Answer Addiction

Tag: sobriety

  • Former Amazon Employee Quit Job To Chronicle Journey To Sobriety

    Former Amazon Employee Quit Job To Chronicle Journey To Sobriety

    Kristi Coulter decided to focus on her sobriety more than her life as a person with alcoholism as she wrote Nothing Good Can Come From This.

    For 12 years, Kristi Coulter, who graduated with an MFA from the University of Michigan, worked at Amazon in a variety of executive roles. She also had a big drinking problem and would drink at least one bottle of wine a night.

    Now she’s written an acclaimed series of essays about her drinking and recovery called Nothing Good Can Come From This.

    In an interview with Seattle Magazine, Coulter helped shed light on addiction in “tech culture,” which she says has been overlooked for some time. “Tech culture is drinking culture.” 

    People in the tech sector not only drink from the high levels of stress, but also to deal with the rampant sexism that has infected that world for years.

    Coulter discovered she had a gift for writing when she penned an essay for Medium called Enjoli, which received wide acclaim and led to her book deal.

    Coulter told The Woolfer that her book is “a raw, frank, feminist look at what happens when a high-achieving, deeply unhappy forty-something woman give us the ‘one’ thing she really thinks she can’t live without—wine—and has to remake her entire sense of self from the ground up.”

    In writing Nothing Good, Coulter focused on her sobriety more than her life as a person with alcoholism. “My drinking life was so monotonous,” she explains. “I really wanted to spend some time on ‘here’s what it’s actually like to live in a world like that.’”

    Coulter says she’s now five years sober, and she found writing about it to be a great catharsis. “I never expected to make it to this side of the pool. I never thought I’d get to be here.”

    Coulter also runs her own blog called Off Dry, and each blog entry marks her sober days. (The latest entry, where you can win a copy of Nothing Good, is marked “Day 1,879.”) On the front page of her blog, Coulter writes, “I got sober. Life got big.”

    When asked what advice she would give her younger self, Coulter jokes, “I thought, given where I ended up, was ‘Don’t start drinking!’ But that’s an oversimplification. Instead, I’d say, ‘Be aware that you can’t drink away your pain. You can’t drink away the things you don’t want to face.

    “Reality is reality whether you like it or not, and it will still be waiting for you when the alcohol wears off, along with whatever you did to make things even worse while you were drunk—and by the way, people don’t generally make their problems ‘better’ while they’re drunk. Okay! Glad we had this chat, kiddo. Proceed.’” 

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • 5 Ways Sobriety Changes Over Time

    5 Ways Sobriety Changes Over Time

    I want to be able to use my story to let people know that getting and staying sober at a young age is possible and even enjoyable.

    When I first got sober a little over five years ago, I couldn’t imagine a time when sobriety wouldn’t be front and center in my life. The beginning of sobriety felt so all-consuming. It came into play in every aspect of my life and dictated what I chose to do and who I chose to do it with. It was the first thing I thought about when I woke up and the last thing I thought about before going to bed. I thought it would always be that way. 

    But now, five years later, sobriety is just a part of who I am. The role it plays in my life, as well as its prominence, has changed. I no longer think about it every single day. I no longer wonder how I will manage at a social gathering. I no longer worry about what people will think. 

    People so often talk about how sobriety has changed their life, but they rarely talk about how their sobriety itself has changed. As with most things in life, it doesn’t stay the same forever. Here are just a few ways I’ve noticed my recovery change as time has passed. 

    1. It becomes freeing rather than limiting. Five years ago, I viewed sobriety as something restrictive, something that was going to make my life smaller. I thought it would keep me from doing things like going out with friends, traveling, celebrating special occasions. I had no idea that over time, it would actually prove to be the opposite. Over the years, my sobriety has morphed into something that makes my life bigger. It allows me to take chances with confidence I’ve built, not confidence that comes from alcohol. It gives me the opportunity be fully present for every single moment, which is especially rewarding when it comes to traveling. 

    2. It fades from the foreground of your life. Maybe this isn’t the case for everyone, but for me it has been. Early on in sobriety, I thought about it all the time. I planned my days around treatment and 12-step meetings. I talked about recovery often, and about the milestones along the way. Now this isn’t really the case. It isn’t that these things aren’t still important to me, because they are. It’s just that they have become normal parts of life to an extent. Sometimes days can pass and I realize I haven’t even thought about the fact that I am sober. Today it’s just part of who I am at the core and that is something I have become comfortable with.

    3. The motivating factors change and evolve. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still glad I’m sober for many of the same reasons I had when I initially stopped drinking. I’m glad I don’t wake up having to apologize. I’m glad I know what I did the night before. I’m glad I get to skip over the whole hangover thing. But it’s more than all that now. Now, my motivation has deeper roots. Much of the time I’ve been sober, I’ve spent sharing my story and hoping to help others. Over the past few years, that has become my biggest motivator to stay sober. I want to be able to use my story to let people know that getting and staying sober at a young age is possible and even enjoyable. In early sobriety, that was far from a motivation for me because I didn’t think anyone would care what I had to say. Today, I know they do. 

