Nobody Gives a Crap How You Stay Sober

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I say this from a place of love, light and spirituality: nobody gives a fuck. No, I’m serious and I swear once you wear this idea like a big old cozy sweater, the better off you will be. The pain of being convinced that people actually care and are overly invested in our every move is some 21st century narcissistic bullshit that serves no purpose other than to make you insane. This is especially true when we talk about getting sober. Everybody (and by everybody I mean addicts because let’s be honest we some selfish ass bitches and we think we are everybody) is convinced that how they are trying to get sober is a way that’s being scrutinized or being judged.We think we’re doing it wrong. We think that we found a way to stay sober that needs to be shouted out from the rafters. But baby, I’m here to tell you ain’t nobody give a fuck.

The most boring thing on the internet today is the blog post deep-fried in clickbait batter that says, “Why AA Sucks!” or conversely “Why AA is the only way to get sober.” If you have clicked on either one of these types of article, you’ve been played, sucka. The people who write these things don’t want to honestly connect with other people struggling with addiction. They want to scream about how right they are into a void. And that’s boring to me as are the billions of angry comments left on these posts. It’s all inflammatory bs concocted to get page views and not substance. My mom always says hurt people hurt other people but also hurt people also write attention seeking blog posts and its all nonsense. Bo to the ring.

I find it so brain splatteringly boring for a few reasons. First of all, people struggling to stay sober need to cling onto whatever life raft they find and your anti 12-Step program posts aren’t helping. If somebody about to die finds comfort there and stays sober, leave them the fuck alone. Likewise, if 12 step programs aren’t somebody’s thing, don’t beat the fuck out of them. It’s attraction rather than promotion, my AA homie and you should know better. Stop yelling in all caps quotes from the big book. We’ve ceased fighting, dawg and you should know that too. Also, I find it boring because these arguments back and forth deflate the real issue at hand: THAT PEOPLE ARE DYING, YOU SELFISH TURD AND YOUR OPINIONS AREN’T HELPING ANYONE. Seriously if we all spent as much time waxing poetically on the best ways to stay sober as we did actually helping struggling addicts and alcoholics in real life, we’d be better off. Lastly, I think it’s boring because it solves nothing. I’m a cocaine addict, mind you, so I like some instant ass results. Okay fight back and forth but let’s have something useful come out of these conversations. Otherwise, I cannot be bothered.

I got sober through AA primarily because I’m uncreative and I was out of options. Relying on just smoking weed, hiding from alcohol or good old-fashioned magic to keep me sober didn’t work. I sincerely hope somebody out there tried a one or more of those things and it helped you get sober. Particularly magic. Please if magic made you sober, you owe the world a book and I will buy it. However none of that shit worked for me and I did what family members and a billion friends did: I went to a ton of meetings. I didn’t buy the whole AA kit and caboodle at first and guess what– nobody gave a fuck. These were a bunch of screwed up people like me. Sure, they wanted to help if they could but honeychild, they were hot messes too so they did what they could. But nobody was too worried about if I was “feeling it” or if I needed to be converted. I either got on board or I didn’t. These folks were just trying not to die. I could do what they were doing and if not that was cool too.

After awhile, it all sort of clicked. Yet as I have mentioned numerous times, it was not all good in the formerly drunken hood. In fact, it was all jacked up for a long ass time. But I was desperate not to be the same drunken a-hole I had been for 20 plus years so I did whatever people said worked for them. AA saved my life but mainly because I did ALL of the shit they tell you to do and all of the 12 Steps. Weird that we’d even have to point out that a 12 Step program only works if you do the entire thing but you’d be surprised at how many people went to two meetings, never opened their mouths or did a step and then declared, “AA is some bullshit!” That’d be like hating on Paris even though you had only flown over it and never actually walked around the damn place. Anyway, AA did what it was supposed to do for me and has kept me sober for nearly 10 years. I never felt bullied or pressured or shamed by people in AA. Annoyed, exhausted and agitated by people in AA but to be fair that’s how I feel about most people everywhere.

Still, I recognize the spirituality part is a tough pill to swallow for people and that it isn’t everybody’s jam. Lots of folks stay sober through church. Even more stay sober through yoga. Some with just the support of loved ones. Refuge Recovery. SMART Recovery. Celebrate Recovery. Crossfit. Therapy. Biking. Knitting. Whatever it takes. I say anything that keeps us of the streets and stops us from being drunken, drugged out terrors at places like Target or the airport, then I’m all about it. Acting like I’m some authority or expert on staying sober or that my way is the only way is stupid. Likewise, so is beating up people for staying sober through ways I don’t understand.

