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  • Ben Affleck Opens Up About Alcoholism

    Ben Affleck Opens Up About Alcoholism

    “Some people are sort of uncomfortable, but it doesn’t really bother me to talk about alcoholism. Being an alcoholic is part of my life; it’s something I deal with,” Affleck said.

    Over the years, Ben Affleck has been increasingly transparent with the public about the place that drinking has had in his life, and in a recent interview with Today, he continued that honesty.

    “I had a problem and I really want to address it and I take some pride in that,” he told Hoda Kotb. “It’s about yourself, your life, your family… we encounter these kinds of hurdles and we have to deal with them.”

    Affleck continued, “I mean, some people are sort of uncomfortable, but it doesn’t really bother me to talk about alcoholism. Being an alcoholic is part of my life; it’s something I deal with.”

    While alcoholism is something that Affleck lives with, he’s determined not to let it define him.

    “It doesn’t have to subsume my whole identity and be everything but it is something that you have to work at,” he said.

    In 2012, Affleck interviewed with Barbara Walters and explained how alcoholism had defined his childhood.

    “[My father] was an alcoholic… I did know that as a child. He drank a lot. My father was a—what did they call him—a real alcoholic. He, you know, drank all day, drank every day, and to his credit, he got sober ultimately. He’s been sober for several decades, which I think is pretty impressive.”

    Affleck stopped drinking at age 24, after he and Matt Damon won the Oscar for their movie Good Will Hunting.

    Then in 2001, after a highly-publicized break-up with Gwyneth Paltrow, Charlie Sheen drove Affleck to Malibu Promises. “I went to rehab for being 29 and partying too much and not having a lot of boundaries and to clear my head and try to get some idea of who I wanted to be,” Affleck later told The Hollywood Reporter.

    From 2004 until 2018, Affleck was married to Jennifer Garner. Married life with three kids was quiet until Garner and Affleck split, and since then Affleck has had a series of semi-public incidents with alcohol, the last culminating in having alcohol delivered to his house.

    Shortly after, toward the end of 2018, the actor was photographed in the back of a car with Garner driving him to rehab.

    On Today, Affleck called Garner a “great mom” and said he was lucky to co-parent with her.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • Twin Addictions And Parallel Recovery

    Twin Addictions And Parallel Recovery

    In hindsight, we both had tell-tale signs of the addict – irrational fear, feelings of inferiority, flights of fancy. But there was no room for two troubled twins in our divided, post-divorce household.

    I’d always been the golden twin by default. To quote the Radiohead song, I was “fitter, happier, more productive” than my twin brother BJ. I came out first, and he popped out seven minutes later.

    I was right-handed, and he was left-handed and had trouble writing and reading. He repeated kindergarten while I galloped on to first grade and was writing in my “Daily Log” in Mrs. Thornton’s first-grade class in no time.

    BJ was the needier one. Even though, as fraternal twins, we looked almost identical, I had a rounder face, a perkier smile, and a confident swagger that BJ lacked. He was literally always been behind me — at birth, in school, in life. I don’t know exactly what happened in the womb, but the evidence supports the notion that I drew the longer straw and got the better food and cozier reclining position.  

    BJ was also neurologically impaired. In our early teens, having already been tagged with Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD) and Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD), BJ was diagnosed with Tourette’s Syndrome.

    I was gay and suffered from acute anxiety starting around the same time, but I was an A-student and a blue-ribbon swimmer. I didn’t have any genuine self-confidence, but my steady accomplishments kept me trudging along while BJ treaded water.

    In hindsight, we both had tell-tale signs of the addict – irrational fear, feelings of inferiority, flights of fancy. But there was no room for two troubled twins in our divided, post-divorce household. So, I squashed my troubled side whether I was fully conscious of it or not.

    It wasn’t until 20 years later, when BJ and I both hit bottom and ended up in recovery, that our paths finally converged.

    I had plenty of childhood fears, but BJ’s, namely getting older and TV’s The Incredible Hulk, were more outwardly irrational. As a six-year-old, I didn’t rule out monsters living in our closet and didn’t love those scenes of Bruce Banner transforming into a hulking green monster. BJ showed it, though, by letting out a gut-wrenching scream and darting away from the TV set.

