A Sober Life Isn’t a Boring Life

There’s an outdated idea that getting sober means giving something up — saying goodbye to partying, excitement, fun and impulsivity. But really, nothing could be further from the truth.When you give up drugs and alcohol, you’re opening yourself up to a better life, with the freedom to do what you really want. That’s why there is no reason that a sober life has to be a boring life. In fact, going into treatment and getting into recovery often leaves you with the health, energy and motivation to live life to the fullest.Here’s why a life in recovery is anything but boring. When you’re sober…You’re at your bestWhen you’re addicted to drugs or alcohol, your life is dictated by the substances that you’re dependent on. You’re either taking them or wondering when you can get your hands on them next. Even when you’re not actively using or securing drugs, your mind wanders to substances.But when you get sober, that constant nagging is released. Sure, you’ll experience cravings or temptations now and then. But in the day-to-day, your mind is healthier and able to think about the big questions in life: who you are, what brings you happiness, and how to life the most fulfilled life possible.You’re healthyOne of the greatest gifts that recovery gives you is your health. Being addicted to substances leaves you at risk for a myriad of illnesses, including coronavirus. And even when you’re not confronting serious illnesses, you’re constantly navigating the experience of being hung over or dopesick.Once you’re sober, your body is able to start healing from years of substance use. As your body begins repairing itself, you’ll start feeling healthier than ever. You’re able to hike or bike further than you could when you were using. You have the bandwidth to strain your mind and body by learning new skills, rather than just operating at the lowest level.You’re braveLiving through addiction and coming out the other side is a terrifying experience. Anyone who has been in treatment for substance use disorder can probably point to their own personal rock bottom —oftentimes a moment when they didn’t know whether they would live or die.Once you’ve seen yourself at your worst, or wondered if your life would go on, other things suddenly seem less scary. You’ve pushed through the worst of the worst and survived. Many people find that is freeing, allowing them to try new things, whether it’s putting yourself out there into the dating pool or trying a scary activity like rock climbing.You’re more financially secureAddiction zaps your resources. Your time, money and effort is all directed at your next high. Once you get on your feet in recovery, you’ll likely find that you have more energy, freedom, and financial resources to pursue the things that really bring you joy.When you were using, things like travel and higher education probably seemed out of reach. But now that you're sober, those are realistic possibilities that you can pursue.You’re in controlWhen you’re addicted, you’re ruled by your disease. But when you’re sober, you are in control. You get to decide what life sounds exciting to you. If you want to dance and party — after the pandemic — there are plenty of places that host sober clubbing experiences. If your idea of fun involves plays or theater, you have the opportunity to do that. And if you prefer outdoor activities, you’re more able to engage with them when you’re not chasing your next fix.A life of addiction might be full of unknowns — which some people find exciting. But it’s also full of illness, financial consequences and limitations on your ability to try new things. When you get sober, you open yourself up to a world of opportunities and the freedom to pursue them.Learn more about Oceanside Malibu at http://oceansidemalibu.com/. Reach Oceanside Malibu by phone at (866) 738-6550. Find Oceanside Malibu on Facebook.

