alarming rate.

    In addition to being a writer, I also work at a hospital on an addiction medicine team as a recovery mentor. Daily, our emergency room is filled with people brought in by the negative effects of drinking. Yet in a society where drinking is no big deal, these faces are commonplace and will be replaced by new ones the following day.

    “It’s Not That Bad…”

    Last summer in the hospital, I met a nice lady. She had a good life: She owned a successful business, she had beautiful and talented teenage daughters, a doting husband and concerned friends. Everybody lives next door to this lady. Your mom is friends with this lady. Hell, maybe your mom is this lady. And when they brought her in because of the negative effects of her drinking, she reported that it wasn’t that bad, she only had a few glasses of wine a night.

    Later, I shared my interaction with a doctor on her team. “Unbelievable!” he said. He told me that moments before I saw her, her medical team showed her detailed pictures of the damage that drinking had caused her brain. During her stay, I got concerned calls from her best friend and her daughters, all of whom had heartbreaking stories of how this woman’s drinking had negatively impacted them. It didn’t matter that she was white or successful or a nice lady. Drinking was ruining her brain, her life, and the lives of the people around her.

    In the 1970’s and 1980’s, the discovery of the effects of secondhand smoking changed how we thought about tobacco and nicotine. We started talking about how smoking was making the people around us sick, too. We changed how we smoked in front of children, in front of friends, and in public places. When we talk about secondhand drinking, we’re hoping for the same consideration and results. We’re saying it’s not just the alcoholic affected. It’s everybody around them, too.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • Can 12-Step Programs Treat Dual Diagnoses?

    Can 12-Step Programs Treat Dual Diagnoses?

    Effective treatment needs to include both the substance use disorder and the co-occurring disorder in an integrated approach because the two conditions build on each other.

    Thirty-three percent of people with mental illness also have a substance use disorder (SUD); that number rises to 50 percent for severe mental illness. Fifty-one percent of people with SUD have a co-occurring mental health disorder. Effective treatment needs to include both the SUD and the co-occurring disorder in an integrated approach because the two conditions build on each other. People with mental illness may turn to substances to alleviate symptoms and severe substance misuse can cause lasting psychological and physiological damage.

    12-step programs are free, prolific, and available throughout the world. These mutual-help organizations are designed to facilitate recovery from addiction, but are they suitable for treating the large segment of people with addiction who also have other mental health conditions or psychiatric diagnoses?

    A 2018 meta-analysis  undertook a literature review on 14 years of studies related to dual diagnosis and Alcoholics Anonymous (AA). This extensive quantitative look into the effiicacy of AA for people with dual diagnosis found that participation in AA and abstinence “were associated significantly and positively.” The research supports the clinically-backed notion that an integrated mental health approach that encourages participation in mutual help programs is the best approach for treating patients with comorbid SUD and mental illness.

    Does it Depend on the Dual Diagnosis?

    There is enormous variation in mental illnesses, so does the potential effectiveness of 12-step programs change based on the type of disorder or diagnosis? The co-founder of AA, William Wilson (known as Bill W.), was afflicted with a co-occurring disorder. Wilson struggled with “very severe depression symptoms” and today his mental health issue may have been diagnosed as major depressive disorder.

    A study published in the Journal of Substance Abuse Treatment followed 300 alcohol-dependent people with and without social anxiety disorder who went through hospital-assisted detox followed by participation in AA. Social anxiety disorder is characterized by an intense fear of being rejected or disliked by other people. This study found that there was no significant difference in relapse or abstinence rates between the two groups and concluded that social anxiety disorder was “not a significant risk factor for alcohol use relapse or for nonadherence to AA or psychotherapy.”

    Do Sponsors Matter?

    People with dual diagnoses tend to participate in 12-step programs like AA as much as people with just SUD and receive the same benefits in recovery. Those people with co-occurring conditions may actually benefit more from “high levels of active involvement, particularly having a 12-step sponsor.”

    In many 12-step mutual help organizations, people enter into an informal agreement with another recovering person who will support their recovery efforts and hold them accountable for continued sobriety. This one-on-one relationship of sponsor and sponsee has been compared to the “therapeutic alliance” that is formed between patients and their clinicians. The therapeutic alliance is positively correlated with treatment outcomes and abstinence.

    The therapeutic alliance is one of the most important aspects of effective psychotherapy, as it helps the therapist and the patient to work together. The relationship is based on a strong level of trust. Patients need to feel fully supported, and know that that their therapist is always working towards the best possible outcome for the patient. In the sponsor-sponsee relationship, a similar level of trust and belief is essential if sponsorship is going to be beneficial. 

    As with therapy, it may take many tries with many different people to find the right fit. Not all people are suitable to be sponsors and not all sponsorships go well. A sponsor is generally expected to be very accessible to their sponsee, and available at any time, day or night. They are supposed to help with completing the 12-steps, and they often provide advice and suggestions from their own experiences. It’s a lot of responsibility.

    A strong therapeutic alliance has been found to be an excellent predictor for treatment outcomes. Does that mean a failed therapeutic alliance could derail treatment? In short, the answer is yes. Trust is critical to healing from any mental illness.

    Trauma and the Therapeutic Alliance

    Traumatic events have a serious impact on mental health. People with mental illness are at a higher risk of being further traumatized and people who are traumatized are at a higher risk of developing mental illness than the general population. Childhood trauma “doubles risk of mental health conditions.”