After about 18 months without drinking, I walked into my old grocery store in Echo Park. The cashier was a girl named Roxy who rang me up dozens of times and definitely saw me totally shit housed more than a few times. “Did you need a bottle today, ” she asked. I told her I didn’t and that I hadn’t drank in over a year. “Oh thank god,” she said. “you were really bad.” You’re a special kind of neighborhood alcoholic when even the girl at the grocery store notices. She wasn’t lying, though. The thing was Roxy didn’t care how I stayed sober. She was just glad I did. I was no longer stumbling into the grocery store and everybody was happy about that, myself included.

Listen, it still takes a lot to get my own sober behind out of bed and out the door. I don’t have time to micromanage your program of recovery.  You found it, whatever it is that keeps you sober and I’m truly happy for you! Please keep doing what you’re doing and please help some damn people find the sober juju you have found! And also? I don’t give a fuck.

action! I wanna live.

feelingsWe are in the era of the topless, body positive Instagram post. We are in the era of the multi-tweet thread chronicling everything from an individual’s heroic battle with a mental illness to a harrowing account of waiting in line at the airport. We are in the era of blogs like the one your reading now routinely using (or abusing) their pages to become a digital dumping ground for confessions, neuroses and run-of-the-mill epiphanies. As a big fan of all of these things, I will say respectively and from the most spiritual place possible, fuck this era. Fuck this false sense of heroism for simply being a human who handles their emotional shit. Fuck this bar for being so low that we now spring to our feet anytime someone is real about themselves. Because for people with mental illness, addiction and alcoholism this brand of self-truth telling isn’t some breakthrough handpicked specially for a Lenny Letter essay. It’s just how we stay alive.

Hopefully, my flagrant flinging of the f-bomb didn’t frighten you off. But I swear all of this is on my mind for a reason (cue the aforementioned confessional in 5, 4,3,2…). While I like to think it takes guts for me to yell into the void of the internet, “Ugh. I feel shitty and I kind of hate myself/everything else!” I know it’s ultimately chicken shit. After all, I could whine for days digitally (and I have and thank you for reading, by the way!) but if it’s not happening in real life and if I’m not reaching out in the real world, it’s all for show. While bleeding on the page and essentially throwing glitter on my hot mess mental health is sort of my brand, it can’t just be a blog or a series of tweets. I mean for me. “For me,” in case you didn’t know,  is what we say so we don’t alienate people who are doing something else to treat their own hot mess mental health. But in this case I don’t know if it is just “for me”. Study after study, book after book has shown that people with the stuff I have tend to feel better when they share it with others who have the same thing. All of this is to say, that yesterday, live and in person without editing or a delete tweet option, I let it out.

The “it” in question is some of the financial and career blahs I mentioned before but then also my general feeling horrible/depressed/over everything that’s been plaguing me for several days.  Plaguing is a dramatic word and not at all accurate when it considering places like Syria or Venezuela or Chechnya. But I described it to my husband as a “baseline of annoyance and depression”. In other words, I’ve been a fucking delight. Completely wrapped up in self and miserable, I forced myself to go to a meeting yesterday. It was a gay meeting not unlike the gay meetings I got sober in Los Angeles back in 2009. Gay meetings are awesome, by the way. Not only do I find them to be a little more entertaining and honest but they are filled with people who get me in a way sober straight people do not. Anyway, after hearing lots of stuff that resonated, I vomited out everything that I was feeling. While the details of this monologue are best left in the magical ethos of the sacred spaces of 12 Step rooms, I will say that I felt better almost immediately. And more than that a few people gathered around me and gave me their phone numbers after the meeting. After a tear filled text session with my sober bestie in LA, who hilariously called me controlling and called alcoholism a cunt, I started to feel human. I calmed down. I ate bread and watched reality shows. I snuggled with my husband, who currently deserves some sort of trophy. I went to bed. But I went to bed knowing that I need to be in a new state of action.

The thing is I’ve been going to meetings and doing the work I need to do to stay sober since I moved to Portland but clearly I still need more help. This is always a drag for me discover. I really, really hoped that when I got sober I’d only have to ask for help once and only feel shitty for a small period of time and the rest of my life with be like the last 3 minutes of Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. What I’ve gotten in reality is a life that actually looks more like the last 30 minutes of Postcards from the Edge which is to say not perfect, challenging and a lot of work if I want to stay healthy and happy. Yesterday’s breakdown/breakthrough was a wake-up call to do more work and to keep going. Therefore, I’ve committed to 30 meetings over the next 30 days. I’m also going to find a sponsor and take on a service commitment. I traditionally don’t like to do any work and will only do so when I’m in a considerable amount of pain so consider this me screaming, “Uncle!”

I guess the point of this yet-another-act of internet heroism is this: my mind was in a dark place. A sad place. A despair filled place. A fucked up place. And was kind of there for a while and was pushing me to feel like, “Why bother?” This freaked me out. Because how long do I think like this until I then start thinking that drinking or using or god forbid suicide all sound like awesome ideas? Yikes. So I told the truth. I told on myself. I cried in front of strangers. I asked for help and I did it not because I wanted applause but because I want to be happy and alive. And because it’s what we do.