    4. It becomes less taboo of a topic. Early on in sobriety, I often felt like people were tiptoeing around the topic of my sobriety. I’m not sure whether they didn’t know what to say or were just scared to bring it up. Either way, it felt like it was off limits for some people. As time passed, friends and acquaintances seemed to become more comfortable asking me questions, like if I minded if they drank around me, or how sobriety as a whole was going. I know my own comfort level played a role in other’s feeling comfortable speaking about it, but I think some of it was just a natural progression as well. When you stick with something for a long time, it becomes part of who you are and people seem to be more open to discussing it, which I’ve found to be beneficial for both myself and them.

    5. It becomes a source of pride rather than insecurity. It took me awhile, but today I can say I do not have a single ounce of insecurity about my sobriety. I no longer wonder what people will think or whether I should even tell them I am sober. I no longer worry that their opinion of me will change drastically. I’ve realized that it’s on them and not me if they have an issue with the way I choose to live. Today I get to be comfortable in who I am and how I choose to lead my life. Today my sobriety is something I am beyond proud of. I am 26 years old and I have been sober for more than five years. That’s pretty damn neat if you ask me, and I’ve learned that anyone who thinks otherwise isn’t someone I need in my life.

    In writing this, I fully realize these are my own experiences. No one person’s sobriety and recovery is the same as another person’s. As such, the way sobriety grows and evolves will vary. But no matter what, I think it’s important to stop every so often and evaluate how your sobriety is different now compared to early on, and whether those changes are positive ones. It’s so vital to stay in touch with yourself and know what is going on inside, and that is often tied into recovery.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • Steven Tyler On Addiction: I Hurt My Family, I Hurt My Band

    Steven Tyler On Addiction: I Hurt My Family, I Hurt My Band

    “I went down the worst path. I went down the rabbit hole. I went chasing Alice.”

    In a new interview, Aerosmith rocker Steven Tyler revealed that his drug use got to a point where nothing mattered more.

    “I have an addictive personality so I found certain drugs I loved and didn’t stop to the point of hurting my children, hurting my life, hurting my family, and hurting my band,” he said in a new interview with OBJECTified. “There was a point where I didn’t have a band and I didn’t care.”

    The 70-year-old rock star, who’s said he “snorted half of Peru” in his career, was once one-half of the “Toxic Twins” with Aerosmith guitarist Joe Perry, a nickname earned for their rampant drug use.

    “I went down the worst path. I went down the rabbit hole. I went chasing Alice,” said Tyler. “I think rock stars… I felt like I had an obligation to keep that alive. I certainly had my way with women and women had their way with me.”

    Tyler once boasted that over his career, he “easily” blew $5 or $6 million on drugs. “I gotta tell you, if it wasn’t for cocaine, I don’t think the band would have played every state in the United States nine times in seven years. Because there was no MTV back then, Peruvian marching powder, it was like, ‘Iowa, three in a row?’ Give me that,” he said on Ellen in 2012.

    But, he added, “It’s what we did, but you know there is no end to that. It’s death, jail, or insanity.”

    In 2009, Tyler entered his eighth rehab stint, after relapsing on pain medication after more than a decade of sobriety. But he’s been very open and active in his recovery.

    In February, he was a special guest at a drug court graduation in Maui. “You’re my heroes here today because you have come from somewhere that I lived myself,” he told the graduates. “To come out through the wormhole like you’re doing today is a true beyond-belief miracle. I’m so proud of you, each and every one.”

    By talking about recovery, and reflecting on his past, Tyler has a platform to inspire others to value sobriety as well.

    “I want to be in touch with what it means to be in this band and stand for something in the rock and roll community or you fall for anything,” said Tyler. “I don’t want to do drugs anymore for that reason… That place lost me my kids, a marriage, a band, a lot of things and it’s for real. That’s how dangerous that is. So, I take it serious.”

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • Mommy Doesn't Need Wine: The Stigma of Being a Sober Mother

    Mommy Doesn't Need Wine: The Stigma of Being a Sober Mother

    “I’ve always wanted to film the real ‘after party’ when the mom is passed out with her little kid in the background, or she gets into her car and drives drunk. It happens all the time.”

    When I made the decision to quit drinking, one morning in June 2017 when my relentless hangover was surpassed only by my anxiety and self-loathing, I didn’t think about how sobriety would affect my role as a parent beyond the obvious positives: less time nursing a glass of wine and more time to engage with my kids; a clearer morning mind during the pre-school madness; more patience, less irritability. More money.

    What I didn’t consider was my exclusion from the Mommy Needs Wine club. Although exclusion isn’t the right word – it was my choice to leave. I just hadn’t realized how significant a part of my life it was until I canceled my subscription.

    When I first became a mother in 2007, I quickly realized there was an unwritten rule, one that was never mentioned in the parenting manuals: being a mother is hard, and wine (or gin, or vodka, or whatever your particular poison is) makes it easier.

    At that point, I didn’t yet have a Facebook account, and Instagram wasn’t even a thing. Today’s pervasive social media culture gives the Mommy Needs Wine club even more power. It recruits mothers from their Facebook and Instagram feeds, via memes that declare: “The most expensive part of having kids is all the wine you have to drink” and “I can’t wait for the day when I can drink with my kids instead of because of them.” We’re encouraged to buy baby onesies emblazoned with “I’m the reason Mommy drinks” and prints saying “Motherhood. Powered by love. Fueled by coffee. Sustained by wine” (to put in a pretty frame and display on your wall, lest anyone should forget how crucial booze is to parenting).