    One Sunday night, after an easy pill of The Dukes of Hazzard, my parents, still married at the time, decided to try to some conditioning and forced BJ to stay in the room during one of Banner’s transformations. My mother majored in child psychology in college, and I have no doubt it was her idea. She taught me to swim by pushing me in the deep end.

    BJ wailed and shook. It was unbearable to watch my twin writhing in terror. The intention was good I guess, but I think my mother saw A Clockwork Orange one too many times. My “happier” side was a mask, but the Hulk incident was an early indication that I needed to keep wearing it. 

    BJ’s Tourette’s started off as grunts and tics but progressed quickly into verbal outbursts. He started off by snarling at our younger sister Melanie. To be fair, she was a pain in the ass. But his actions felt involuntary. Even when she wasn’t provoking him with her brattiness, BJ would unleash his made-up epithet (“Bratface! Bratface!”) every time she entered the room sending her off in tears. I saw in his eyes and in his sunken body language that he didn’t mean it. But he had to say it. 

    Over the next few years, his disease became even more profane. During Family Day at the reputable all-boys Catholic high school my father forced me to attend without my twin, BJ yelled out during church, “Fuck God! Fuck Jesus!”

    I turned and shot him a piercing look. I hated this place and would have liked nothing more than to be sent to the nearby public high school with my middle school friends. But I was devastated. Why did he have to express this inside the church? Why couldn’t he wait until we got outside? I already felt like one of the awkward and unpopular students at the school. My anxiety caused by being an effeminate gay kid drowning in a sea of masculinity was no less emotionally crippling than BJ’s Tourette’s. It was just more manageable and easier to internalize.

    We were mirrors of each other, and my reflection had a seemingly incurable and publicly humiliating disease.

    By the time BJ’s Tourette’s was peaking, my parents, now divorced, agreed to take him to Washington DC to see an expert who wrote a popular book and specialized in the treatment of OCD, a regular companion to Tourette’s.

    But I don’t think the doctor knew enough about Tourette’s to justify the cost of treatment and regular travel from where we lived in New Jersey to DC. BJ started seeing a psychiatrist who prescribed meds, but nothing seemed to quiet his Tourette’s. If anything, it was getting worse.

    One night, dosed up on Prednisone, he huffed and paced our bedroom in a panic, repeating, “Why is this happening to me?”

    I felt like a witness to an exorcism gone awry and couldn’t understand why the doctors had prescribed a steroid to a kid who was already amped up. Unlike with the Hulk, there was no off switch. 

    By my late teens, I had grown ashamed of my other half and started to pull away from BJ. We were now technically in the same grade. He managed to skip a year with the help of a learning specialist, but we still weren’t like other twins.

    Unlike the Kean brothers, twins our age and equals academically and on the baseball diamond, BJ and I were in totally different orbits. I was on a college track, and he was still barely squeaking by in school. He was being home-schooled, because of the humiliation he experienced in the less competitive private high school he had been forced to attend.

    The sweat pouring from my palms left noticeable handprints on the black desktop in biology class, but I could quickly wipe them away with my shirt sleeve. BJ, on the other hand, couldn’t hide his nervous grunts and was being accused by his classmates of masturbating in the back of class. It always seemed worse for him. 

    In the last few months of my senior year, I was bullied by a homophobic wolfpack. I tried to get help from school counselors and my unambiguously queer gym teachers, but they were powerless to stop it. I had already been accepted to a top university in the Midwest, so I just needed to wait it out. Any guilt I felt over leaving BJ behind was replaced by the promise of a fresh start and the chance to operate as one person instead of an abler, less tortured half. 

    I tasted freedom in college, but halfway through school that freedom morphed into full-time partying. I was sexually active with boys and openly gay (or at least bisexual). But I had a river of shame and guilt coursing through my veins. Coupled with the trauma from high school and decades trying to keep up appearances against the weight of my disabled brother, I was suing my father and grandparents over a mishandled trust fund.