    Recovery from trauma is based on empowering the survivor and developing new connections to life, including re-establishing trust. Judith Herman, a leading psychiatrist specializing in trauma is adamant that recovery is not a solitary process. This may be why 12-step programs have been successful in helping some people recovery from trauma. 

    Being a sponsor to someone who has been traumatized requires a fine balance between listening and giving space. Herman explains that survivors need to know they’re being heard when telling their story. At the same time, “trauma impels people both to withdraw from close relationships and to seek them desperately.” Meaning that when the sponsor does not go away, their motives may seem suspect in the eyes of the survivor. Yet, if the sponsor doesn’t stay, it can reinforce negative self-appraisal and stoke a fear of abandonment.

    Individuals with psychological trauma can struggle to modulate intense emotions, such as anger. A sponsor or therapist has to have healthy boundaries with a sponsee/patient if the relationship is going to work. Providing good sponsorship is a huge undertaking that requires a firm commitment.

    The good thing about the 12 steps is that they are considered a long-term program which encourages revisiting the steps many times to sustain successful recovery. This is useful in terms of trauma recovery because most trauma is never fully resolved. A traumatized person will likely experience reappearance of symptoms; traumatic memories can surface in different stages of life. Stress is a major cause of these recurrences and having a place to process these events as they come up is important.

    Do 12-Step Programs Have a Role in Treating Dual Diagnoses?

    Integrated holistic treatment that addresses how the two conditions interact and affect each other will provide the best outcomes. Ultimately, what we want is to improve quality of life and to return to ordinary life with an open door to future support when necessary. The research shows that when the principles of 12-step programs are integrated with other treatments, we see improvements in self-esteem, positive affect, reduced anxiety, and improved health.

    Further research is necessary to compare 12-step programs with other emerging mutual and self-help organizations, as they have been around for less time and there are fewer published studies on their efficacy. 

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • Taking Care of Your Mental Health in Sobriety

    Taking Care of Your Mental Health in Sobriety

    Pre-sobriety, alcohol and drugs often serve as coping mechanisms. When you quit, you’ll need different kinds of mental and emotional support. Make sure you have tools and solutions in place.

    PSA: there’s some text missing from the headlines popping up lately that show quitting drinking improves women’s mental health. 

    Essentially, the findings of the Canadian Medical Association Journal are that not drinking at all is actually better for your health than drinking when you’re stressed, no matter how much you want to lean into the whole a-glass-of-red-wine-a-day-is-good-for-you thing.

    But it’s not that simple. There’s no foolproof formula like: “If I stop drinking, then my mental health will improve” (as nice as that would be).

    For many of us, there’s legwork necessary for improving our mental health when we stop drinking and using drugs, in addition to simply stopping. When you stop drinking for an extended period of time (for some of us that may mean 24 hours, others, 4 weeks or 3 months), you may realize that you have symptoms of alcoholism or drug addiction, and the work you need to do to live a healthier life without substances will be outlined for you at a rehab facility, in a 12-step program, or via another form of recovery. 

    Or you may realize you are more of a problem drinker, who feels uncomfortable without a drink at meals, social gatherings, or after a long day, but you want to give it up for lifestyle or health reasons. You also likely have work to do for your mental health. 

    Why? Well, it was making you happy. It relaxed you. It calmed your anxiety. It signified fun, the loss of some inhibition, made things just a bit warmer and brighter and easier. It was a reward, it was something to do, and it was a way to cope with stress; not just day-to-day stress, but the stress of memories and past events that you carry around without even knowing and need to let go of. 

    If you respond internally with “Oh, darn, oh well” to the idea of a lifetime without Rosé all day, this may not pertain to you. But no matter why you drink or how often, alcohol is doing something for you. If you give it up, you may need to find another way of getting that need met. We all have (or had) our reasons, whether we’re aware of them or not, for drinking. And if it’s not just something we can just choose to leave in the interest of a more mindful yogi life or healthier gut, then it’s something we probably need to look at. 

    I spent a few years in my late teens and early twenties trying to stop drinking on my own. I was already in very strong recovery from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)—but I had no idea what I was in for when I took alcohol and weed out of the equation. If I wasn’t already in therapy, forget it—I don’t think I could have done it. 

    But what helped me the most back then were the steps, the social supports, reaching out for help, having places to go and people to see where alcohol was not present, and the continued ability to work on myself—and some other issues I didn’t know I had until I’d stopped drowning them in “social” drinks. 

    In your first few months to a year of stopping drinking, you’re going to need more than just a positive attitude to stay mentally healthy—especially because life will come slap it right out of you one day without warning, as life tends to do. 

    Here’s how you can make sure you’re prepared for anything. 

    Professional Help

    While not all therapists are amazing, the right therapist can pretty much be a hero in your life—someone who listens to you, makes you feel heard, and makes themselves available to you via text and email when you’re in crisis. These therapists guide you, challenge you, and help you grow. 

    A good therapist will see issues that drinking masked. 

    My roster included PTSD, Pre-Menstrual Dysphoric Disorder (PMDD), and I fit the bill for a few symptoms of other overlapping issues. Specific therapy, targeted therapy, is crucial for a strong recovery. For me, that meant Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) and Dialectical Behavioral Therapy (DBT), but a therapist who specializes in addiction can also be a valuable asset. 