    “The media makes a ton of money marketing alcohol to moms, playing on the difficulties of being a mom and offering alcohol as the only solution to stress,” said Rosemary O’Connor, certified life and addiction coach and author of The Sober Mom’s Guide to Recovery. “I’ve always wanted to film the real ‘after party’ when the mom is passed out with her little kid in the background, or she gets into her car and drives drunk. It happens all the time, yet it seems so harmless because wine is so much a part of our culture.”

    It’s so much a part of our culture that the Moms Who Need Wine Facebook page is liked by over 726,000 people; that the memes and baby onesies and wall prints are promoted by thousands of likes, shares and crying-with-laughter-face emojis; that even celebrity moms are in the club. Kelly Clarkson said in a January 2018 interview, “[Kids] are challenging. Wine is necessary.” And millions of mothers around the world raised a glass.

    The truth is, this alcohol-dependent culture—if you don’t drink you’re boring, judgmental, not to be trusted (Winston Churchill and his quote “Never trust a man who doesn’t drink” have a lot to answer for)—and the ensuing stigma around sobriety are far from harmless. Between 2006 and 2014, alcohol-related emergency room visits soared among women, according to a study published in January 2018 in the journal Alcoholism: Clinical and Experimental Research. A study published in the International Journal of Drug Policy in May 2015 found that a significant number of mothers said drinking helped them “assert their identity” as something other than that expected of a woman in early midlife. Mothers with young children told researchers the “transformative effects” of “excessive drinking” let them to revert, for a short time, to their younger, more stress-free selves.

    When I started to share my sobriety with friends and family, I received varying reactions. Many people were supportive, some stopped inviting me to parties, and the vast majority were surprised. Not just surprised that I—always the first to suggest a glass of prosecco, always the last to leave a party—was the person who had publicly declared my commitment to sobriety, but surprised that I could even contemplate being a parent without booze. How was I going to get through a challenging day with my kids without the promise of a few glasses of wine to take the edge off? How was I going to reward myself for surviving another week of homework, messy bedrooms, mini rebellions and Xbox arguments if I wasn’t going to do it with wine?

    Back then, I had no answers to those questions. I was simply concentrating on getting through one sober day at a time. That was enough of a reward. What I needed was support and encouragement, not interrogation.

    And then there was the pity. It came in various forms, from the “Oh, you must be so bored?” on one of my first sober nights out, complete with sympathetic head tilt (for the record, I wasn’t bored until I was asked that question) to the barefaced “I feel sorry for you!” at my first sober wedding. The pity was worse than the perplexity and the cross-examination, because it came with a “but.” But this is your choice. But you’re not an alcoholic, are you? (Because alcoholics have to be homeless, jobless, friendless losers.) But you won’t die if you have a drink, will you? But you could just have one, right? People didn’t feel sorry for me the way you feel sorry for someone with a broken leg. Their faux-pity made me feel guilty. It made me question my decision, not because I didn’t think it was the right decision, but because it was a decision that excluded me from so much. I didn’t fit into the drinking culture the other parents in my social circle celebrated and depended on, so where the hell did I fit in?

    O’Connor had a similar experience when she stopped drinking. “People who I thought were my ‘best friends’ stopped calling and inviting me to parties,” she said. “When I was newly sober, the feelings of not being included was one of the most difficult realities to face. Being newly sober, going through a divorce, and having people abandoning me was so painful. I found out who my real friends were and they are still my friends today.”

    Now, with over a year of sobriety under my belt, I feel differently. I’m proud of my decision and the strength it’s taken to get to this point, to stay sober at parties and weddings and nights out when everyone else is getting drunk, and, sometimes, to stay home and miss those occasions because protecting my sobriety is more important than worrying about what anyone else thinks. I’ve also realized that in most cases, how people react to my sobriety has actually nothing to do with me, and everything to do with their own issues with alcohol.

    O’Connor agrees. “I realized that when I was drinking I never wanted to hang out with non-drinkers because it made me self-conscious about my own drinking,” she said.

    It’s difficult to talk about alcohol dependency with a group of friends who’re all knocking back wine while you’re working your way through the mocktail menu. But it’s a conversation that needs to be had. How many mothers are functioning alcoholics or have alcohol dependency issues, but don’t know this because our culture tells them—repeatedly—that drinking is the answer?

    I’m no prohibitionist. (I say that so often I should have it tattooed on a prominent body part.) But I do believe that we need to question the media messages we receive about alcohol. If not for ourselves, then for our kids.

    “Parents of young children need to be aware that when they place themselves on the slippery slope to alcohol use disorder by frequently exceeding recommended drinking limits, they place their young children on that slope, too,” warned George F. Koob, Ph.D., director of the National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism. “We know that young children learn from watching what their parents do and not just from what they say. The children of parents who are heavy drinkers are more likely to become heavy drinkers themselves and develop an alcohol use disorder than the children of moderate drinkers or abstainers.”