Helping Your Child Through Difficult Times

I have been a mental health and addictions counselor for over two decades. I’ve treated adults and adolescents diagnosed with serious psychiatric and substance abuse issues at one of the nation’s premier psychiatric hospitals. After informing parents of their child’s substance abuse history the most frequent response I heard from them was “I had no idea this was going on.” Or if they suspected their child was using a substance, they were shocked at how extensive it was.Adolescent substance abuse continues to invade too many of our families, leaving parents confused and without a roadmap to guide them in finding help for their child. Today, more than 40 percent of seniors and one-third of tenth graders are vaping a substance like marijuana. Twenty percent of teens report abusing prescription drugs like Xanax, Ritalin and Adderall.As the parent of an addicted child, feelings of helplessness, blame and fear can drown out any sense of hope. But in the pages of my book The Addicted Child: A Parent’s Guide to Adolescent Substance Abuse they receive the information and resources needed to help their child through assessment, treatment and recovery.Alcohol and drugs have the power to change a child’s brain and influence behaviors so I include a chapter on the neuroscience of substance abuse. In non-technical language parents learn how substances work in the adolescent brain.Because the best treatment starts with a comprehensive assessment there’s a chapter explaining which assessments are critical for a proper diagnosis. These assessments go beyond looking just at a child’s history of using substances. All too often when we look beyond a child’s drinking or drug use we discover their struggle to manage intolerable thoughts, feelings or memories is a core issue that needs treatment. While not every child using alcohol or drugs has an underlying psychological issue, for those that do, treating the alcohol or drug problem without treating the mental health issue can be a treatment plan doomed to fail.Other chapters in The Addicted Child address issues such as eating disorders, self-injury, gaming and cell phone use which often accompany a child’s use of substances. Parents learn the warning signs for these disorders and the warning signs that often accompany alcohol and drug use. Parents also learn which drugs are invading today’s adolescent population and how to recognize them.Parents often need guidance when looking for treatment options. There is no “one size fits all” treatment approach to addiction. For this reason, I have included chapters explaining the important principles of adolescent substance abuse treatment and various treatment options available for families. There is also a chapter listing helpful resources for parents.Very few things are more destructive to a family than having someone, especially a child, addicted to alcohol or drugs. While working on an adolescent treatment unit I met parents struggling to understand and accept their child’s psychiatric and substance use issues. For most of these families it was a heart-breaking experience. Sadly, many families do not have the financial resources to send their child to a nationally acclaimed hospital like the Menninger Clinic in Houston. Their desperate search for help often leaves them feeling alone and without a roadmap to guide them through the process of their child’s assessment and treatment. It’s for these families that I wrote my book, The Addicted Child: A Parent’s Guide to Adolescent Substance Abuse. You can find The Addicted Child on Amazon and at the following website: https://www.helptheaddictedchild.com

5 Tips for Getting Through the Pandemic Holidays, Sober

The holidays are always a fraught time for people in recovery. The shorter, darker, colder days during November and December can take a toll on anyone. Add in the stress of returning home, dealing with family members, and attending social functions where drinking might be expected, and the holidays are a minefield.This year, the holiday season is going to be more stressful than typical. The pandemic has strained many relationships, while taking away recovery resources. If you go home for the holidays, you might worry about exposure; while staying put can leave you at risk for wrath from the in-laws. It’s no wonder that this holiday season is coming with a lot of strife.Staying sober this holiday season will take planning ahead, says Geoff Thompson, PhD, program director for Sunshine Coast Health Centre in British Columbia.“Stressors tend to increase during the holiday season, which is why many recovery organizations hold more recovery meetings, as well as clean and sober dances,” says Thompson. Unfortunately, the pandemic has put a halt to those supports.“None of this will be available this year,” Thompson says.With that in mind, try these steps to help keep yourself sober and healthy this holiday season.1. Adjust your expectationsJust like the rest of the year, holiday season 2020 is going to be unlike any other. Just acknowledging that and giving yourself some time to mourn what you’re missing can go a long way.You probably won’t be watching The Nutcracker or going to any cookie swaps. You might not even be able to see your friends or loved ones. Recognizing these changes ahead of time can help you prepare for them, and the emotions that they bring.2. Find ways to keep your equilibriumSober events are largely cancelled, and you might not even be able to go to the gym to burn off steam. So, it’s up to you to find ways to keep your mental and physical health on track during the holidays.Luckily, by this point, we’ve all had some practice keeping mentally healthy at home. Little things, like online recovery meetings, Facetime dates with friends, or a walk around the neighborhood can help you feel well. Don’t underestimate the importance of routine, especially if you have kids, Thompson says.3. Practice gratitudeDuring the holidays, we’re supposed to spend time thinking about what we’re thankful for. This year, it’s all too easy to focus on the negative and what’s missing. In order to gain some perspective, spend some time reflecting on the silver linings to the pandemic. Maybe you have learned a new skill, or are really enjoying working from home. Perhaps you’ve enjoyed the quality time that you have with the people in your household. Maybe the pandemic has given you new courage to live your life to the fullest.Once you’ve thought about your silver linings, and maybe written them down, consider sharing them with someone you love, and asking them to do the same.4. Do random acts of kindness, from afarOpportunities to complete acts of service might seem, at first glance, to have disappeared this holiday season. But that doesn’t have to be the case. You can still volunteer from home, or surprise someone you love with a gift from afar.Doing a random act of kindness is likely to put a smile on your face, and break the gloomy sense of the pandemic holidays. Something as simple as sending a card and note to strangers stuck in their nursing homes during this holiday season can help spread cheer to those who need it most.5. Have a recovery planAs always, it’s important to know who you can turn to when you are struggling with your sobriety. Keep an updated list of digital meetings on-hand, and make sure you always have the number of your sponsor or another trusted person who you can talk to.This holiday season is likely to be a little less magical for many people. But by adjusting expectations and focusing on health and safety long-term, you can make sure that you’ll be here to celebrate the holidays in 2021.Sunshine Coast Health Centre is a non 12-step drug and alcohol rehabilitation center in British Columbia. Learn more here.

