Tag Archives: alcoholic

Meditation and sobriety: I do not think, therefore I do not drink?

12 Sep

11:12 pm

I went to the Shambhala center tonight for a group meditation event. It was OK. Nothing mind-blowing. I mean, the “instructions” for newbies (there were four of us) were pretty funny in how basic they were (how much instruction does one need to sit down and breathe?): sit up straight; put your hands on your knees/thighs, palms facing down; and close your eyes slightly but not totally while you focus them downward. Then, sit like that for however long you want, and focus on your breathing.

I believe we all meditate at certain points during the day, so it didn’t feel all that unfamiliar to like, not be thinking. Shoot, I think I spend QUITE a few minutes these sober days with NO THOUGHTS whatsoever; now that I seem to be naturally dazed most of the time, I like to just stare out my window and well, think about nothing. For hours sometimes. Tonight was different in that I was sitting (ouch, I definitely might want to think twice about that vipassana retreat where you sit from 4 am to 9 pm every day for 10 days), was “mindfully not thinking” (whatever that means), and it was with a group. At first, I found all the little swallowing noises and slight exhalations irritating, but then when I had to do it, I realized that they sort of get drowned out by your mindlessness after a while.

The basic concept of Shambhala is that we are all good, and have inherent love and integrity within — this is our true, effortless nature. Meditation helps us to remember/realize this.

There was a talk afterward by some dude who’s been doing Shambhala for 20 years about “drala,” which is the same concept as life energy or chi. He talked about internal and external drala, and how it’s all around us if we choose to interact with it. One guy spoke up and said he felt “good energy” here, in [cold west coast city] (he just moved here from the east coast); he said that it felt alive, whereas parts of the east coast felt dead. Ironically, I feel the opposite (maybe I’m projecting, or maybe our experience of drala is interestingly quite personal). I wanted to pipe up and say that my “drala” here was in the absolute zero zone on the Kelvin scale, but I let it go. I don’t need to win ’em all. 😉

He also mentioned a point that I took home: feelings like anger and anxiety are actually forms of aggression toward yourself. Shambhala teaches that we are good and deserve to be treated with dignity and love, and that it’s completely unnecessary — and counterproductive — to be aggressive toward ourselves. I feel like my self-judgment and aggressive behavior toward myself runs rampant, and has for as long as I can remember. Why did I drink myself into a tizzy for a decade, doing things that were the pinnacle of self-hatred? Not to mention, wallowing in anger and fear/anxiety for many years over a failed relationship, or a move to somewhere new, or even a trip to a meditation center where I’d be bound to meet, gasp, NEW PEOPLE?

I felt welcomed by the dude who instructed us on how to meditate (for some reason, I blurted out to him that I was getting sober, which I think helped us connect more quickly because I was so honest), but otherwise, the place felt stiff. I felt that the overall vibe was very [cold west coast city] — stiff, guarded, angry, and sullen. Of course, not everyone in the room was stiff, but the entire feel of the place didn’t do it for me.

BUT, I liked sitting and meditating. After about half an hour, we got up and did some walking meditation (basically just walking and watching your feet and not thinking), which was good because my right foot was falling asleep.

I felt *something* like calmer toward the end, but for the most part, my focusing on my breathing made it feel harder to breathe naturally, so that was uncomfortable. And, the sciatica pain was there, so I was continually moving around on my cushion (I’m sure I was “that annoying chic over there”). My hands were sweating and it was hot in the room, but I didn’t want to take off my sweatshirt.

All in all, no minds were blown. BUT, it piqued my curiosity — especially the group aspect. Even though there might be some angry people (shit, I’m probably one of ’em), when we’re meditating, there is a different quality to my own state of concentration that I can already tell might help me progress more into the process than if I were alone. Kind of like studying in a library instead of at home.

And the best part? You can’t drink — or think about drinkin’ — when you’re meditating! Day 26. Woot woot!

Restless and sober, sober and restless. I want some wine.

12 Sep

5:07 pm

I feel restless. I want to drink.