    We have to learn new ways of being in the world from people who understand what we’re going through and who can be objective, reliable, and helpful supports, and while seeking comfort and wisdom from our friends and family is invaluable, nothing can take the place of professional help. 

    Social Support and Community

    It’s important to lean not just on the friends you have already, but please, find a meet up, a meeting, even a local non-drinkers’ gathering where you can slowly start to form a group of contacts you can call, text, or hang out with who know how to deal with some of the issues you may experience.

    At a 12-step meeting, you can word-vom literally everything going on to a stranger, but it’s a good idea to take more care and go slower when establishing lighthearted dishing with other folks who don’t drink but who don’t identify as “addicts or alcoholics.” 

    As for your “drinking” and “using” and “partying” friends—just start to bring some awareness into the picture when you’re around them. Do they still want to hang out and do something if you’re not drinking, or going to a club or a bar? When we change, the people in our lives either change with us, or we realize we’re heading in a different direction. 

    Self-Care

    Self-care has become such a buzzword that we kind of just make it fit anywhere:

    Bath time! Self-care.

    Massage! Self-care. 

    Five gluten-free, vegan cupcakes! Self-care.

    All of these things (except maybe keep an eye on the cupcake count because sugar) qualify, and they’re wonderful. Start to figure out what makes you feel good—as you’re doing it, and not just as a means to an end. 

    Note: if you hate massages, that is not self-care. 

    But if you like to read, setting aside time from your busy schedule to spend a couple hours with a good book is a great example of self-care.

    Saying no to events you don’t want to go to when you’re exhausted—unless it’s for a good friend, or you might lose your job if you refuse—is self-care. 

    Meditation: This is terrifying at first, but it’s really not so bad if you ease into it, like sticking your toe in the temperature-regulated hotel pool. You can start with two minutes a day, and you can use an app to help you along, offering everything from vocal guidance to a gentle gong to signify the end of a timed silent session. As far as guided meditations go, they’re now specific to everything from commuting to being sick and there’s even one that addresses nervousness about meditating. And there are devices available to help, like a headband that can track your level of calm and bring your awareness back to your breath with nature sounds.

    Exercise and diet: You’ve got to keep moving. You may already be in shape, or you may be “out of shape,” but in addition to giving yourself permission to replace the sugar in alcohol with the sugar in doughnuts, it’s time to start treating your body better, since there is such a strong connection between your microbiome (gut), your brain (the prefrontal cortex reacts to processed sugar the same way it reacts to opioids—by triggering dopamine) and your overall feeling of being healthy, especially mentally healthy. You don’t need to become someone who runs a 5K or hits the gym every day and pretends to like it. But keeping your body in motion and eating healthier will yield many benefits, some immediate and some that you’ll see over time, including better sleep, improved mood, stress relief, and more. 

    Upgrade Your PPTs (people, places, things) 

    New life, new people, new things, new places, new activities. It doesn’t make sense to keep hanging out at bars anymore, and there’s a difference between showing up to a bridal shower where other women may be drinking and heading to your old haunt where the only thing to do is drink, especially after a stressful day.

    Start to discover the world around you. Try taking some classes, visit new neighborhoods and cultural institutions. See if you can pick up new hobbies or dig deeper into old ones. Use social media and the Internet to track down other people doing the same.

    It can be hard, as an adult, to make new friends, but it’s not impossible. Go somewhere people chat. A dog run or park (if you have a dog or even if you’re just “considering” getting one and gathering information), a meet up for people who love anime, a writer’s collective. Join Facebook groups or browse Meetup and see what’s out there! Taking a class by yourself is also a great way to double down: not only will you learn something new, but you’ll find others who share your interest, maybe even someone else who was also badass enough to show up solo. 

    Logistical Stability

    It’s important to have a healthy eat, sleep, work, play routine, and if you don’t have one, it’s time to make one. 

    You may already have a job that you need to turn your attention to even more deeply, and you may have a passion project you want to add into the mix. Most importantly, you should get involved with volunteer work—you don’t have to serve food at a soup kitchen; maybe you can offer your writing skills to a nonprofit, or if you know graphic design you can help them build their new website. 

    If you don’t have a steady job, look for one—a sober job is often referred to as one that isn’t our dream career, but is a place that we have to show up to regularly, keeps us accountable, provides an environment to socialize with others, and is a way for us to earn honest money. 

    If your current job makes you so unhappy it contributed to your drinking, maybe look around for something better and if you feel you’re ready, go for that dream job.

    Also, make sure your housing situation is safe and affordable, and conducive to your new way of life (i.e., if you chose your roommates because they party 24/7, it might be time to look for a new place).

    Bottom line: It’s dangerous for people who might be using alcohol or drugs to self-medicate depression or other underlying conditions to give up that medication without other supports, tools, and solutions in place. Your life is going to get bigger and better, and you’re going to get healthier—but as with all good things that don’t create a false feeling of safety and happiness, you have to do a little work to get there.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • The Sober Advantage: 15 Things You Should Never Do Drunk

    The Sober Advantage: 15 Things You Should Never Do Drunk

    Texting, for example… Sober? Text away! But If you’re drunk, give your phone to someone you trust and tell them to lock it up.