    I had left BJ behind to bear the brunt of my father’s rage. Alcohol, marijuana and cocaine offered a quick transfusion. 

    By senior year, I was skipping and failing classes. I was no longer the card-carrying A-student and golden child. Meanwhile, a few hundred miles away, BJ had started using too. Using the same cocktail of alcohol and drugs, he finally found the effective medication he’d been seeking all along to quiet his tics and offer some relief. Separately and for different reasons, we’d succumbed to identical, or more accurately, fraternal addictions.

    My addiction progressed into my early thirties when I had a psychotic break. Living in Los Angeles with a coke dealer on either side of the 405 freeway, I started experiencing panic attacks every morning for months. I went into therapy and started taking prescribed meds for the first time in my life. But BJ, now 3,000 miles away, became my genuine life-preserver. I called him begging the same question he had asked me decades before, “Why is this happening to me?”

    I didn’t expect an answer, but I finally understood his paralyzing terror from that night in our bedroom. Also, I knew BJ had been in and out of recovery for years but had never dared to ask about his experience. I had viewed his yoyoing as yet another failure and probably knew that I’d see my own addiction reflected back. Now, facing a dead end, I was finally willing to listen. The next year later, five days after our 33rd birthday, I walked into AA and didn’t turn back. 

    Ten years later, I’m still sober and working a program. BJ, who had a handful of relapses in my early sobriety, has almost eight years. Statistically, I don’t know what our chances were before we got sober, but I never would have predicted this outcome. We’ve achieved equilibrium together, and I’m no longer seeking anything outside of twin relationship to make me feel more unique. I turn to him to remind me what real courage looks like. I might have the fuller head of hair – BJ’s slightly more effective meds have thinned his – but today neither of us is the fitter, happier, more productive twin. 

    Brett Fenzel is a professional script reader for a New York-based film production company. In addition, he has had film reviews and essays published on HuffPost Blog and is currently working on his memoir tentatively titled “The Twenty-Year Divorce.” After 16 years in Los Angeles, Brett left the states in July 2017 and is now working remotely and living with his husband in the south of France. Brett can be found on Linkedin, and you can follow him on Twitter.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • Michael Phelps Speaks Out About Battling Depression, Anxiety

    Michael Phelps Speaks Out About Battling Depression, Anxiety

    “I was so down on myself. I didn’t have any self-love and, quite honestly, I just didn’t want to be alive.” 

    Michael Phelps has won 28 Olympic medals, but despite his incredible history as a swimmer he’s also had serious bouts with depression, anxiety and alcoholism.

    Since getting help, Phelps has been very open with the public about what he went through, but he recently admitted on Today that he’s “struggling weekly” with his mental health.

    “From time to time, I’ll have bad days where I do go into a depression state,” Phelps said. “Being an athlete, you’re supposed to be strong and be able to push through anything. My struggles carried on through my career and I hid them well. There are so many people who struggle from very similar things that I go through and still go through… At times, it was a little scary and challenging to go through, but I found a way to get through it and I’m addressing these issues that I have.”

    Phelps has certainly come a long way since he hit his personal bottom in October 2014. Phelps said he was so engulfed in despair, he couldn’t leave the house for five days and felt suicidal.

    He admitted that he had “at least half a dozen depression spells” before this one. He recalled, “I was so down on myself. I didn’t have any self-love and quite honestly, I just didn’t want to be alive. It was a really, really, really crazy time for me and I didn’t want to see anybody. I saw myself as letting so many people down—and myself in particular. That’s hard to carry.”

    Finally something in Phelps clicked, and he “realized that I can ask for help and it’s going to be okay. For me, that’s what changed my life. I never asked for help really ever in my career. That was the first time that I really did that. I was basically on my knees, crying for help.”

    Since that dark time, Phelps has been very involved in getting help for others. He’s on the board of TalkSpace, a teletherapy company, and he was also interviewed for a documentary, Angst, where he discussed his anxiety.

    “I’m lucky to be able to sit down with a therapist and chat and talk and open up,” Phelps says. “It’s challenging for people to do… It’s something that continues to teach me more and more about myself.” 