    I see my kids benefiting from my sobriety—in countless little ways, every single day. A lengthy bedtime story because I’m not counting the minutes down to wine o’clock. A relaxed morning before school because I’m not hungover, sleep-deprived and snappy. A healthier model for how to administer self-care. A lesson on how to question cultural norms and why, sometimes, taking the road less traveled is the most rewarding journey of all.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • Underoath's Spencer Chamberlain On Sobriety: "I'm A Million Times Happier"

    Underoath's Spencer Chamberlain On Sobriety: "I'm A Million Times Happier"

    “People find different ways to fill those voids, and for a lot of artists, it’s drugs or alcohol. I just had to reprogram my life and find things that were productive.”

    In a series of videos for Revolver magazine’s Lyric Dissector series, Underoath singer Spencer Chamberlain discussed not only the inspiration for the band’s current single, “Rapture,” but also his long struggle with drugs and alcohol, from which he has been sober for more than a year.

    The 2015 reunion of Underoath, which broke up two years early, and the release of their latest album, Erase Me, in 2018, bookended Chamberlain’s recovery. “Being back together definitely helped,” he said. “It’s the first step in pulling yourself out of those places.”

    Chamberlain said that he began his journey of “not using any more” during the writing process of Erase Me, and found that tackling the problem in the band’s music could be cathartic.

    “My thought is writing lyrics that are very honest and brutal and sometimes suck to talk about, hopefully that can help,” he explained.

    In “Rapture,” which is credited to the band and Nashville songwriter Johnny Andrews, Chamberlain likened the pull of dependency to “a mistress—like that person you’ve always been warned about. That, for me, was the other woman. I tried to portray it like sex.”

    But just as toxic relationships become detrimental to both parties, drugs and alcohol shed their numbing properties and bloom into wholly new problems for dependants like Chamberlain.

    “When drugs stop being fun, they start to suck,” he said. “You have that self-loathing all the time—you just beat yourself up, or at least, I did. Which was a huge step in not wanting to have that as part of my life anymore.”

    Chamberlain said that the decision to stop using was anchored to a simple thought—”I’m going to see how far I can go,” he explained—but the process of achieving that goal required a concentrated effort in his part. That included a physical move from his home in Florida to New York City, which he said helped him to “learn a lot about myself.”

    “[New York] is the busiest place in the world, but you’re always alone,” he said. “You have to go out to try and meet people. So you’re always reflecting on yourself.”

    Chamberlain used his time there as a lesson in “learning how to love myself again” before returning to Florida, where he began to refashion his life in sobriety. He deleted contact information for anyone he associated with “partying or anything like that,” including close friends that “probably hate me right now.” 

    Chamberlain also began a regime of exercise and healthy eating with the help of his girlfriend, a personal trainer. He found that these new pursuits provided an outlet for him that delivered the same results as being on stage.

    “When I was on tour, it was way easier to control myself because I got that release all the time,” he noted. “People find different ways to fill those voids, and for a lot of artists, it’s drugs or alcohol. I just had to reprogram my life and find things that were productive—I like to be up early and exercise, do outdoor things and stay motivated.”

    These efforts have allowed Chamberlain to remain sober for over a year and a half. He admits that he’s not perfect, and that sobriety requires constant vigilance, but he also said that he feels a “million times healthier and happier than [he] was even two or three years ago.”

    He’s also hoping that his struggles can help others, whether they’re in another band (“there’s at least one guy, or nine times out of ten, [where] it’s probably gone too far”) or among Underoath’s listeners. In helping to write songs like “Rapture,” Chamberlain hopes there will be “other people who will say, ‘Yeah, me too.’”

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • Clean, Sober And Using Suboxone

    Clean, Sober And Using Suboxone

    Suboxone users deserve a safe space, in and out of the rooms. And we deserve to proudly call ourselves clean and sober.   

    It was pretty apparent when I began taking Vicodin for migraines that I was going to have a problem, but I was too ashamed and afraid to ask for help.

    On the outside, I was a working professional, undergrad student and hands-on mom.

    Beneath the surface I was deteriorating. 

    It wasn’t until my career was in jeopardy and many relationships broken that I finally admitted I was out of control and needed treatment. I learned the hard way: Secrets keep you sick. Addiction grows in the dark. 

    Today, as a nurse in long-term recovery from opiate and alcohol addiction, I’ve made an intentional choice to forgo anonymity and live “Sober Out Loud.” I advocate for everyone in recovery, especially healthcare professionals, using blogging, public speaking, and coaching to do my part to end the stigma.

    My hope is that talking openly will give others the courage to speak up early. That they’ll notice their decline and get help long before their careers and lives are in danger. Choosing to be open about my addiction also supports my healing. I find accountability, connection, and purpose in sharing my experience.

    It wasn’t easy in the beginning – I was terrified of being judged. The opposite has been true – even in the hospital I worked for. Even with colleagues who may have reason to look down on me. I’ve been met with abundant compassion and acceptance. 

    Except I still have one secret. There’s one disquieting fact I haven’t told many people. I’m flooded with fear that I’ll be exiled from the recovery community and excluded from meetings. Petrified that my integrity as a coach and writer will be questioned. And if that’s the case, then what’s my value as a sober advocate?

    There are others who have the same fears, and my silence validates the stigma. Recently, I heard on the radio about a young man who committed suicide. He was tortured by internal conflict; he questioned his sobriety. We share the same secret.

    For that struggling human being, and for everyone else struggling – It’s time for me to be completely open.