I used to drink to quell this feeling. Now, I am observing it and letting it run its course, possible side effect of being depressed later be damned. It’s a combination of wanting to do everything all at once and not wanting or having the energy to do anything at all.

Like, I feel like I’ve done everything under the sun IN MY HEAD, yet have only run a few errands today (unsuccessfully connecting with a few possible buyers of my stuff, unsuccessfully hunting for a few pieces of clothing, successfully hitting the PO to get my absentee ballot stuff rolling). In my head I’ve gone to shambhala — heck, I’ve gone twice — AND done yoga. I’ve run around the Park, cooked a feast, finished a book — shoot, I’ve read the entire thing, front to back. I’ve not only planned my trip to LA, but I’ve already gone on it and gotten back. I’m already enjoying Oahu, Maui, and the Big Island, and am about to book my flight to Kauai. No, I’m back already — Kauai was awesome!

I’ve applied to a MPH program, painted another picture (well, I used pastels the first time, which I guess I can blog about and show you, but it’s a freaky little creation), and sold the rest of my furniture. I did what I planned to do today on my actual paid editing work.

Man, I could use a glass of wine! YES! A glass of wine (more like two bottles) while watching the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy, again. Which, I’ll SO have time for before the gong of midnight pushes today into tomorrow…

THIS is my day, my restlessness, and why I both drank and hated drinking — I felt the need to calm my mind down to do all this shit, and then got frustrated by how little of it I could get done in a day, a week, a month. (Uh, maybe cuz drinking allows you to do absolute JACK?) I hate waiting, and I love dreaming. I’m addicted to dreaming, to staying in proverbial motion, I admit. In my mind, it’s all possible, maybe even practical!

Reign it in. I don’t want to! I want to celebrate the possibilities with wine! YES.

Yet, deep down, I know drinking wine is a way to put them all off. They take courage, and energy, and patience, all three of which are lacking — at least in sufficient quantities — in me right now.

I hate the fact that I can’t burn off this energy by going for a jog, but that’s injury for ya. I somehow managed to strain my right ankle, so in addition to the sciatic and hamstring pain (which is slowly easing up, thank God(dess)), I’ve got one more little thing making me WAIT. I hate waiting. I really do.

I’m going to give meditation a try tonight at the Shambhala center. Let go. Stop trying to control my time and energy to the point that it turns me manic. Thanks, Sober Boots, for your post on realizing that we need to stop trying to be in control all the time.

Drinking Diaries blog launches book!

11 Sep

3:05 pm

And I can’t wait to read it, cover to cover!

It’s called Drinking Diaries: Women Serve Their Stories Up Straight, and you can grab it here.

In case you don’t know, Drinking Diaries is a blog written for and by women to share their stories about drinkin’. It resonates with me, being that I’m, uh, a woman and a drinker. Well, a sober drinker. I think. For now. Whatever. 😉

Here’s an excerpt from a contribution by Laurie Lindeen (former singer of the early ’90s band Zuzu’s Petals — anyone remember them?), and it’s damn good. (Thanks, HuffPo!) She’s a great writer, and I look forward to reading more of her stuff and more of the entries from the new DD book.

Emotional healing through acupuncture? Yes, yes, YES.

10 Sep

3:47 pm

Wow, is all I can say. I just got back from an acupuncture (and tui na) session with a well-regarded therapist here, and I’m… Drained? Changed? Blown away? Scolding myself for not having done it sooner along in my recovery (I’m on day 24 the second time around; it would have been day 90 today if I hadn’t drunk a couple times in August), AND for not having kept up with my health — mental and emotional — while drinkin’ that I let it get this bad.

The first thing he did, that all acupuncturists do, is “feel your pulse” (along your wrists) to take a read on you — your physical, emotional, and mental health. Mind is body, body is mind, and fixing one without the other doesn’t make sense to practitioners of traditional Chinese medicine. My back pain started 10 years ago, and I knew pretty early on that it was connected to my other problems: former bulimia, self-esteem issues, childhood trauma. (I store my reaction to stress and/or LIFE, considering the amount of pain I feel, almost entirely in my left shoulder). Today’s session told me that it is almost 100% related, as far as how severe it gets and how constant it is.