    In certain circles there is much debate around whether life is better sober or with alcohol. Sober people have a list of reasons why their lifestyle is better, much of which center around improved health, stronger personal relationships, and a lack of legal and financial issues (and some of us didn’t have a choice). Boozehounds tend to have a simple argument: they like to party and they don’t want to stop.

    Still, regardless of whether you’re imbibing or teetotal, there are some things that we can all agree need to be done sober…or else!

    If you’re sober, consider this a gratitude list. If you’re not, keep this article handy so you don’t have too many amends to make the next time you have a “morning after.”

    15. Posting on Social Media

    There are few things worse than waking up after a long night of partying and seeing a bunch of notifications on Facebook when you don’t remember even logging in. Well actually there are a lot of things worse but we’ll get to those. Whether you left a comment that you thought was hilarious but in reality was bizarre, flirted with a stranger awkwardly over DM, made inappropriate suggestions to a married coworker, or just put up a post explaining your deepest thoughts that in the light of day make you seem like a lunatic, social media and drinking are a lethal combination.

    14. Online Shopping

    This is never a good idea when drinking. While that pair of $300 shoes or those trendy jeans might seem totally necessary when you’re hammered, you probably should’ve waited until morning to pay for what’s in your cart. And will that tee-shirt that says “I’m not shy, I just don’t like you” seem quite so funny in the morning? Even worse is when you shop drunk for someone else. Lock those credit cards up!

    13. Having a Serious Conversation with Your Significant Other

    Sometimes when you get to drinking, things about your significant other start to gnaw at you a bit. All of a sudden it seems like this very moment is the perfect time to enumerate all the different things your loved one does that bother you, that you’ve been keeping deep inside. Of course you’ll bring them up in a very respectful way, everything will go well, and it won’t turn into a childish fight. In reality, if you act on this drunken impulse, you’ll probably end up spending the night at the local Motel 6. With your cat.

    12. Cooking

    I know, one of the things that is so fun about being buzzed is making a snack in the middle of the night and going to town. That’s cool, just don’t use the stove. Bad things happen. The best-case scenario might be a ruined meal, but the worst involves a call to 911, and there are a lot of things in between those two extremes that aren’t good either. Get something delivered instead. Even Domino’s is better than trying to figure out how to shut off your fire alarm when you’re drunk.

    11. Napping in Public

    This is never a good idea when you’re drunk. If you’re sober, a little nap on the beach or on the train when you’re commuting home might be refreshing. If you’re hammered, it means one of the worst sunburns you’ve ever had, or waking up on the train 20 miles past where you were supposed to get off. And if you feel like taking a nap in a bar or at a party, that’s not a nap: you’re passing out.

    10. Hooking Up with Someone New

    One of the cool things about having a buzz on is you lose your inhibitions. You might see someone you like across the room and go over and talk to them, and if the vibe is right you just might end up hooking up. Wait, did I see that was one of the cool things? I was kidding, that’s one of the bad things. When you’re drunk, you don’t even know if you really do like them, and you have no idea if the vibe is right. Take a number and hook up the next day. If the vibe was truly right, it still will be. Better yet, be brave and try it sober. Otherwise you may end up in one of those awkward “what’s your name” conversations post-interlude.

    9. Making a Promise 

    When you’re sober, making a promise is a good thing. It shows that you’re honest and responsible, or at least trying to be. When you’re drunk, not so much. First of all, there is a good chance you aren’t even going to remember your promise; secondly, even if you do remember, there is an even better chance you were just blowing smoke. Keep your promises to yourself when you’ve been boozing. 

    8. Checking Your Work Email

    If you’ve been drinking, his one is just a hard no. I know, most of us wouldn’t check our work email when we’ve been drinking, but sometimes you might be just kicking around, half in the bag, and just want to take a quick little peak and see what’s happening at the office. If sober, this just shows you’re conscientious. If you’ve been drinking, clicking on your inbox is the same as walking through a landmine. For the love of God, close the program!

    7. Dropping Knowledge

    Sometimes you’re in the midst of a conversation and something comes up that you happen to know about and you feel compelled to share your knowledge. If you’re sober, knock yourself out. If you’re drunk, please don’t. Whether you want to talk about politics, what’s wrong with millennials, or the Yankees’ starting rotation, you aren’t going to sound nearly as smart as you think you will. Trust me on this one.

    6. Texting Someone You’re Crushing On

    Drunk or sober, you might get the urge to text someone who you have a bit of a crush on. If you’re sober, do it up. Letting someone know you’re thinking of them is usually appreciated. But if you’re drunk, give your phone to someone you trust and tell them to lock it up. You might be able to get through a few texts without a problem, but sooner or later it will become obvious that you’re wasted and you’re just going to sound dumb, or worse.

    5. Flirting

    Whether there’s genuine interest or you’re just enjoying yourself, flirting can be fun. There is a line, though, between coming off as someone flirtatious and fun and someone who boorish and aggressive. When you’re boozing, sometimes (okay, pretty much all the time) it can be hard to figure out where that line is. In fact, when you’re hammered, it can be hard to even tell when if your flirting is going well or poorly.