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • Sober Dating: Overcoming Triggers & Temptations

    Sober Dating: Overcoming Triggers & Temptations

    The date turned out to be a boobytrap of triggers that I wasn’t totally prepared for. But mindfulness, resilience, accountability – recovery – kicked in when I needed it most.

    I startled as my phone buzzed a text against my thigh. It was my date.

    “I’m late, but I’ve got tacos!”

    Relax, I urged myself, taking a breath and taking in the surroundings. It’s going to be fine. It’s just tacos.

    This was my first date in well over six months. Unless you include a Saturday night in late August while I vacationed in Iceland. We ran all over Reykjavik searching for traditional lamb meat soup, to no avail. It was whimsical, it was carefree, but it was all the way in Iceland. And it didn’t even end with a kiss. This taco rendezvous felt like a legitimate return from a dating hiatus. 

    Dating is challenging. Sober dating can be truly precarious. First of all, I have very little courtship experience. My M.O. has always been meet, mate, marry. Eventually, I learned not to wed every guy who showed interest. Twenty years of consecutive long-term relationships meant that at 36 years old I became sober and legitimately single, for the first time in decades. SCARY.

    At the very least, it’s uncomfortable. And why do so many of us drink? To treat discomfort! “Meeting for drinks” is both neutral ground, and grants permission for each party to self-medicate throughout the ordeal. 

    It’s natural to want a strong drink (or in my case a strong drink and maybe a powerful pill) to relax. When I’m home getting ready, agonizing over my hair, outfit, and what to say, “just one” would go a long way towards numbing my nerves. But “just one” steers me down a dangerous path. Before I know it, I’d be back on stage at POP-Solo karaoke, blackout wasted, singing “Sexy Back” off key. (ALLEGEDLY! There’s no evidence.) It’s just not worth the risk. 

    Deciding when, or whether to “out myself” as sober to a guy is always a gamble. He had mentioned “wine” more than once as a suggestion for our first activity. (An early red flag I adeptly ignored). Refusing a glass in the moment can be difficult and awkward, so I casually commented prior to the date, “I actually don’t drink…but if you want wine, it’s cool.” When he didn’t respond with the all-too-common: “Really?? You don’t drink ever??!!??” my optimism was buoyed.

    So I waited for Taco Guy with zero alcoholic pre-lubrication, counting breaths as a healthy coping mechanism instead of throwing back shots at the bar. He arrived, tall and attractive. He had a large bag of local Mexican food in one hand, a spirited canine attached to a leash in the other. He even brought me a Fresca, remembering my preference for sparkling water. Fresca is no La Croix, but he got points for thoughtfulness. 

    The date started out smoother than expected. As dinner wrapped up, he clumsily remarked he wasn’t sure what to do next. “Normally I’d take you to a bar, go wine tasting…something revolving around drinks.” My teetotaling ways left him at a loss. 

    I remember those days, pre-sobriety. Alcohol: a necessary ingredient for every situation. I once turned down an otherwise solid, yet sober guy over this. “Sorry, beer is seriously that important to me. I practically live at breweries. We’ll have nothing in common!” 

    Taco Guy was stressed about what we wouldn’t get to do together in future meetings. “Wine tasting? BBQs and Beer? How do you have fun without drinking?” 

    In nearly two years of sobriety, I’ve hardly been bored. I secretly questioned his capability for booze-free entertainment, but stayed aloof. “Anything you can do with alcohol, you can do without. I promise. I’m super fun.“

    “Do you do anything bad?” he asked skeptically. I laughed out loud, thinking how he’d probably never know the truth about my former IV drug use and three years left in probation. 

    “Trust me,” I assured him. “I’m not all good.”

    He had a teasing smile. “Oh yeah?” Sweetly persistent and skilled at flattery, he convinced me to bring our dogs to his place. They could play in the backyard and we could watch Netflix. 

    What the hell, I thought. Prove you can be fun!

    Within 15 minutes, I was standing in his small, tidy apartment. He’d called me beautiful and made his interest in me obvious. Did this mean we were going to make out? Was I ready? Do I make the first move? What are the rules?