    “Hello, my name is Tiffany; I’m an addict and an alcoholic. AND I use Suboxone.”

    This isn’t my opening line when I introduce myself at meetings – nobody has to divulge their prescribed medications to the group, right? The answer’s not so clear if you use Medication Assisted Treatment (MAT).

    On one hand, I feel I shouldn’t have to add a qualifier to the already awkward label I use when attending certain groups. (In the program I regularly go to, we don’t use labels at all, but that’s a subject for another time). On the other hand, it feels like I must add the qualifier, otherwise I’m a fraud. I start spiraling: “Am I allowed to share? What’s my ‘real’ clean date? Can I pick up a chip on my birthday month?”

    In my first month of sobriety, newly on Suboxone, I readily shared at meetings and with a few sober friends. Completely unaware of my disgrace, and totally unprepared for the reactions, I wanted to swallow my words as I was assaulted by:

    “Do you think you’ll be on it long?”

    “You’re going to get off of it soon right?”

    ‘You’re still on an opiate.”

    “You’re still getting high though.”

    “You’re not actually clean yet.”

    “Well you’re definitely not sober. Don’t call yourself sober.”

    “Do what you’re gonna do but don’t talk about it here.”

    “You can’t have a sponsor until you’re done with that.”

    “We all did it without. We didn’t need medication to get clean. You’re obviously not serious – not strong – not determined enough. You haven’t done enough steps. You haven’t gone to enough Meetings.”

    “You’re not sober. Come back when you are.”

    I thought I was sharing success and hope. They asserted I was “cheating the system” and “staying in the game.”

    This inhospitable reception is the reason I’ve stayed silent, the reason I haven’t written about it in my own blog. I found myself avoiding meetings altogether, second-guessing my sobriety; debasing my worth and value in the recovery community. 

    Despite the booming increase in patients using Suboxone, popular opinion – especially in traditional 12-step programs – is that Suboxone treatment and “clean and sober” are mutually exclusive. Regardless of research showing decreased morbidity and mortality of medication-supported patients, and the success addicts are seeing as they put their lives back together, the underlying criticism persists:

    “You’re not CLEAN.” 

    If I’m not “clean” I’m still dirty. If I’m dirty, I must be worthless. And if that’s the case, what’s the point of trying to recover?

    It’s abhorrent that leaders in the recovery community perpetuate the degradation. At a local level, meeting facilitators model this disparaging behavior, despite literature clearly stating that a person’s medication is no one else’s business. (Read The A.A. Member – Medications & Other Drugs).

    Even trusted chemical dependency physicians tout their opinions, adding to the universal disapproval. Dr. Drew Pinsky stated on the podcast “Dopey” episode #124  “I’d rather have them on cannabis.” And though he concedes he’d be open to discussing short-term use with patients to “get them in the door”, he says that Suboxone patients  “replace” other opiates and are merely surviving; that they are “not fully recovered” and “still chronically ill.”

    Still chronically ill? Not fully recovered? In the 3 years since I initiated a Suboxone regimen, I’ve worked tirelessly at making amends. I’ve regained my job as an acute care nurse and clinical instructor in a nursing program. I facilitate Recovery Meetings, and I’ve transformed into a certified Life and Recovery Coach. I’ve repaired relationships with family and friends.  I’m traveling, writing, and above all – finding JOY in living. I’m not an outlier. There’s thousands of us. We’re just not  allowed the safe space to share. 

    MAT is NOT perfect. I’m aware of it’s flaws and have experienced some of them myself. Anyone considering it should carefully review all potential side effects with their physician and trusted, non-biased recovery support. Suboxone causes physical dependence, and there’s severe withdrawal if one quits cold turkey. It is, chemically speaking, an “opiate.”

    Some prescriptions are diverted; I’ve personally cared for patients who admit getting the drug on the street. And with full transparency, I sometimes feel conflicted about using pharmaceuticals to overcome an addiction to pharmaceuticals. I’m not oblivious to the irony. And I strongly assert that any MAT is only truly successful if taken while simultaneously working on recovery of the mind and spirit. 

    But people are dying. We don’t have time to argue over which is the most righteous recovery path.

    After weighing all the pros and cons, searching my soul, and utilizing critical thinking skills I’ve honed in 17 years of working in healthcare, here’s what I’m absolutely sure of:

    Suboxone is right for ME.  I am Clean and Sober. 

    Four years ago I was resigned to being found dead in a bathroom with a needle in my arm. Today, I prove that recovery is possible. I am on a journey toward physical, emotional and mental wellness, and have a quality of life I couldn’t have dreamed up. Suboxone, for now, is a part of my story. As it is for many, in increasing numbers every day.

    Whether I wean off in a month or stay on it forever has no bearing on my credibility.

    It’s likely that someone sitting next to you today in a meeting is on Suboxone. It’s also likely they’re petrified to talk about it, like I was, and might leave the meeting fighting the humiliation of being “unclean.”  

    They might decide that it’s better to go back out and use, since they don’t belong in recovery; or to wean off without a doctor’s supervision, undergoing agonizing withdrawal and back at risk of using street drugs- which is part of my story as well. They might even decide that they don’t belong here – at all. That the only choice is to end their life. 