What Happened When I Spent Christmas Eve in a Basement with a Crazy Cat

It was Christmas Eve, 2013, and I was scooping poop from a litter box in my neighbors’ basement. Leticia and Dana had rescued a feral kitten whose new habitat extended from the hot water heater to the washer/dryer. Although it was icy outdoors and toasty within, this foster feline wasn’t buying into her rehabilitation. But I was. I was three months sober.Kitty was ambivalent towards humans. She darted about the boiler room, kicking up supermarket circulars that had been neatly layered for her comfort. As I shook Friskies into the bowl, she shouldered up to me, twitching her tail against my forearm, her throat vibrating under a flea collar. As I reached to pet her, she caught my wrist between her paws and bit down hard on the hand that fed her.I was tempted to punt the little ingrate into the sewer trap, but instead I dialed a sober friend. Darlyne listened as I droned on about what I was sure would be my worst holiday ever, the bluest Blue Christmas imaginable. After fourteen years of marriage, my husband and I had agreed to call it quits in September. Here we were now in December, Yuletide upon us, and that sparkling snow globe of a mental construct—the family Christmas—was shattering. There would be two trees this year instead of one, two piles of hastily-wrapped presents, and even two plates of sugar cookies, left for two Santas, because our younger son was only six, and very much still a believer.I never doubted my decision to divorce, but I had misgivings when it came to the kids. I feared the emotional fall-out from all those times when mom’s temper met dad’s radioactive passive-aggression. I saw an acid cloud of neuroses raining down upon my sons from their parents’ split, a psychic soaker that would take them years of therapy before they’d start to dry out.I watched two lines of red dots on my forearms swell and connect where the beast had scratched me. Then I lost it. I broke down bawling on the basement floor. After a while, Darlyne interrupted me. “Viv I get it. I do. it’s a rough time. A really rough time. And it’s good you’re letting it all out. But we’ve been on the phone thirty minutes now and I’m gonna pee my pants.”“Ok,” I said as I blew my nose into the deli section.“But listen,” Darlyne said before signing off, “I want you to do something.”Change or DieI had no idea what she was going to say, but I already knew I didn’t want to do it. The default of my defiant alcoholic mind—then and now, drinking or sober— is “NO.” But recovery, I have learned, is about change. And change often means saying “YES” instead of “NO.” It means being willing to take suggestions—often awkward, tedious or unsexy actions that force me to sit with feelings and stretch my tolerance for discomfort.“It’s just going to be so weird for the kids to wake up Christmas morning and not see two parents!” I wailed, ignoring my friend’s bladder. I wasn’t done catastrophizing.“Just listen,” Darlyne was louder now. “I want you to do something, and I promise it will help.”At that moment, I had a choice: take in what my friend was telling me, or tune her out. Sobriety is about making choices, and I’ve made some doozies in my fifty-five years of frolicking between a few zip codes in New York City, with or without a Bacardi and Coke in hand. And the takeaways from all my choices—good and bad—have always been there too. Only now I’m actually able to take these takeaways. Free of mind and mood-altering substances, I’m present for each new experience, and I can see my part in it. Sometimes I repeat the same mistakes, but these successive ones occur less often, and feel less calamitous. It’s getting better. And that feels good.But I wasn’t feeling good that morning. I was cold and panicky.