    In the past, this was easy. Drink, flirt, and use alcohol as an excuse for whatever indiscretion occurred. Sober dating is not easy. Sober sex is on a whole other level. 

    He spoke, blessedly interrupting my thoughts. “I’m going to have a whiskey, do you mind? I’m really nervous.” 

    “Go ahead, of course!” I answered bravely, but thought REALLY?!?! Not fair!! I’m stone cold sober, trying to navigate first date rules, and you get to wash away your worries with hard liquor while I sip water to tame my cottonmouth. UGH!

    He poured a hefty amount of Jack Daniels over ice, and I took the opportunity to use the bathroom. 

    Shutting the door behind me, I leaned against it, worrying. Is he going to kiss me? Or more? Is my deodorant still working? Should I wash under my arms? I should use his mouthwash!

    The mirror reflected back glossy color on my freshly styled hair, nervous rosy cheeks, and a trace of pink lipstick that had mostly wiped off on the Fresca. I looked decent. I’m not a bad catch, for a sober chick. Wait, what if he tastes like liquor? Is it weird if I ask him to use mouthwash? No that’s crazy. Or is it? 

    Leaning into the sink to wash my hands, a familiar sight stood out on the countertop: the bright, cunning orange of a medicine vial. Right there, in plain sight. No cupboard snooping necessary. 

    My vision went fuzzy on the edges. Drying my hands on a towel, I waited for the buzzing feeling to dissipate. I’ve been sober awhile, but I’m not immune to triggers. Medication bottles are not just benign bathroom articles. 

    I chewed on my bottom lip and thought over my next move. One of the labels was readily visible: “Metoprolol.” Phew, I thought. Heart medicine. No big deal. Without warning, my hand took over and snatched up another bottle, turning it label side up. 

    Hydrocodone-acetaminophen. Otherwise known as Vicodin.

    Fuck.

    I set it back down, but picked up another. 

    Oxycodone hydrochloride. Percocet.

    Double fuck. 

    Opiates were my drug of choice, my former best friend and the most seductive, manipulative, toxic lover I’ve ever tangled with. 

    Setting the menacing vial down, I stepped away from the sink, clenching my hands at my sides. 

    I could take a couple. 

    It only took a second for the thought to formulate. I envisioned the euphoric, care-free feeling. Pictured worrisome “first date rules” slipping away, letting go and enjoying the moment.  

    Picking up the bottle once more, I shook it lightly.  

    How many are in here? I bet he wouldn’t notice any missing. 

    The thought was brief. But it was charged with deadly potential. Lucky for me, mindful recovery teaches me I don’t have to believe my thoughts. I have a choice.

    I don’t want this. It isn’t me anymore.

    I extricated myself from the bathroom, delivered from temptation. 

    Taco Guy was on his second tumbler and had stepped outside to smoke. Menthols. Of course! My brand. At least they were, once upon a time. This date presented landmines everywhere I turned. 

    Against my better judgment, I stayed long enough to play with fire. Taco Guy is pretty hot, kind and gainfully employed. I wasn’t planning a future together, but I hadn’t yet ruled out seeing where the night would go. Holding a menthol between my fingertips, I said flirtatiously “It’s been awhile.” I took a drag, hoping I looked dangerous and sexy. Coughing, I just ended up likely looking like a silly girl who hadn’t inhaled in awhile. 

    I stayed long enough to smoke the cigarette and regret it. Long enough to sulk and wish things were different. It’s not fair. I don’t want to be an addict. I want to be normal – I want to be able to get drunk and make out. I wished, for a moment, that Taco Guy and I weren’t so incompatible.

    While I pouted privately, I knew I was kidding myself. The truth is, we are incompatible and I was uncomfortable. I don’t really wish I could drink and have an excuse for my behavior. I definitely don’t wish I could take his pills or go back to using. What I guess I really wanted was just to be on a date where I could be my honest, open, sober-out-loud self. 

    I don’t want to date if I can’t be real. That probably means when I’m genuinely ready, I’ll date guys who are also in recovery. I’d questioned this when I first became single and sober. Who do I date? Can I date someone who drinks regularly? I got my answer this night.  