    What is your role in this? Are you hurting or helping? Consider the language you’re using. Is it pejorative and shame-inducing? Or do you cultivate love and belonging? 

    Those of us in recovery have a responsibility to welcome everyone who is making positive progress towards a sober lifestyle. It’s not our business to take the inventory of someone else’s medication list – it IS our business to eradicate stigma. Offer compassionate acceptance. Keep an open mind. Suboxone users deserve a safe space, in and out of the rooms. And we deserve to proudly call ourselves clean and sober.   

    Next time someone shares with you that they choose to use Suboxone – or any MAT – as part of their journey, don’t criticize. Don’t interrogate or give them a timeline to stop it. Ask how it’s working, and If they’re happy. Ask if they’ve been successful staying off street drugs; if they’ve made strides towards repairing the damage of their past. And when they share with you their clean date, congratulate them on being SOBER. 

    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 reach Tiffany through her blog www.scrubbedcleanrn.com and follow her @scrubbedcleanrn. 

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • How Sponsoring Fellow Alcoholics Is Teaching Me How To Parent My Son

    How Sponsoring Fellow Alcoholics Is Teaching Me How To Parent My Son

    How do I, an alcoholic with a dysfunctional childhood who didn’t even begin maturing until his early 30s, go about the daunting duty of raising a son to manhood?

    Recovery through Alcoholics Anonymous has helped me build an incredible life. A restored marriage, a promising career, and a comfortable suburban home highlight the tangibles; the wisdom of the program and mentorship of its members have provided the intangibles – accountability, purpose, sanity.

    Two years ago marked the most notable blessing to date: The birth of my first and only child, Nicholas.

    This gift, however, also presents my most vexing sober challenge yet: How do I, an alcoholic with a dysfunctional childhood who didn’t even begin maturing until his early 30s, go about the daunting duty of raising a son to manhood? How do I break, as much as any parent can, the cycle of insanity Nicholas has inherited?

    As Nicholas approaches toddlerdom – where he’ll start truly developing lifelong memories – solidifying certain notions of parenthood has become increasingly urgent. “What type of dad do I want to be?” is quickly becoming “What type of dad am I?” It’s becoming clear that these child-rearing concepts aren’t going to magically manifest; I need to search for them.

    And where I keep finding answers is the only relationship in which I’m actually qualified to give guidance: my role as an AA sponsor. Here are just a few of the many parenting perspectives my experiences as a sponsor have helped formulate.

    Coddling Is Counterproductive

    The most meaningful child-rearing principle that sponsorship has instilled in me carries even more significance considering our helicopter-parenting, participation trophy-wielding times: Coddling trades short-term ease for long-term hardship.

    Many addicts, myself included, are recovering from people pleasing as well as alcohol and drugs. Our diseases demanded instant gratification and, by necessity, we were talented at telling people what they wanted to hear in order to skate by or score more.

    When we become sponsors, we must play a longer game. We learn that giving a sponsee an undeserved pat on the back when what he needs is a kick in the ass is not only counterproductive, but downright irresponsible. Enabling a sponsee’s laziness or self-denial can mean being party to his relapse.

    Sponsorship has taught me that I can’t shield someone from tough choices, uphill climbs and heavy lifting. As much as I root for a sponsee, I can’t want his recovery more than he does; as my son grows, I’ll fight similar urges to carry an oversized share of burdens he himself must bear.

    The overall message is clear: work hard for worthwhile goals. In a sponsee’s case, that goal is long-term sobriety and perpetual personal progress; in my son’s, the goal is responsible, upstanding citizenship and self-sufficient adulthood.

    Here, AA is endearingly traditional in its nose-to-the-grindstone approach to progress.

    There is a grit factor in the rooms that, these days, is sorely lacking outside of them. To both sponsees and children, “get to work” is the kind of simple but meaningful instruction that is easily understood and, when followed, results in both tangible and character-building rewards.

    I’m finding that the less I coddle my sponsees the more favorable the result. I am increasingly confident that the same will hold true for my son. Soft sponsorship yields soft recovery. Ditto for soft parenting.

    Keep Calm and Carry On

    Roll your eyes all you want, but when this starting appearing on mugs and memes everywhere, I hoped (beyond hope, it turned out) that more people would adopt a mantra that AA so effectively espouses.

    Few markers are more telling of one’s maturity than the breadth and depth of people, places and things that anger, cower or otherwise derail him. As someone who, according to men with many more years sober than me, had “smoke coming from his ears” as a newcomer, I’ve learned this lesson particularly harshly. It’s taken years of trial and error – of getting a little less angry to similar situations, then reflecting on how useless and toxic that rage was – to form a demeanor even remotely resembling even-keeled.

    Watching my sponsees struggle with this journey – with getting totally jammed up over matters of dubious-at-best significance – is Exhibit A of sponsor-sponsee symbiosis. As I talk my sponsees down off the inevitable next ledge, I remind myself to practice what I preach.

    I am committed to developing this big-picture, c’est la vie attitude in my son. And while anyone with a two-year-old understands how successful I’ve been thus far (not much, if at all), I can look to my own imperfect, ongoing transformation as proof that progress takes trial, error and – most of all – time.