“What is it?” I choked.“Make a list of ten things you’re grateful for,” said Darlyne, “and save it in your phone. Then read it back to yourself, over and over again, for the next two weeks. Got it?”“I got it,” I sniffled.“You’ll feel better. Trust me.” Then she hung up.I was skeptical, and I didn’t feel better yet, but I did it. I squatted on that cellar floor, my tailbone pressed against the cold cement, and I took that sober woman’s suggestion. It was one of the better moves I’ve ever made....Ten things I’m grateful for:My sobrietyMy sonsMy family (most of the time)My soon-to-be ex (He’s a good dad after all.)All my friends (from 4th grade to the present)What else?My first cup of coffee in the morningA good mattressFood in my stomachThe sun rising over the rooftopsI don’t remember the tenth. So I’ll just add something now, something that could have been on that first list.PannetoneYes, the fluffy bread, loaded with raisins, that you only see in supermarkets at the holidays. To go with number 6. For me, the small things on my list have come to matter too. Even when the big ticket items are absent—like the job with benefits, or the boyfriend—the small, quiet things are always there, if I look for them. Like the neighbor with the beehive in his backyard, who feeds my Poohish habit with a steady supply of golden honey nine months of the year out of twelve.There! I read the list in my cupped palm. Then I reread it. Well, I wasn’t jolly yet, but I was functional. Mrs. Santa Clause dried her tears in an ad for holiday ham, then stood up and got on with the business of making magic for her kids that Christmas Eve. And she muttered that merry mantra over and over for the next twelve days and arrived at the new year, clean, sober, and—to her surprise—not absolutely miserable for every second of it.Flash forward to 2020, amicably-divorced and effectively co-parenting, I feel far-removed from that bleak midwinter morning spent bawling in a basement with a bipolar cat. I still have days where I forget that I’m wildly blessed, days where I watch my teen on the tennis court and forget the shattered ankle, the surgery, the cast, and the flawless recovery. I still have sour days where I see only another wet towel on the bathroom floor and pistachio shells on the pillow case.But on these days, thankfully, I remember what will slap me back into gratitude. I know that if I just jot ten things I’ve got going for me, it’ll make me feel better. I also know that when I neglect to count my blessings, I’m more likely to cry over every glass of spilt milk or busted garbage bag.When my twelve-year-old quips: “Quit trying to make your own disgusting chicken fingers and just take me to McDonald's,” I don’t collapse in tears on the linoleum anymore; instead, I rattle off my list. My sobriety is always on top, and my sons still take the number two spot (except today, the younger slides down to number eight). My good health follows, then my elderly parents and my brother, who mows their lawn and drives them to doctors’ appointments. I acknowledge my good neighbors, my shrink, my deep pre-war apartment bathtub, fat dogs with short legs, and my self-respect.Then I turn to Liam and say: “Put on your hoodie, we’re going to McDonald’s.”