    4. Confronting a Stranger

    Sometimes you’re just going about your day, minding your own business, when someone you don’t know does something that irritates you. Maybe they cut in line, or are being rude to a waitress, and you want to say something to them about it. If you’re sober, go for it, and good for you. If you’re drunk and you confront a stranger, there’s a pretty good chance you’ll wind up in a viral YouTube video, and not the kind that receives a million “likes” because you’re such a wonderful person. (or “not the kind that gets you on “Ellen” for being such a wonderful person.”)

    3. Picking Up the Tab

    You’ve been out with friends and it’s time for the bill. Being the generous person you are, you’ve decided to pick up the tab. If you’re sober that’s cool, how nice of you. If you’re drunk it could be a big mistake. Looking at your bank statement the day after a night on the town can be terrifying. It’s cool, though, it isn’t like you needed groceries this week anyway.

    2. Getting a Tattoo

    This one is pretty obvious, but it needs to be said anyway. Don’t get inked up after a night of drinking. Sober people usually spend a long time figuring out what kind of tattoo they want and researching local artists with the skill to deliver the kind of work they want. Drunk people wander into some random tattoo shop on the strip and get a tribal design on their forearm because they want to seem deep. What’s actually deep is spending time thoughtfully considering what kind of tattoo you’re putting on your body.

    1. Driving

    Okay so seriously, don’t drink and drive. This is the one thing that everyone agrees on. If you get behind the wheel when you’ve been drinking, you’re basically an irresponsible maniac who doesn’t care about the consequences of your actions and who you hurt. So just don’t do it. If you’re drinking, be prepared: taxi, designated driver, uber, lyft, mom. There’s no reason to ever drink and drive. The world thanks you.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • Nothing Left to Prove: The Joy of Growing Older in Recovery

    Nothing Left to Prove: The Joy of Growing Older in Recovery

    I entered recovery in handcuffs. I had chipped teeth, abscesses, a fresh diagnosis of Hepatitis C. But there I was, sitting in my County orange-colored jumpsuit, breathing in the fragrance of fresh opportunities.

    I invested hundreds of thousands of dollars with the idea that I would be dead by the time I was 30 years old. I was killing myself on an installment plan, knowing the bill would one day be due. I’m not sure if it was genetics or environment, but unfortunately suicidal ideation was a frequent companion starting when I was in sixth grade. The soft-spoken psychologist in the glasses with the round frames said I was “depressed.” I wasn’t quite sure what that meant. I did know I was restless in my own skin. It would be five more years before the warm gloss of drugs lacquered over my feelings.

    If an early demise was the result of continuing on this path, young me speculated that I was willing to pay the price. I didn’t want to live long enough to be touched by the ugly reality the future had in store for me. Ugly was the world my parents lived in: Married for decades, they argued on a daily basis over his drinking and her compulsive shopping. I would sit in my footie pajamas, playing with my stuffed animals, pretending for a moment I was someone else. This was good training for my years of active addiction. I always wished I was someone different. 

    Addiction Was for Other People

    As I delved into the world of drugs, I saw the premature expiration date emerge in the people around me. People just looked older — pain trapped in their cloudy eyes. Young me said that could never happen. Addiction was for other people.

    I was both naive and nihilistic when I took those first few forays into “partying.” Day drinking led to cocaine-fueled nights. There were benzos and meth and whatever I could get my hands on. By the time I got to opioids, I was firmly entrenched in addiction. Heroin became the cornerstone of my self-defeating belief system: The only day worth living was today; that day was only worth living if I had enough drugs. As my habit increased, so did the sinking feeling in the pit of my upset stomach that any day might be my last.

    Maybe this wasn’t what I actually wanted for myself. 

    If Only…

    Wrapped in the covering of a slowly hardening young woman was still this quiet little being who wanted to know what it felt like to be loved. My body was a means for getting the attention I desired, the substances the keys to unlocking my inhibitions. I desperately sought the approval of others. If only I was thin enough, if only I was pretty enough, if only I changed these few things about myself maybe then you would love me. But heroin numbed my ability to care. 

    I had no value beyond what my body could obtain for me. While my addiction included many radically low points, the wear and tear on this unit forced me to gain perspective. Time was crawling along at the same snail’s pace of the dealers I paged from dirty payphones. This can’t be all that life has to offer. I spent nearly a decade dying — what would it be like to live?

    At 27-years-young, I entered recovery in handcuffs. The legacy of impermanence was marked on my physical self: chipped teeth, stretch marks from the weight I’d lost, gained, lost, and gained again. There were circles on my body from areas where I had picked my skin. Holes from abscesses. A fresh diagnosis of Hepatitis C. But there I was, sitting in my County orange-colored jumpsuit, breathing in the fragrance of fresh opportunities. 

    No Shortcuts to Healing

    Asking for rehab was, as the judge stated, the first “intelligent decision” I had made in a decade. I briskly completed a god-awful rehab with horrible success rates as I was eager to move to the next phase of life. I moved into a sober living facility with two garbage bags of belongings and the weight of all my regrets. It wasn’t the material possessions that concerned me, it was the fact that I was going to have to learn to adapt to the world using the vague internal strength I was told I possessed. I was now in charge of the well-being of this newly sober woman of substance. There would be no shortcuts to healing. 

    The process of unraveling the years of unhealthy living started with a whimper. There were 12-step meetings, shitty jobs, meditation, yoga, long walks, inventories, caffeine, terrible sex, and tears shed in front of a paid professional. I needed to cast off the attachment inherent to the vessel given to me by the universe before I could see my value. The adversity I have experienced has made me stronger; like coal pressed into a diamond, I learned I could shine. 