    For now, this concept lives in little things. “I can see that you’re very sad about having to stop watching TV, but you’ll see Peppa Pig tomorrow,” I’ll tell a crying Nicholas, as the credits of his favorite show roll while I usher him off to bed. Or “It’s PJ time,” I tell a sobbing, splashing boy engrossed in his bathtime toys. “We’ll get all dry and get some milk, how’s that?”

    These gentle nudges, I hope, will push Nicholas toward a more bird’s-eye worldview where he realizes that the little things in life aren’t worth getting upset over. As he grows I’ll instill in him, gradually and imperfectly, that a precious few things warrant more than a brief moment’s annoyance. Here, my role as a sponsee gives me the best chance to break yet another inglorious familial cycle: rage-aholism.

    Think for Yourself

    Though AA most assuredly isn’t a cult (cue the usual troll bile in my comment thread), at times it is certainly prone to an unsophisticated, unhelpful herd mentality. There are sayings and beliefs in the rooms that I find silly, arrogant, or wildly inaccurate.

    I am upfront about this with my sponsees; they are free to disagree with me on any of my program-related peccadilloes. The overarching lesson is each of us needs to find a recovery that is workable within the construct of our authentic self. “Faking it to make it” will only take us so far; eventually, recovery through the 12 steps is a journey in self-discovery, one which, per popular program prose, demands rigorous honesty.

    First and foremost is the childish belief, held by far too many in AA, that God has saved them specifically. Simply put, this implies that God chose to let others die. I often wonder whether the person proclaiming such nonsense realizes that his belief system is based on declaring himself more special than fellow sufferers. Neither my sponsees nor my son will be weaned on such pompousness.

    Oddly, another whopper that permeates AA is the polar opposite of this holier-than-thouism. It is uttered every time a newcomer is told that his experiences, strength and hope matter as much as someone with longstanding sobriety – that each of us “only has today.”

    This well-intending white lie creates an unproductive false equivalence between those who’ve thoroughly followed recovery’s path and those just beginning to trudge the trail. Because AA – like parenthood, I’m educated-guessing – is about mentorship more than anything else. My responsibility to pay it forward isn’t as relevant if everyone has the same amount of currency.

    This all boils down to three words that I find myself repeating to sponsees and, because of this, will find myself repeating to Nicholas: “You’re still learning.”

    Sit back. Relax. Learn. Don’t overextend yourself. No, sponsee, you shouldn’t go to a bachelor party in Las Vegas at four months sober. I have enough sobriety to handle that, you don’t. Yet. And no, 17-year-old Nicholas, you aren’t driving across the country with your friends because you aren’t ready to do that. Yet.

    These are just a few examples of how the privilege of guiding recovering alcoholics through the 12 steps will help me guide my son through childhood. As my sober experiences grow in tandem with my son, there will undoubtedly be many more points where sponsorship intersects with parenting – much to Nicholas’ benefit.

    And of course, there’s this: if Nicholas comes home with his eyes pinned, I’ll know what’s up. My rocky past and recovering present will allow me to recognize the warning signs of the scourge of my son’s generation: opioids. Should that day come, my recovery may help save my son’s life, as it did my own.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • Selma Blair Celebrates Two Years Of Sobriety

    Selma Blair Celebrates Two Years Of Sobriety

    “I prayed for a miracle at my lowest points. I am a living miracle. Thank you,” the actress wrote in an Instagram post.

    Actress Selma Blair had two reasons to celebrate this week: her 46th birthday as well as her second year of sobriety.

    Blair, who has starred in films including Hellboy and Legally Blonde, took to Instagram to announce her achievement.

    “2 years sober. 2 years feeling everything and nothing. 2 years of extreme gratitude and humility and grace,” she wrote in her post, which included a photograph of herself with a birthday cake. “I thank the lord and my friends. Thank you for the most special birthday week @fran.anania #amypines #arthursaintbleick.”

    Just last month, Blair admitted to having struggled with alcoholism, anxiety, and depression, but has been winning in her struggles as of late.

    “I prayed for a miracle at my lowest points. I am a living miracle. Thank you. Thank you. #birthdaygirl #almost46 #summersolstice #grace,” she wrote in her post.

    Blair hasn’t hid her struggles with depression and anxiety from fans. In a throwback post she wrote in May, she reflected on her career in Hollywood, including the highs and the lows.

    “For better or for worse. I want to have hope again. I want to thank you all for believing in me. I want to find the right work for me. And for me as a mom and as a woman who has come so far in personal ways,” she wrote in her May post. “I want to make us all proud. 21 years later. #heartonsleeve Opens a New Window. It’s a random Tuesday. Maybe miracles will happen.”

    The Cruel Intentions star once had a meltdown on an airplane flight, allegedly brought on by mixing medications with alcohol.

    “I made a big mistake yesterday,” said Blair after the incident. “After a lovely trip with my son and his dad, I mixed alcohol with medication, and that caused me to black out and led me to say and do things that I deeply regret.”

    A few months after the incident, Blair gained some new perspective on the incident.

    “Hopefully everyone on the plane is doing fine now too, because it was very destructive,” she said on The Talk. “I am someone who should never drink, and I rarely do, and I don’t drink anymore, but I was going through something. I had a glass of wine and someone gave me a pill that I thought was something that I’d taken before… it was something completely different… and I had a total psychotic blackout.”