Treating Opioid Addiction Is More Important Than Ever During the Pandemic

Before the United States was fighting the COVID-19 pandemic, we were focused on another public health crisis: the opioid epidemic. In 2018, nearly 70,000 Americans died of drug overdoses, an amount four times higher than those who died from drug overdoses in 1999.Now, more than a quarter of a million Americans have died of coronavirus. But the opioid epidemic is still claiming tens of thousands of lives. The pandemic stressors are leaving many people susceptible to addiction and dependence, especially on opioid drugs. Those who are currently dependent on opioids or struggling with addiction may be at increased risk of contracting COVID-19. Although many Americans are vulnerable, those suffering from addiction are at much higher risks for health complications. This means that now, more than ever, it's critical to get life-saving treatment for opioid use disorder.Opioid Overdose Rates Are RisingThe national dialogue about health and wellness has pivoted from focusing on addiction to focusing on coronavirus. But while many people are working to address the pandemic, more people die from opioid use and abuse.In October, the American Medical Association (AMA) released a brief warning that opioid overdose rates are increasing in 40 states since the start of the pandemic. The AMA emphasized the need for more access to effective and evidence-based drug treatments. This is exactly the type of treatment offered by Waismann Method® Opioid Treatment and Detoxification Specialists. Right now, many people are trying to cope with emotional pain and day-to-day instabilities. Simultaneously, due to the virus, people are in isolation from their loved ones and support systems. This situation creates a perfect storm, which leads many people to turn to opioids or other substances in an attempt to alleviate that pain and stress. Medically Assisted Treatment Waismann Method provides those suffering from opioid use disorder an opportunity to get through detox under a medical team's care in an accredited hospital. Being in a hospital allows people to experience withdrawal in a much safer and comfortable way than other non-medically assisted options. Following this effective medically assisted treatment, patients are emotionally present to address the root causes of their substance abuse. They are also free from physical dependence to start a healthier life without opioids.Opioid Abuse Leaves You Vulnerable to COVID-19With hundreds of thousands of Americans dead, most people are doing what they can to reduce their chances of contracting COVID-19. A study released in September by the National Institutes of Health found that people with substance use disorder are more likely to get coronavirus. Within this group, people who use opioids are the most likely to contract the virus."The lungs and cardiovascular system are often compromised in people with SUD, which may partially explain their heightened susceptibility to COVID-19," said Nora D. Volkow, M.D., director of the National Institute on Drug Abuse. "Another contributing factor is the marginalization of people with addiction, making it harder for them to access health care services. It is incumbent upon clinicians to meet the unique challenges of caring for this vulnerable population, just as they would any other high-risk group."One way to reduce your risk for contracting coronavirus is to address your substance use disorder. Whether you have a full-blown opioid addiction or are dependent on opioids that have been prescribed to you by your doctor, rapid detox through Waismann Method® can help you quickly address your substance use disorder and potentially reduce your risk of contracting coronavirus.Opioid Treatment as Part of Overall HealthThe coronavirus pandemic has caused many people to reevaluate their health and take steps to be as healthy as possible in the future. If you regularly take opioids, your health can suffer. Physical dependency on the drug can leave you feeling stuck and can even progress into an addiction. Addiction is a behavioral health condition that undermines your overall health, plus your relationships with friends and family.Despite all the consequences of opioid use, many people delay treatment because they are scared about going through the physical and emotional distress of an opioid withdrawal. The idea that suffering through withdrawal teaches people a lesson is archaic and often dangerous. Many people keep using drugs to prevent suffering, and sadly enough, they end up overdosing. We need to do more, and we need to do better. Science has come a long way, and medically assisted treatment centers like Waismann Method® continue to provide a solution to those fears; a solution that is not just humane, but also effective.Although addressing opioid dependency always has health benefits, it's especially crucial during the pandemic. Receiving treatment for Opioid Use Disorder can help prevent a possibly life-ending overdose, reduce your risk of catching the virus, and, more importantly, help you live the long and healthy life you deserve.