    The day before my 30th birthday, I started dating someone who I would later discover to be the love of my life. This was a less than perfect love, not like the ones in the books I read as a child. It was a realistic love, one that takes out the garbage. It was the kind of love I needed. I finished my degree at 35, and finished graduate school at 37. I found a career I actually enjoyed. I had my last child when I was almost 41. I began to not only see a future for myself but actually start to create one. 

    Hot Flashes and Freedom

    The passing of time has had many challenges: the death of my beloved mother, a few surgeries requiring opioids, my kids screaming they hate me. I have also outlived nearly everyone I knew. Yet, I am happier than I have ever been. There is a liberation of the spirit in knowing I have nothing left to prove. I enjoy the simple pleasures of a good face cream and a tight hug. I also dress in layers. 

    Perimenopause has been a horrible wake-up call. There are days when the anxiety makes me feel like I am slowly being ripped out of my skin. Caffeine, my last addiction, has become my enemy. In my 40’s, a bottomless cup of coffee has been replaced by herbal tea. Sleeping in a pool of sweat under two blankets and a sleeping bag was something I never expected to experience again after I kicked dope. It’s like my body is its own micro climate. My hair is thinning in spots. My nails are brittle. My tolerance for foolishness is at an all-time low. Yet, there is a freedom in being the raw and uncut version of myself. I have acceptance of my strengths and limitations. I want to enjoy every single day of my life. 

    I’m old now, or at least what I once considered old. I have three pairs of reading glasses strewn about my house. Hot flashes and night sweats are the current alarm bells that wake me up in the morning. My chest is starting to sag, followed by my neck. There’s the consistent search for garments that can adequately hide my midsection. I find myself asking for recommendations for shoes that have arch support. But I’ve also achieved a level of satisfaction knowing I have 21 years of mostly good decisions under my belt. At 49, I have the freedom I so desperately sought in my youth. 

    Tomorrow is not promised. And I don’t know how much longer I have left in this world. I spent hundreds of thousands of dollars trying to kill myself. But in the process of dying, I realized I wanted to live.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • Drinking in Japan

    Drinking in Japan

    Japan was never the problem: it had been me all along! That realization led to an important discovery about my relationship with alcohol.

    People’s alcoholism evolves in many ways: some folks know by the time they’re 13 that they have a problem with alcohol, some learn in college, others later in life. I happened to be one of the latter ones; my alcoholism reared its ugly head in my early thirties. 

    I’d gone to Japan to work as a dancer, and later became married to a Japanese man. He was never home and I became so abjectly lonely, I’d hit the ex-pat bars for company, partying with rock stars, movie stars, baseball stars, businessmen, students, teachers, models, people from many different countries. It was a good time. But I didn’t drink much. 

    Then, one day, this raucously drunk girl (who came from some posh ivy league university and was teaching English in some elitist student exchange program), ranted about how much she and her pals hated what they called Prison Japan, then began dumping on Californians, calling us flaky, shallow people. I was so mad, I was ready to walk out the door. When she saw my subtle rage, she tried to assuage me.

    “Oh, c’mon Margaret, we were just joking, here, sit down again.” Then she said: “Hey, how come you never get drunk? That’s probably why you seem depressed. Maybe if you got drunk with us, you’d have more fun.” 

    Why Not Drink?

    Since this was a novel idea, I thought, Why the hell not? I never get drunk, lose control. Maybe if I’m drunk, this whole convo won’t seem so bad.

    So I began drinking, shot after shot, about six in a 45-minute span. All of a sudden, a certain undeniable warmth and euphoria shot through my body; I felt so carefree, so happy! I got so lively I found myself on the bar doing an imitation of Mikael Baryshnikov’s drunken-albeit-perfect tap-dancing number in the film Casanova. Yes, I felt indestructible and over-confident, sure my performance was almost as good as Baryshnikov’s. And the crowd went wild! Suddenly, I was part of the group. And it felt so damn good.

    I had no idea until that night that drinking prodigious amounts of alcohol could turn me into a fun-loving party girl. I decided right then and there that I ought to get drunk anytime I went out. Nightclubbing while drinking moderately was fun, but nothing compared to the euphoria and freedom heavy drinking bought me.

    I also discovered alcohol was my conduit to bonding with the Japanese, to really forming a connection with them. Their stalwart façade, worn throughout the day, would melt and they‘d become lighthearted or sentimental, sometimes bellicose; pretty much behaving like anyone who has had a little too much to drink.

    I never saw Japanese men get in bar fights—with the exception of the Yakuza, Japanese mafia. When Yakuza drank, they could become fearlessly aggressive; shocking violence could be unleashed abruptly, anywhere, anytime. Once I witnessed a Yakuza break a bottle and cut his girlfriend’s face. A vermilion stripe ran down her cheek, yet no one got up to help her. I learned later that the public was afraid to do anything for fear of repercussions! The only help she got was from a waiter who brought her a towel to stop the bleeding. She continued to stay by her boyfriend’s side, towel to cheek, looking down. I tried to help her, but got pushed back by management, telling me “Damena, dekinani, No, no, no, danger; you can’t go over there.” 