I told him all about my separate pains (sciatica, iliotibial band syndrome, and generalized pain along my left spine/left shoulder). He mentioned that the pain I was feeling running along my groin and down my hamstring is associated with the liver (energy) channel. HUH. SHIT, I thought. Better tell him. I gulped and admitted it out loud: I’m getting sober, it’s been almost 90 days (minus 2) and well, yeah, it’s been bad. How bad? Oh, I was blacking out about 5 nights of every 7 on a regular basis. Oh, for about 2 years. I’ve been drinking to excess for the past 5-10, I said. That makes a huge difference, thanks for telling me, he said. Not a big deal on his part, but a huge one on mine (I’m sure he sees a LOT of people with mood problems and substance issues. Although, I hope that what he was secretly thinking wasn’t, Wow, she’s seriously fucked UP.).

We then went to work. First, he performed tui na. THAT was awesome. Tui na is a push/pull massage technique; the main goal is to release energy, not so much to massage muscle tension out. Whew, his hands felt like STEEL! He knows his stuff, I thought, grimacing a few times as he dug in and “wrung” out the areas that were in near-splitting pain.

Then, I turned over (I was clothed the entire time; tui na is performed through the clothes) and he stuck two needles in me. That’s it. After my reaction to the first, he said he didn’t want to traumatize me. WHOA. I’ve had acupuncture before, and I’ve cried before from the emotional release it provides, but this was some next-level, out-of-my-world shit. He did some tweaking around both my lower left and right arms — of course, they hurt from typing all the time — and that somehow triggered me. I feel helpless against this pain, and it reminds me of work and stress and my job(s) over the years that helped drill it into me. Then, when he put the needle into my lower right arm and twisted it a bit, he hit a nerve. Literally and figuratively.

I felt a particular sensation of release, of warmth, immediately traveling throughout my right arm and creeping over my entire upper body. It literally felt like warm liquid, and — paradoxically, in this case — both calming and agitating. The twisting of the needle hit a nerve; and along with that raw, shooting pain, I felt emotionally unblocked. It was as if he had also opened up my “emotions” channel, and that started to flow. Boy, did it flow.

I just started bawling. Weeping, actually. I covered my eyes, as I never cry in front of people and in this case, I just COULD NOT STOP. It wasn’t sadness that I was feeling, it was pure GRIEF. Deep and raw and very personal. He told me to let it out, and I did. I told him that I felt so much pain, and croaked out how I felt so much guilt over what I had done while drunk — I feel like a failure, I said.

I continued to shake and cry when he left the room, for about the first 15 minutes of my 25-minute session. When it finally subsided, I felt deeply calm, quite heavy, and ready to sleep. When I got up to leave, I felt dizzy. I stumbled to the front desk, paid him, and looked sheepishly into his unflinching eyes and said, Thank you.

What were the biggest lessons I learned? One, that mind and body are so interrelated it’s sad that it takes us all so damn long to open up to this reality. Yes, reality.

Two, as I was lying on the table, I thought, The day will come when I will be able to shed this body and this brain, and man, I am actually looking forward to that day! Fucking pain in the ass, this life shit! Which, ironically, put me at ease: for the first time, I grasped the concept of three’s, one and two being my body and brian, three being something/someone over or outside each and both. Could it be that there IS something — tangible, present, real — beyond the body and brain?

Three, it became apparent to me that — at least toward the last 2 years, and possibly throughout at times — I drank not to numb myself, but to actually FEEL. I hold a lot of feelings in, repress them. Drinking was my way of expressing the sadness and anger that I wouldn’t and often, couldn’t let out. Sure, it was artificial — why am I crying my eyes out after two glasses of red wine? — and exaggerated — why am I screaming bloody murder at a complete stranger? — but it allowed me to express some version of the real sadness and anger that I felt.