Staying Strong, Sober, and Sane During the Holidays

Thanksgiving is around the corner and marks the official start of the fun, festive and sometimes dreaded holiday season. Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, Christmas, and New Year’s events can be stressful for anyone and especially so for people in recovery. Wine pairings, eggnogs, champagne toasts, and all sorts of colorful cocktails are ever-present at family, work, and social events. ‘Tis the season to drink and be merry. But not for us.Family and work parties can be stressful and triggering for people in recovery and struggling with addiction. Add exploding COVID-19 cases, and the usual holiday stress expands exponentially. What’s a newly sober person to do?For people who’ve completed treatment and stay active in a 12-step community, you probably have the tools to resist a glass of wine with the turkey and skip the toast of bubbly on New Year’s Eve. But holiday stress can weaken even the strongest sober foundation. Here are some tips for newcomers (and reminders for old-timers) on how to ensure your recovery remains strong through the rest of 2020 and beyond:HonestyIf friends or family are unaware of your newly sober status, use this as an opportunity to preempt any awkwardness and let people know you’ve decided to lead a more fulfilling life. If they don’t know about your new recovery journey, they’ll probably hand you a glass of wine or some peppermint flavored cocktail. Send an email or a message on Facebook, and make it known individually rather than tapping your glass for a dramatic speech.You might not want to tell everyone this year, but if your family is anything like mine, they’re as gossipy as Regina George and her crew of mean girls, and the cat is out of the bag. If you want to maintain some privacy this year, get comfortable saying no to drinks or a newly legal toke.Honesty is an integral part of sobriety, but you don’t have to overshare. Try a simple: “No, thanks, I have to drive” or “My head hurts, so I’ll pass.” The latter may seem a little dishonest, but after chatting with your aunt about her latest bout with gout, it’s probably not a stretch. Remember to have realistic expectations. You’ve probably caused some pain and drama while using, and not everyone may be quick to forgive and forget. Use this as an opportunity to revisit your ninth step and see if you still owe a few amends.Make a PlanIf you’re concerned family dynamics might trigger a relapse, take some time with your therapist or 12-stepping friends to create a plan. Together, they can help you devise a effective strategy.If this year’s holiday festivities are held via video chat, it might feel less stressful. Muting relatives is appealing, but it’s essential to prepare for any stressful interactions. Use your tools and confront any lingering resentments you may hold against relatives before connecting to Zoom or heading over. If you’ve completed the fourth step, it may be time to take another look and see if you’ve left out a few people. As you know, the fourth step work is never done. Everyone develops resentments as time passes, regardless of how reflective and self-aware we are.Quick Tips If you’re heading home to see the family, check the local AA or NA site and have a list of meetings ready to go.Put together a list of five people you can call if you need support or a quick chat.Remember to be of service! Wash the dishes, offer to make the mashed potatoes, or stay a few minutes after a meeting to chat with a newbie.Don’t forget to meditate! It’s easy to neglect that practice when traveling.Isolation Is ToxicVirtual holidays present another mental health challenge: isolation. We use the holidays to connect with the people we don’t see every day. It can be annoying and highly stressful, but the need to connect is real. Humans are social creatures, and we crave social activities. Those of us in recovery are quite good at isolating, and that disconnect is toxic. Countless studies show social isolation causes anxiety, depression, anxiety, decreased cardiovascular function, low sleep quality, and cognitive decline in people of all ages.Loneliness directly affects drug addiction and alcoholism, and studies indicate socially isolated people have more mental health and substance abuse problems than the general population. People often turn to substances to escape when they feel isolated, yet many of us are isolated because drugs and alcohol destroyed our relationships. When you are new to sobriety, it’s imperative to break that cycle. Easier said than done in a global pandemic, but there are things you can do to help you stay sane and sober.In some cities, there are some in-person 12-step meetings. If you haven’t gone since last winter, consider grabbing a mask and attending a socially distanced meeting. Just remember to look for meetings that require masks and check temperatures at the door.If you’ve started your recovery journey, you’ve acquired some useful tools to help you survive the holidays with your sobriety intact. Use your new skills and reach out to your therapist and network of sober peers. Your sober and supportive community's collective knowledge is an invaluable resource, so actively seek out their guidance! As you’ve learned in the rooms, no matter our backgrounds, our stories are extraordinarily similar, and the pain we’ve experienced and are responsible for is our common bond.For those who have not received treatment or joined the rooms, make a plan. Delaying recovery until the new year can have devastating consequences. Stress and substance abuse increase during the holidays season and overdose rates climb. Use the love and support of your friends and family during the holiday season and get started. Your sobriety will be the best gift they’ve ever received.If you or someone you know is struggling with substance abuse, call AspenRidge Recovery today to speak with one of our admissions specialists. They’ll help you find the best treatment option for your situation, even if it isn’t with us. You can call us 24/7 at (866) 271-2173, or you can visit https://reachonlinerecovery.com and learn more about our virtual outpatient programs accessible in multiple states.