    Progressive Disease

    After some time passed, I noticed my drinking was getting progressively worse. Now I was consuming about 20 beers when I drank. The hangovers were staggeringly hideous. And they made me deeply depressed; alcohol is a depressant and I had a predilection toward depression anyway. It bothered me so much, I knew I had to quit. The hangovers were interfering with my relationship with my husband, my Japanese language studies, and my interactions with others. I so wanted to moderate. I’d even pray to the big Buddha in the park before going out, “Please, please watch over me. Don’t let me get drunk.”

    It didn’t work. Hard as I tried, I just couldn’t stop drinking excessively.

    I convinced myself that it was the loneliness of living in Japan that was driving me to drink. I was positive that once I got back to America, my drinking problem would sort itself out. Wrong. It remained intractably intact, I was getting stupefyingly drunk at least three to four times a week; one day to nurse a hangover, and the following day right back at it. 

    I eventually learned how to moderate, which gave me the proof I so desperately wanted: I was no longer an alcoholic. I was able to successfully drink casually and not to excess for about seven years. Then, out of nowhere, I got fired from a really boring dumb job. Inexplicably, I took it very hard. I decided it was high time to cut loose: drink away my disappointments and my feelings of inadequacy, and finally throw in the towel on this thing called life. I’d let it all hang out and drink as much as I wanted.

    Well, what I thought might be a two-day bender turned into a two-year bender. I spent most of my time on the couch passed out, at the liquor store, in rehabs, jails, or hospitals. I was up to two fifths a day, drinking more than ever. Hey, I’d given up on life, surrendered to King Alcohol . . . Why even try to moderate?

    I also was anti-AA. I’d convinced myself it was a cult and refused to go. But looking back now, I realize the real reason was that I was too prideful to have to admit to the group relapse after relapse. Finally, at my wit’s end, I went to an African American Christian rehab. I ended up staying there for six months. 

    This rehab didn’t mess around. It was lockdown and you weren’t allowed to go anywhere without staff present. And it did the trick: I lost my taste for alcohol and stayed sober for five years. But I still wouldn’t go to AA.

    Then, when I once again resumed my egregious drinking habits, my husband gave me an ultimatum: “Go to AA or I’m divorcing you.” I was shocked he’d say that because he was a normie and thought AA slightly freakish. But I got the message, and I believed him. So instead of going to the 7/11 at 5:59 to buy beer, I went to a meeting. 

    And this time AA worked for me. It’s amazing how my idea of AA as a cult evaporated the minute I really needed to stop drinking. I’m now sober three years, and with the help of AA I’ve become a better, happier person. 

    Everywhere I Go, There I Am

    I learned in the end that geographics don’t help—once you’ve become an alcoholic. Japan was never the problem: it had been me all along! That realization led to an important discovery: Alcoholism may be triggered by certain life events, but once you got it, you got it, and sometimes you need a lot more help than just moving away.

    Check out Maggie’s new Memoir Hangovers in Japan by Samari Shelby (pen name).

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • 5 Tips for Staying Sober at Events Where Everyone Else Is Drinking

    5 Tips for Staying Sober at Events Where Everyone Else Is Drinking

    You don’t have to miss out on all the fun, just the part you thought was fun but always ended in trouble.

    Summer is well under way! Everyone wants to be a part of grilling out, parties, concerts, and outings with friends. Often these events include alcohol use. Fear of missing out (FOMO) is a real feeling people struggle with in sobriety. What will I do with my free time? Will I have to find new activities? Will my friends abandon me on weekends? You won’t lose this fear when you first make the choice to go sober; you might not ever lose it.

    Imagine any of the following scenarios: 

    – A friend invites you to an open bar bash.

    – Your favorite band is playing as part of a daylong music festival where folks start drinking in the morning.

    – All of your relatives are coming to the traditional drink-till-you-puke Memorial Day pool party. 

    What can you do? I don’t advocate putting yourself in a position where you might compromise your sobriety, such as attending an event like Beerfest, where the focus is solely on drinking. But you can enjoy events that include alcohol while staying sober. You need to prepare appropriately and know your limits during the event to set yourself up for success.

    You can easily fill your calendar with sober events and dry venues. There are various recovery groups and organizations that throw “sober” parties. I’ve been to many and they are as good as the effort you put into having a good time. You can check meetup.com or google sober events in your city to find them.

    I spent the first year of my sobriety quietly healing and feeling bitter that I couldn’t participate in the drunken stupidity I had always been a part of. But I haven’t shied away from events since then. I’ve learned it’s important to do some thinking and planning ahead of the event. Arm yourself and have a strategy – think about who you’ll be with, how you will respond if asked to drink, what you’ll do if you start feeling an urge, and most importantly, how you’ll have your own special fun at the event.

    I recently attended a weekend-long music festival. The venue had alcohol and many people started drinking when they arrived and kept going. I felt urges at times, but they weren’t unexpected. Since I had prepared myself, I knew how to handle them. 

    Here are some specific ways I approached the weekend and similar events since becoming sober five years ago.

    1. Get a Support Person

    Attend the event with someone you trust to look out for you. Perhaps this person is also sober, or perhaps you will be their designated driver. I’ve had many people play this role over the past five years. The common thread is that each person knew I wanted to avoid drinking. I felt accountable to them and they felt accountable to check in with me.