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • Drag Race Star: Sobriety Taught Me A Different Way To Look At My Life

    Drag Race Star: Sobriety Taught Me A Different Way To Look At My Life

    “I have a long journey to continue of loving myself, but I can start by doing a few things today to get to where I want to be in life.”

    In a recent interview, Blair St. Clair, a former contestant on RuPaul’s Drag Race, addressed his DUI arrest, life as a sober drag performer, and unpacking the trauma of his sexual assault.

    The 22-year-old Indianapolis native, born Andrew Bryson, was eliminated from Drag Race back in April, but the impact he made by speaking up about his sexual assault still resonates.

    He revealed on the show that his first sexual experience was being raped at a college party. Bryson shared with Mic in a recent interview that he had “not talked to another human being in my entire life about that… It’s something that I didn’t want to believe.”

    It didn’t dawn on him until later that he was in denial for a long time over how he had been hurt.

    “I didn’t understand myself because I had so many emotions that I hadn’t yet felt,” he said. “Those things inevitably were still working without me knowing that they were working in my brain.”

    After his DUI arrest in March 2017, the budding star watched as his mugshot went viral and became tabloid fodder. It was a difficult time, he said, but necessary for him to make a change. “Thank you TMZ. Because TMZ is the reason and the wake-up call I needed to see a mugshot of mine spread like wildfire across the media.”

    This prompted him to become sober. “It really comes down to acceptance… Are you being honest with yourself that you have a problem? Or are you telling yourself you have a problem because that’s what you want people to hear? … Do you also desire to seek change?”

    When interviewer Evan Ross Katz asked what sobriety has taught him, Bryson responded, “What has sobriety not taught me? Sobriety has taught me a different way to look at my life. I’m not perfect, I make mistakes, and I’m still growing… It allows me to take a pause and step back and reflect and look at my life and look at my choices. And recognize that I am in control of my life today.

    “I finally decided to look at my life as a means for loving myself. Because I didn’t recognize and I didn’t know and I didn’t understand for such a long time that I was not in a place of loving myself… I have a long journey to continue going of loving myself, but I can start by doing a few things today to get to where I want to be in life.”

    Despite heavy drinking being a large part of gay culture, which Bryson also discussed, being able to distinguish drinking and partying from performing as Blair St. Clair helped keep him focused on his sobriety.

    “We celebrate by drinking when we’re happy, we’re mad, we’re sad, any emotion we feel. I had to remember… these changes were made for me, they were made to protect me, but they were also made to protect my career at the end of the day.”

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • "The 13th Step": Inside AA's Subculture Of Sexual Predation

    “There are groups in AA where you could call it a meat market,” says one former AA board director.

    Sexual predation in Alcoholics Anonymous is a troubling and common occurrence, according to The Orange County Register.

    The “avalanche” of allegations against former Hollywood power players like Harvey Weinstein and Kevin Spacey “have been a horrifying reminder of the prevalence of sexual assault, harassment, exploitation and abuse in American society,” the Register noted—and AA meetings are no different.

    Some men there, too, use their stature and influence to prey upon unsuspecting women who are otherwise simply seeking recovery. (It happens so often, in fact, that it’s commonly referred to as “The 13th Step.”)

    Unfortunately, “there is something uniquely heartbreaking” about sexual abuse in AA, Vice noted, as their members are routinely encouraged to “look for their part” in the events that have transpired. 

    Many argue that AA, by its very design, is to blame.

    “Victims, former officials and some members say the culture of the organization—unregulated and loosely organized—puts vulnerable alcoholics at risk to predatory leaders whose only credential is their longtime sobriety,” the Register reported.

    Additionally, some members of AA are sexual offenders whose presence in the rooms is court-mandated. Unless someone volunteers their criminal history, no one would be the wiser.

    Offenders, thanks to the program’s core tradition of anonymity, can hide in plain sight. While a representative for AA’s General Service Office in New York told the Register that each local group operates independently, AA leaders in the U.S. and Canada have since developed guidelines and literature that specifically acknowledges the inherent danger of sexual predation.

    As such, the fellowship created a “safety card” that reads (in part): “We request that members and others refrain from any behavior that might compromise another person’s safety.” 

    Still, many critics insist that AA’s General Service Board can do far more to protect its members than printing up a small yellow card: “Each group is autonomous. That’s… an excuse not to use the power the board has to stop abusive behavior,” James Branscome, a former AA board director, told the Register. “There are groups in AA where you could call it a meat market. You have older guys hitting on newcomer women. Some groups are hijacked by gurus, and AA will claim they have no power to do anything about it.”

    Meanwhile, sexual attacks involving AA leaders keep mounting in California, the Register reported, detailing several cases of abuse, rape and murder that have occurred in recent years. Sexual predation, however, remains a thorny cultural issue within the walls of AA meetings.

    As some men take dark advantage of anonymity and vulnerability, the women who’ve been victimized continually find themselves in an outrageously precarious position.

    One woman, for example, told her sponsor about a rape and was quickly discouraged from going to the police. Sadly, that became a common refrain for the victim, as fellow AA members told her that she was scaring off newcomers with her story.

    “They said I was ruining people’s chance to get sober,” she said. “Rape was an outside issue.”

    View the original article at thefix.com