Double or Nothing: The Two Diseases That Want Me Dead

I have two diseases that want me dead.One is addiction, a progressive, incurable and potentially fatal disease that presents as a physical compulsion and mental obsession. I am addicted to alcohol and, as an alcoholic, can never successfully drink again.There is no cure, only ways of arresting the vicious cycle of binge, remorse and repeat that leads to ever-deeper bottoms. My alcoholism took me not only to unemployment but unemployability; not only selfishness but self-destruction; not only deteriorating health and heartache but abject desperation and insanity.My other deadly illness is depression. By this, I mean clinical depression – a necessary distinction considering the widespread, ill-informed use of the phrase “I’m depressed” to describe mere sadness. The difference is that sadness is rational while depression decidedly is not. Depression is not an emotion; it is a chemical imbalance that leads to hopelessness and self-loathing and, for that reason, is the leading cause of suicide.Mourning a loved one is understandable and altogether appropriate; that is sadness. Climbing to the roof of a six-story building and nearly jumping because I considered myself toxic and worthless, as I did in my mid-20s, is not normal and certainly not healthy; that is depression.I will be an alcoholic and depressive for as long as I am alive. But while neither is curable, both are certainly treatable. And increasingly, I’m finding that my progress in recovering from one disease is paying substantial dividends in combatting the other.Weller Than WellI took my final drink on October 10, 2011, the last in a long line of cheap beer cans littering my car. Wherever I was going, I never got there; instead, I crashed into a taxi and kept driving. Police frown upon that. I spent the night in jail and the next six months sans license. I was in trouble physically, spiritually, and now legally, and I had finally experienced enough pain to seek salvation.I got sober through Alcoholics Anonymous. There are several programs effective in arresting addiction; AA just happens to be the most prolific, and embodied the sort of group-centric empathy I needed during the precarious early stages of recovery. There are few things more alienating than being unable to stop doing something that you damn well know is destroying your life. Meeting consistently with others who’ve experienced this tragic uniqueness made me realize I wasn’t alone, and provided a glimmer of something that had long been extinguished: hope.Unlike traditional ailments, addiction is largely a "takes one to help one" disease. I needed to know that others had drank like me and gone on to recover by following certain suggestions. AA provided both the road to recovery and, through those that had walked the path before me, the trail guides. It isn’t rocket science. AA and other forms of group-centric recovery thrive on a few basic tenets. I admitted I had a problem, and saw that others had solved that problem by adhering to certain instructions. I accepted that my addiction had been driven by certain personality flaws, and that active addiction had only exacerbated these shortcomings. I made concerted efforts to begin not only amending my actions through face-to-face apologies, but also diminishing the underlying character defects that had fueled my alcoholism.In the process, I did not recover so much as reinvent myself. Nine years into my recovery, I am not the same person I was before becoming an alcoholic. I am better than that catastrophically damaged person.Like no other illnesses, recovery from addiction can make sufferers weller than well. I am not 2005 Chris – pre-problem drinker Chris. I am Chris 2.0. Stronger, smarter, wiser.And that brings me to my other incurable illness.So Low I Might Get HighMy battle with depression predates my alcoholism. In fact, the aforementioned rooftop suicidal gesture came before I was a heavy drinker. Like many people with concurrent diseases that impact mental health, one malady helped lead to another. My depression didn’t entirely cause my alcoholism, but it certainly played a key role.For me, bouts of depression descend like a dense, befuddling fog. At its worst, I have been struck suddenly dumb, unable to complete coherent sentences or comprehend dialogue. My wife once likened my slow, confused aura to talking with an astronaut on the moon; there was a five-second delay in transmission, and my response was garbled even when it finally arrived.My depression is clinical, meaning it is officially diagnosed. I am medicated for it and see a psychiatrist regularly. Upon getting sober, the first cross-disease benefit was that the anti-depressants I took daily were no longer being drowned in a sea of booze. The result of this newfound "as directed" prescription regimen was the depression tamping down from chronic to episodic. For the first time in