I’m still recovering, and feel sadder than ever today. But, it’s a good sadness, a grief that isn’t artificial. I felt the real thing today. As my mom so eloquently pointed out to me after the one and only time I blacked out in front of her (Christmas, 2011) and dissolved into a teary, confused, sociopathic mess: I truly hope that you can start bringing out some of these feelings when you’re sober. Duh. I didn’t quite get what she meant, but it’s clear to me now.

Packing and moving and a cold…iced tea

8 Sep

9:04 pm

Or, in my case, DC (Diet Coke).

I had a much better day today, and thought MUCH less about drinking than yesterday. Staying strong, kids, no matter what. If I can get through nights like last night, where the only thing between me and wine is sheer willpower, then I feel like the worst is behind me. I can do it, no matter how listless I feel.

Btw, does anyone else have a sense of “whew, that’s done” with the passing of every sober day? I hate to see days go, but I do feel like every day makes the next easier — overall. So, bring ’em fast, and bring ’em hard, cuz I want this shit to get easier!

Anyway, I sold a few big pieces of furniture today, prepared a few more things for sale tomorrow, and ran errands. I also received a few important pieces of mail — still not sure how long I have to stay here in order to fulfill my UI obligations, but it sounds like I can pay a prorated daily rate on my studio if I have to change my move-out date. What a relief. Oh, and my super fixed my toilet. All in all, lookin’ good on the domestic front.

Tonight, I’m not thinkin’ about drinkin’. I’m not letting myself. I’m thinking about future writing projects, new goals, things I’d like to try (visual/physical art — I’ve had a few ideas for some “installation” art and would love to try my hand at basic painting)… I’ll probably do laundry (I’m selling a rug tomorrow and I have to at least try and wash the wine stains from earlier this year out), bake cookies, and read. Kuh-razy Saturday night, eh?

Tomorrow, I’m showing a few more items for sale and going to see my eye doctor to get fit for contacts — all before noon. And, I KNOW I won’t be late or miss these appointments. Why? This right here, my friends.

It’s good to be sober!

Another day, another day sober. Meh.

7 Sep

11:29 pm

I’m probably going to bring y’all down, but so be it.

I’m bored. And lonely. And, well, kind of feeling like I always did before I drank. Which makes me huff and puff to myself, What’s the point of this sobriety thing if I feel the same as when I was drinking?

Like I said in a previous post, the improved mood is subtle. VERY subtle. I want to feel BETTER, awesome, amazing. It’s been almost 90 days (minus 2), and honestly, I don’t feel that much different. I feel sober. ALL THE TIME. 😦

Sure, I’m not hung over and overall, I feel a lot healthier and calmer. The problem I have is, I still think about drinking all day, every day. I still think, Can I drink today, what if I drank today, can I, huh, huh, huh? Please, just one glass? Even if I KNOW I’m not going to drink, have committed to not drinking, these obsessive and incessant thoughts are like the wash on the canvas of my brain. And, I feel restless — not as much, but still restless. Frustrated. Something’s missing. Something HUGE is missing, is how I feel all day, every day. Wine used to quench that fire, which was burning for nothing. Now the fire burns for nothing all day, every day.

It could be that I haven’t truly changed my life. At all. Before, I was going to work at a job I hated, a job that didn’t provide me with any personal satisfaction or sense of creative or professional accomplishment. It ate my soul. Now? I still do the same kind of work, albeit a little less aggravating and a little more fun (science editing instead of technical writing), just from home.

Maybe what I need is a new project, something that I can finally dig my teeth into (like, a book, or a fast-paced reporting job)? Sometimes I think I need a career change. A complete 180 from writing and editing. Something to do with my day that doesn’t seem like just a way to avoid drinking, or pass the time, or strive to improve myself. Pretty much every hobby I have revolves around self-improvement: running, yoga, playing guitar, reading, watching movies that expand my mind. ARG. I need something bigger and different from what I’ve known for 15 years, something that drives me, makes me actually WANT to get out of bed and go to sleep so I can get up and get out of bed to do it again tomorrow. I don’t have that anymore. And, I really have no idea what to do to get it back.