    I had my 17-year-old daughter as my support person for the music festival weekend. She’s aware that I’m sober and have struggled with alcohol abuse. While I didn’t explicitly ask her to support me, I knew I was accountable to her and responsible for her safety. Attending the festival was my gift to her, so her presence was required. Her age restricted her from purchasing alcohol so we were already on the same page on alcohol consumption. 

    2. Have a Line Ready: “I Don’t Drink.”

    There’s nothing actually complicated about telling people you don’t drink, but it might feel complicated. I understand the turmoil you might feel when someone either offers you a drink or asks what you’re drinking. That moment feels like you have a spotlight shining on you while the crowd breathlessly awaits your answer. You need an automatic way you can refuse the offer, a canned response you can use without thinking. My response is always “I don’t drink.” Nothing complicated, nothing hedging, nothing apologetic. You aren’t wracking your brain for an excuse. You don’t need one. I assure you, anyone worth your time doesn’t care that you aren’t drinking alcohol.

    I stood in the same line to get my seltzer at the festival as the people getting their beer and liquor. Plenty of already lubricated people offered to buy me a beer. “No thanks, I don’t drink.” That’s all it took.

    3. Get a Drink – Something Without Alcohol

    I love ice cold club soda or seltzer water. I slam these back as fast as the bartender can make them. Add a twist of lime or some grapefruit juice and I’m sipping on something sweet along with everyone else guzzling Long Islands or Gin and Tonics. I don’t feel left out, and you shouldn’t either. I’ve never encountered a judgmental bartender, although I made that a barrier in my mind before I started attending events sober. I was sure the bartender would laugh at me; probably ignore me for future drink requests. Never happened. I still get to tip for service. I still get to relax and sip. 

    You can start with making some mocktails or non-alcoholic drinks at home so you know what you’d like to order. Perhaps you’re a simple cola or lemon-lime soda drinker. That’s fine. I personally don’t recommend non-alcohol beer – I found it makes me crave the real thing, which is dangerous when it’s available. Experimenting at home will give you a feel for the taste and action of drinking various non-alcoholic options, but in a safer setting.

    Sometimes sipping club soda or coke without rum leads to stressful conversations with drunk people as the night wears on. I’ve had countless conversations with people about why I’m drinking “Perry Air (Perrier)” and why I don’t choose something alcoholic. I do my best to not act offended on the outside even though I am offended on the inside. No one needs to know what the fuck I’m drinking. But it’s not the time or place to set the person straight. I look at this as a misery loves company situation: Someone gets drunk enough and realizes how miserable they are, so they want to spread the cheer. Fuck them and walk away. (See the next suggestion.)

    I was pleased that I didn’t encounter anyone trashed at the music festival. I drank my seltzers and relaxed. I’d prepared for the worst, considering the heat and length of the event. I was ready to leave if anything felt too uncomfortable or anyone became confrontational. I avoid trouble when I’m sober.

    4. Remove Yourself from the Situation When Necessary

    You are responsible for your sobriety and the choices you make and you need to be aware of your limits. You will learn which situations intensify your cravings to drink. In the beginning, you might try setting time limits: spend one hour at a bar and then check in with yourself to see if you think you’re okay to stay longer. If you begin feeling overwhelmed, you need to have a plan in place. Your support person should be aware that you will leave an event as soon as you feel uncomfortable or vulnerable.

    I knew I’d have several cravings over the course of the music festival weekend. I had one as soon as I parked and saw people pre-gaming with 24-ounce cans of swill in the parking lot. As badly as I wanted to join them, I knew I couldn’t. I had my daughter next to me. We walked to the nearest gas station and bought a coffee, which helped. I followed that up with some texts to a supportive friend who replied that I was certainly not going to let a temporary craving prevent me from hitting my fifth full year of sobriety. She was right, I wasn’t. The cravings went away and the music played on. The weekend went well.

    5. Treat Yourself

    Here’s a fun one. Focus on giving yourself the best time you can without alcohol. If you’re at a sporting event or concert in the U.S., you are saving at least $8 for each drink you don’t have. Reward yourself. Repurpose some of that money for other tasty treats. Most venues have plenty of tempting snack and meal options, easy replacements for drinks, hangover not included.

    Another strategy is to track what you don’t spend. For example, you went to a concert and didn’t drink five beers. That’s a $40 savings so spend $40 on something to spoil yourself or a gift for someone else. Or spend $20 and save $20. You’ll quickly reach high numbers, while realizing you wasted a terrible amount of money on alcohol.

    I used the money I saved from not purchasing alcohol at the weekend festival to justify buying my daughter additional memorabilia during our trip. Win-win.

    Enjoy Yourself

    I’ve struggled to have fun on more than one occasion. You can lose track of the point of going out when you focus on what you can’t do. I used to imagine there was a spotlight focused on me when I’d order my seltzer with lime, cue sound of record scratching, and then I was done for. I can’t promise you’ll have a great time not drinking while others are, or focusing on staying sober while alcohol is around. But I do know that you can still attend events with alcohol if you come prepared. You don’t have to miss out on all the fun, just the part you thought was fun but always ended in trouble.

    You deserve to be with your friends. You deserve to listen to live music. You deserve to be at family gatherings, and you deserve the respect of yourself and others. You’ve likely overcome mountain-sized challenges already. With some planning and structure in place, you can have the social life you deserve.

    View the original article at thefix.com