    Crushing the cigarette in a well-used ashtray, I reached for my keys. 

    He looked rejected. “You’re leaving? I promise to be a gentleman. We’ll just watch a movie.” 

    Within a couple hours in his presence, I’d given in to smoking. Next, I might ask for a sip of whiskey. Once the brown liquid passed my lips, burning the back of my throat, I’d slink into the bathroom. Tilting the bottle of Vicodin back and forth, contemplating the siren song as the pills clicked against one another. 

    Nope. Not gonna happen. I love myself too much to go back there. 

    Driving home, I felt a mix of relief, pride, and sorrow. And a touch of nausea from the cigarette. When was the last time I’d looked a bottle of pills in the face and walked away? 

    The date turned out to be a boobytrap of triggers that I wasn’t totally prepared for. But mindfulness, resilience, accountability – recovery – kicked in when I needed it most. I was tempted, but not overwhelmed. I won that battle.  

    A few days later, Taco Guy texted. I had to be firm and honest. “I can’t date someone who drinks. That’s become very clear. Thanks, and good luck.”

    To my surprise, he replied with a compromise:

    “I shouldn’t drink either. I’ll try to stop. You could be a huge support and help to me with this.”

    As if the triple threat – alcohol, cigarettes and pills – wasn’t enough, co-dependency alarms rang in my ears. The final red flag was flown. 

    Firmly informing him that his request was wildly inappropriate, I blocked his number. 

    Over the last 20+ years, I’ve made really disappointing, damaging relationships decisions. Looking back, all I manage is, “What the fuck were you thinking?” 

    Just for once, I’d like to look at my life and think, “Well done, girl. You’re doing your best. It’s not easy, it’s not painless, but you’re making smart choices.“

    I think that time might be now. I could be doing it right for once. Saying “yes” to a drama free, recovery-centric era of radical self-love. Saying “no” to drugs, alcohol, and self-destructive behavior one nerve-wracking date at a time. 

    Tiffany Swedeen, RN, BSN, CPC/CPRC is a certified life and recovery coach, She Recovers Designated Coach, and a registered nurse in recovery herself from opioids and alcohol. Tiffany lives “sober out loud,” proudly sharing her story through advocacy and blogging and is passionate about helping others do the same. Her goal is to eradicate shame and empower all to live a life of radical self-love. You can contact Tiffany through her website Recover and Rise, read her blog www.scrubbedcleanrn.com and follow her @scrubbedcleanrn. 

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • Demi Lovato’s Sister Says She’s Working Hard At Sobriety

    Demi Lovato’s Sister Says She’s Working Hard At Sobriety

    “We’ve been through a lot together and every single time…we always come out on the other side a 100 times stronger than before.”

    Demi Lovato’s 16-year-old sister said that the star is working hard at her sobriety, 60 days after the singer reportedly started treatment. 

    “She’s working really hard on her sobriety and we’re all so incredibly proud of her,” Madison De La Garza said, according to E! News. De La Garza was being interviewed as part of the promotions for her new movie, Subject 16. During the conversation, she talked about how difficult Lovato’s July overdose was for her family. 

    “It’s been crazy for our family,” she said. “It’s been a lot.”

    De La Garza said that the family is focusing on the positive. 

    “We’ve been through a lot together, and every single time—I mean if you read my mom’s book, you would know—every time we go through something, we always come out on the other side a hundred times stronger than before,” De La Garza said. “So, we’ve just been so thankful for everything—for the little things.”

    De La Garza said that she wants to do “so many little things” with her sister once Lovato leave treatment — including getting frozen yogurt. 

    “It sounds so small, but [I want to] go to Menchie’s,” she said. “Honestly, I’m more of a Pinkberry person, but she likes Menchie’s, and so we usually go there.”

    Lovato is at an undisclosed facility. In early August she released a statement on Instagram, saying, “What I’ve learned is that this illness is not something that disappears or fades with time. It is something I must continue to overcome and have not done yet.”

    She told fans that she would be off the radar while she focuses on recovery. 