THIS has been a huge part of my descent into becoming a wino: I don’t have a sense of purpose that makes sense to ME, that fills me, so therefore, I have nothing. And, I drink to fill that hole. I panic in trying to find it. I drink to subdue that fear. Maybe I won’t find it? Maybe nothing ever will be as fulfilling — or exciting — as it used to be in my 20s and early 30s? Maybe this is just life?

I often have a feeling of been there, done that these days. Well, it’s been growing since about 33 or 34. And, I HAVE BEEN around and done a lot. I feel like I’ve seriously hit a plateau; there is nothing new under the sun. Ultimately, I’m not sure I have anything left to truly look forward to. That’s not to say that I don’t love life; of course, I do. Deep down, we all do because it’s all we know, life. Yet, the things I think I might really (of course, it’s always got to be “really”) look forward to — volunteering in Africa is one that pops into my head — scare me. Does it have to be such an all-or-nothing life, though? Stay here and rot, or scare myself to death? I need new goals, sure, but I also need to find new ways to enjoy life here and now. This can’t be how it’s going to be forever, otherwise I will drink again.

On top of it all, I flipped a homeless dude off today. It’s downright upsetting living here sometimes. I get so tired of walking around this town, shoulders clenched against the wind, gut protected from the homeless hot messes around EVERY CORNER. Upsetting is an understatement. Traumatizing is more like it! I’ve been called everything from bitch, to whore, slut, cunt, and you-should-be-raped…by complete strangers just walking down the street. Granted, they’re all addicts and/or mental cases, but still…it GETS TO YOU. Yup, it was my mistake to move downtown, but I had no other choice at the time. It’s really hard for me to feel empowered in my own sobriety when I am cowering, in a sense, protecting myself against the mental and emotional drain that is what seems an ENTIRE FUCKING CITY IN RECOVERY.

Yep, I really want to drink tonight.

Another day, another day sober. Meh. I hate to say it, but at least I’m not them, or in their shoes. I mean, most of the addicts I run into here — crack, coke, oxy, heroin, all of the above — are beyond help. Like, I used to think that everyone could be helped, but…these people are like the walking dead. So, I really hate to think this, but I do: I’m glad I’m turning my addiction around before I end up spending entire days, and not just nights, wandering around in the cold, talking to myself in an altered state of stupor.

Peace and love, y’all.

Is it me, or is sobriety actually making me a better writer?

6 Sep

5:18 pm

First of all, thanks to everyone who commented on my post the other day about getting hammered as a reward for, um, not getting hammered. I truly appreciate each and every piece of advice, insight, experience, and warning. It’s helped me to see that yes, this is a form of denial, and no, I sure don’t know much about sobriety or what might be in store for me at day 90. All I know is right now, I don’t want to get drunk, black out, and have a crippling hangover. And, that’s all I need to know for now.

Anyway, I’ve got two things going on, both of which I don’t think would be happening — honestly — if I hadn’t quit drinkin’…going on 21 days ago this Friday (well, it would have been 90 this coming Monday if I hadn’t messed up three weeks ago!). Like I mentioned briefly in another post, I finally pulled the trigger and gave notice on my studio apartment. YES. I am in the process of selling my furniture as we speak in preparation for my move OUT OF HERE at the end of the month.

I can’t tell you how happy I am to be moving on; and while I still catch my breath sometimes when I think, Wow, I’m actually leaving, nostalgia for what was and what may be can only take you so far. This place fucked me up once — I was literally driving around in circles; I began to drink heavily and smash things HERE, in [cold west coast city] — and it did it to me again, even worse, a second time when I moved back. (YOU CAN’T GO HOME AGAIN, no, sir. If anything has ever been bored into someone’s skull, it’s that lesson, in mine, here, and about my time here — coming of age in my late 20s during the dot-com boom in [cold west coast city].) I had never drunk all night and into the next day. I did that here, during the past couple of years. I had never drunk all night and into the next day, and then on the train to work and throughout the day at work. I did that here. I had never drunk and then thrown up and continued drinking, until it hurt; and then kept drinking until I wasn’t conscious. I did that here. I had never OPENED a bottle of wine at 3:30 am and consumed it before getting out of bed and going to work. I did that here. I had never blacked out drunk at work. I did that here. More than once. It gets uglier, but I’ll stop now before I go too far down. It’s done, over with. I choose light, not dark, right?

It’s not that I blame the city per se, but it has had a hand in contributing to life circumstances that yes, I chose, but that also ended up driving me to drink, literally. As a friend just emailed me (and I paraphrase): That city has left you with jobs you’ve hated and people who have hurt you. It’s time to cut your ties, emotionally and tangibly, and start over. YES, YES, YES.

I’m glad, though, I quit drinking so that I could come back here and be sober. I am living in [cold west coast city], sober. It is not the city that is causing me to drink, is what I needed to see for my own sanity. I can be and stay sober anywhere, even here.

But, I digress. The second thing is I’ve got some paid editing work on a project about global warming for a science magazine, which is a nice baby step back into science journalism.

Like I said, I believe both have been made possible not by my tenacity and general obsessive nature, but by my SOBRIETY. Who would’ve thought, when 6 years ago the defining shared characteristic of my circle of friends at journalism school was how close we could make happy hour to the actual length of our school day?

I’m gaining a much improved focus, coupled with a subtle-yet-meaningfully improved mood. I feel braver and more willing to commit to things. In a word, accountable, and unafraid of making and keeping appointments, deadlines, and commitments. Not that I missed them regularly before, but some I did and the ones I did were big ones, like, Make your life happen by the end of the month. It feels immensely empowering, but in a subtle way. Strange, how these things work…

Who’s going to get hammered on day 90? This girl.

5 Sep

2:50 am

When I finally stopped drinking this past June, I had a HUGE many reasons: blacking out and doing all sorts of shit, most of which I’ve come to realize, is WAY outside the norm. Yet, I somehow managed to keep some semblance of control over my life… Anyway, I was driven in June to simply quit. I kept my head down, endured the pretty strong physical and psychological cravings, and ran and did bikram yoga and kept myself insanely busy and focused. Eye on the prize. Fuck this and fuck them and fuck fuck fuck All y’all can go fuck yourselves if YOU THINK I’M GOING TO CAVE.

Well, I did cave. At day 60. And I got back on the horse. And I caved a week later…and got back on that same horse. And now, approaching my second round toward day 21 (today is day 19), I feel…like I need incentive to not drink. Like, maybe, being sober is just temporary and after which, things will be different and I can go back to drinking. Non-alcoholically, that is.

Like, once I do this fixer-upper of a “90-day detox” from the sauce, my mind will be reset and I can have my wine back. If I give it my best shot, a perfect score, a real good one-two, then…I’ll be able to successfully return to a place I was before I started binge drinking a decade ago. Maybe?

The question is, is it possible to rehabilitate your drinking? I used to binge eat — more on that soon, as it definitely relates to the way I came to drink — and I remember the early days of literally, re-learning how to relate to food. It was really tough, I remember, rehabilitating my binge eating habits — eating and emotions are deeply connected, based on my experience. With wine, it’s similar in that I’m re-learning how to relate to incentives — what gives me pleasure and why. It’s like building back up the muscles and tendons around a broken bone, and re-teaching them how to work again.

Rehabilitation. I LOVE this word, and I truly do believe that some people CAN re-learn how to relate to drinking alcohol. It’s not black-and-white for everyone, most certainly. Circumstances — and people — are all different. Anyway, to make a long story short, for the first time since getting sober, I allowed myself to think that perhaps I will be one of these people. I feel like there may be something to look forward to, that this getting-sober thing doesn’t necessarily have to be about AA’s dogmatic (and possibly erroneous) “once a drunk, always a drunk/you cannot be fixed, EVER” philosophy.

This, however, begs the question, why would you drink alcohol if you don’t really need it? If the buzz is fun only to the extent that you don’t need it to have fun or be happy or feel good, then…why would you drink?