    “I now need time to heal and focus on my sobriety and road to recovery,” she wrote. “The love you have all shown me will never be forgotten and I look forward to the day where I can say I came out on the other side. I will keep fighting.”

    Although Lovato has not made any public statements since then, her family members say that she is doing the necessary work to live sober. 

    “I can honestly say today that she is doing really well,” Lovato’s mother, Dianna De La Garza, said in September. “She’s happy, she’s healthy, she’s working on her sobriety, and she’s getting the help she needs.”

    De La Garza added that Lovato’s overdose came as a shock, but that the family’s faith helped them cope. 

    “We just didn’t know for two days if she was going to make it or not,” she said. “I just feel like the reason she is alive today is because of the millions and millions of prayers that went up every day.”

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • New Rehab Reform Laws Aim To Clean Up California's Troubled System

    New Rehab Reform Laws Aim To Clean Up California's Troubled System

    One of the new laws puts a ban on patient brokering. 

    California Gov. Jerry Brown last week green-lit a series of measures aimed at reforming the state’s troubled and under-regulated rehab system.

    One of the new measures, which come on the heels of media scrutiny of the state’s recovery industry, would require rehabs to refer to evidence-based models or the American Society of Addiction Medicine treatment criteria for a minimum standard of care. 

    “It’s an unbelievably unregulated field, and we’re going to try to put our arms around that by requiring some standards and the best scientific evidence before these facilities are licensed,” state Sen. Jerry Hill (D-San Mateo) told the Orange County Register. “We may be able to solve a small part of the problem, and save some lives.”

    The legislation gives the California State Department of Health Care Services five years to figure out the details.

    “This bill would require the department to adopt specified standards for these facilities as minimum requirements for licensure,” the law reads. “The bill would authorize the department to implement, interpret, or make specific this requirement by means of plan or provider bulletins or similar instructions until regulations are adopted and would require the department to adopt the regulations by January 1, 2023.”

    The governor also green-lit other rehab-related legislation, including one bill that puts a ban on patient brokering and another that makes rehab licenses provisional for a year  and revocable.

    Although the Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation, some cities and the Orange County Board of Supervisors voiced support for the new measures, an emergency room physicians’ associations worried whether giving in to NIMBY demands for regulation would work to increase stigma around addiction, according to Cal Matters.

    And, despite what advocates view as legislative successes, some proposals didn’t pass or didn’t make it into the final legislation, including language that would have raised sober living home standards and created criminal consequences for patient brokering.

    “Now we have legislative intent and precedent to address this issue in a larger context,” activist Ryan Hampton told the Orange County paper. “We’re going to continue to build on this success in the next session and in the future. We will get to the point where we have full protections in place. At least we’re not going backwards.”

    Though the various pieces of legislation had different legislative sponsors, at least one credited the newspaper group—and comedian John Oliver—with lighting the spark that ignited change.

    “Thanks to you and the paper and John Oliver for opening my eyes to the issue and the abuses,” state Sen. Hill told the publication. “Southern California has such a prevalence of these facilities. It’s not benefiting anyone, and harming so many people.”

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • Sober Cleveland Police Officer Gives Back To Local Recovery Community

    Sober Cleveland Police Officer Gives Back To Local Recovery Community

    After a lengthy battle with alcoholism, a Cleveland detective got sober and inspired those around him to change their lives.

    Today, Cleveland police detective Chris Gibbons puts the bad guys in jail cells, but in 1992 he was on the other side of the law, sitting in a jail cell soaking wet and shivering after being brought in for public intoxication. After seven years of battling alcoholism, Gibbons had hit rock bottom. 

    “How did the son of a policeman end up here?” Gibbons said to News 5 Cleveland. 

    After that night, Gibbons was determined to turn his life around. He became a police officer just like his father and grandfather had been. And he inspired his sister, Erin Becker, to start her own path to sobriety. 

    “Most of my struggle was internal,” Becker said. “I just got to a point of hopelessness.”