In any case, I hate to say it, but some days the only thing that gets me through the day, past the lone bottle of “it’s me against you, bitch, and I’m winning” red wine on my kitchen counter is the thought that I’ll allow myself to drink it one day. Not today. Not tomorrow. Probably not before a month. Or 60 days. BUT, maybe at 90…? Alone. With all the doors locked from the inside and all my electronics equipment safely hidden in a steel safe.

(Whatever it takes, right? Or, maybe this is what they call “dry drinking.” I have no idea, but I can’t help but think it’s pretty normal and well, pretty damn OK if it’s what gets me through my witching-hour cravings.)

Heading to the UI office… Happy Monday!

4 Sep

10:27 am

Ugh. I know, I’m a big ‘ole bag of shit to be bitching so much, but I really, REALLY don’t want to go. I just don’t want to be irritated or aggravated, as it’ll make me want to drink more than I have been wanting to during the past few days!

I am collecting unemployment (UI) — who isn’t? No wonder this country’s one broke-ass ****** — and I got my first and last extension a few months ago. BUT, I missed the reassessment interview, which they sprung on me and which is mandatory, so now I have to go and ask them to resked it. No biggie, but of course, bureaucratic (that’s a weird spelling, but it’s correct!) nonsense reigns and when I called the local office last week they said to call the 1-800 number, but when I called the 1-800 number, I couldn’t get through (like literally, the voice on the other end said, Our line is busy, hang up and call back), so I went on the web site, and the web site says that the only way to resked is in fact, NOT through the web site or 1-800 number, but through your local “one-stop” office.

Ugh!

Oh, well. I got one word: Don’t make me brang out the New Yorker on someone’s ass.

Interesting Q&A on “rational recovery”

3 Sep

9:53 pm

Here’s a bit of an interview with Tom Horvath, owner of Practical Recovery in San Diego. Interesting and thought-provoking, as always. Thank you, Fix!

Twenty million Americans are diagnosable with some range of chemical dependency. What is it about the addiction treatment field that we are missing?

Well, the treatment system is not attractive enough for most of those folks. A system that is more harm-reduction oriented, which is what you have in most countries, would pull more people in and hopefully help them make resolution faster. The other piece is that recovery is not ultimately about treatment. It is about something much bigger than treatment. It is about society. The American society is one that breeds addiction rather well. Until some of those changes occur, and keep in mind that I am not expecting that, we’ll always have substantial addiction problems.

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Sober Yogi

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'Nomorebeer'

A sobriety blog started in 2019

A Spiritual Evolution

Alcoholism recovery in light of a Near Death Experience

No Wine I'm Fine

An alcoholfree journey in New Zealand with a twist

Untipsyteacher

I am a retired teacher who quit drinking and found happiness! After going deaf, I now have two cochlear implants!

Life Beyond Booze

The joys, benefits and challenges of living alcohol free

Functioningguzzler

In reality I was barely functioning at all - life begins with sobriety.

Mental Health @ Home

A safe place to talk openly about mental health & illness

Faded Jeans Living

By Dwight Hyde

Moderately Sober

Finding my contented self the sober way

Sober Courage

From liquid courage to Sober Courage

Musings Of A Crazy Cat Lady

The personal and professional ramblings of a supposedly middle aged crazy cat lady

Life in the Hot Lane

The Bumpy Road of Life as a Woman 45+

Wake up!

Operation Get A Life

doctorgettingsober

A psychiatrist blogging about her own demons and trying to deal with them sober

Storm in a Wine Glass

I used to drink and now I don't

Off-Dry

I got sober. Life got big.

Dorothy Recovers

An evolving tale of a new life in recovery

Lose 'da Booze

MY Journey towards Losing 'da Booze Voice within and regaining self-control

Laurie Works

MA., NCC, RYT, Somatic Witch

Drunky Drunk Girl

A blog about getting sober

The Soberist Blog

a life in progress ... sans alcohol

soberjessie

Getting sober to be a better mother, wife, and friend

mentalrollercoaster

the musings and reflections of one person's mental amusement park

TRUDGING THROUGH THE FIRE

-Postcards from The Cauldron

Guitars and Life

Blog about life by a music obsessed middle aged recovering alcoholic from South East England