    Gibbons has been sober for 26 years and Becker has been in recovery for 17 years. Now, the siblings run a sober house together, helping women start their lives in recovery. Becker co-founded the Edna House, which has grown over the years, helping woman with limited means get sober. 

    “It started with three women. Now we have 40 women,” Becker said. “The women that come in, they see that the people that are here helping them, the staff, the woman that runs the program, we’re all in recovery. That catches their attention. Nothing is asked of them here. When they come to Edna and the only thing that is asked is, ‘Do you have a willingness to work on your own recovery?’ They know something is different.”

    Gibbons is on the board of directors for Edna House and volunteers with men’s recovery programs though the area. He enjoys seeing the transformation of the 300 women who have graduated from Edna House.

    “They’re almost unrecognizable when they’re done. They look so much better. They feel so much better,” Gibbons said. “You can actually see the happiness and the glow on their face whereas when they came in they were totally broken.”

    In addition, Gibbons serves on the Cleveland Police Department’s Employee Assistance Unit, which helps officers navigate traumatic and stressful situations.

    “It gives you a little credibility,” Gibbons said. “When I approach an officer or someone in the community who is struggling with it, I can say I’ve been there and I have a good life today because of my decision not to drink.”

    Gibbons has prompted other law enforcement officials to become involved in the recovery community and sponsor events. Some of the people in recovery have even followed Gibbons’ footsteps and started a law enforcement career. 

    “Several dispatchers who actually went through this house are sober to this day because of their involvement here,” Becker said. 

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • Woman In Recovery Gives Anonymous Surprise To First Responders

    Woman In Recovery Gives Anonymous Surprise To First Responders

    “We were all a little fried after Thursday night, and so getting that thank you note, it was the nicest thing anyone could have ever done for us,” said one EMT.

    Sometimes giving back is the best way to thank those around you—and that’s the route a woman in New Jersey took when she saw a group of six EMTs out for breakfast.

    According to CNN, the EMTs wrapped up their meal only to find it had already been paid for. The person who paid had left a note reading, “Paid, thank you for all you do! Have a great day!” It was signed “Recovering Addict.”

    Alyssa Golembeski, the captain of the Toms River First Aid Squad, said the waitress came to the table to inform them of the woman’s deed. 

    “EMTs do not eat light,” Golembeski told CNN. “We racked up a $77 bill.”

    Golembeski then asked the waitress if the group could thank the woman, but the waitress said she wanted to keep her identity private.

    “We were all a little fried after Thursday night, and so Friday morning, getting that thank you note, it was the nicest thing anyone could have ever done for us,” Golembeski said.

    The group shared a photo of the receipt on Facebook, in hopes that the woman may come forward. However, that has not happened yet. 

    “To the woman who paid our tab today at IHOP, thank you so much for paying for our breakfast,” the EMTs wrote. “This gift was amazingly thoughtful, and brought our table of tired EMTs to tears. We are so blessed to be able to serve you and everyone else who lives and works in the greater Toms River area. Good luck on your journey of recovery!”

    The post garnered more than 1,000 likes, 700 shares and 70 comments. 

    “I still thank the police officer who found me behind a store leaning against a dumpster,” one Facebook user wrote. “This was in 2005, we weren’t far from a hospital so he put me in his car and rushed me there himself. Him and his wife reached out to me afterwards and we remain close to this day. I know some people think we should just be allowed to die, but y’all work on us no matter what. I’m sober over 11 years now, I’m alive because someone in a uniform thought I was worth it. Thank you for what y’all do… Sincerely, thank you.”

    Commenters also offered their support to the anonymous woman. 

    “To the woman who is remaining anonymous, I hope you find the strength to keep going forward on your journey,” another Facebook user  wrote. “I will keep you in my prayers and hope that if you are reading this, that you know there are people who support you and hope to see you continue on you journey to recovery.” 

    Golembeski tells CNN she and her coworkers have two messages they would like to pass on to the woman.

    “First of all, thank you for buying our breakfast and for literally making my whole week,” Golembeski said. “I couldn’t stop smiling that entire day. Second of all, I just want to commend you for getting into recovery and for beating the disease that is addiction.”

    View the original article at thefix.com