nearly a decade, there were significant stretches where I was depression-free.Still, come the depression did, in random waves that enveloped me out of nowhere, zapping the hopeful vibes and purposeful momentum of early recovery. The sudden shift in mood and motivation was stark, striking and scary. Above all else, I was frightened that an episode of depression would trigger a relapse of alcoholism.In recovery from addiction we are taught, for good reason, that sobriety is the most important thing in our lives, because we are patently unable to do anything truly worthwhile without it. If we drink or drug, the blessings of recovery will disappear, and fast.Ironically, and perhaps tragicomically, by far the most formidable threat to my sobriety was my depression. One of the diseases trying to kill me was persistently attempting to get its partner in crime back. Inject some hopelessness and self-loathing into a recently sober addict's tenuous optimism and self-esteem, and there’s a good chance he’ll piss away the best shot he’s ever had at a happy, content existence.For months and even years into recovery, my only defense against depression episodes was intentional inactivity. Upon recognizing the syrupy sludge of depression draining my energy – a quicksand that made everything more strenuous and, mentally, seem not worth the extra effort – I would do my best to detach from as much as possible. My routine would dwindle to a questionably effective workday and, if any energy was left, what little exercise I could muster, an attempt to dislodge some depression with some natural dopamine – a stopgap measure that rarely bought more than half an hour of relief.Most alarmingly, during bouts of depression I would disconnect from my recovery from alcoholism, often going weeks without attending meetings or reaching out to sober companions. In depressive episodes, the hopeful messages of group-centric recovery rang hollow, and at times even felt offensive. How dare these people be joyous, grateful and free while I was miserable, bitter and stuck.Over an extended timeline, though, life had improved dramatically. As a direct result of sobriety and its teachings, my status as a husband and an executive improved drastically. In rapid succession I bought a house, rescued a dog and became a father. My depressive episodes grew fewer and further between.But when they came, I was playing a dangerous game. I now had a lot more to lose than my physical sobriety and, despite being rarer, my depressive episodes were almost more intimidating for what they represented: irrational hopelessness amid a life that, when compared to many others, was fortunate and blessed. So when depression descended, I did the only thing that seemed logical: I whittled life down to its barest minimum, and waited the disease out. I put life on pause while the blackness slowly receded to varying shades of gray and, finally, clearheaded lucidity returned.Essentially, I became depression's willing hostage. I didn't want it to derail me, and didn't have a healthier means of dealing with it.And then suddenly, I did.Beating Back a BullyFor the second time in my life, I have hope against an incurable disease where before there was hopelessness. And though I can't place into precise words exactly how it happened, I'm hoping my experience can benefit others. For the countless battling mental illness while recovering from addiction, my hope is to give you hope.Last fall, just as I was celebrating eight years sober, I hit a wall of depression the likes of which I hadn't encountered in a while. Like most depressive episodes, its origin was indistinct. It had indeed been a tough year – I had lost a close relative and had an unrelated health scare, among other challenges – but trying to pinpoint depression triggers is generally guesswork.Anyway, there it was. A big, fat funk, deeper and darker than I'd experienced in years. But for whatever reason, this time my reaction was different. Always, my routine was to place mental roadblocks in front of my depression. I justified this by telling myself, understandably, that depression's feelings were irrational and, therefore, not worth confronting.This time, for whatever reason, I took a different tack. For the first time, I leaned in rather than leaning out. I stood there and felt the harsh feelings brought on by depression rather than running from them. Whether it was sober muscle memory or simple fed-upedness, I had had enough of cowering in a corner while depression pressed pause on my life.The result? It hurt. A lot. But if battling depression is a prize fight, I won by majority decision. And having stood up to my most menacing bully, I fear the inevitable rematch far less.This would not have been possible – and is not recommended – earlier in recovery. In hindsight, I'm realizing that at least part of the reason I finally confronted my depression was that, after eight years of recovery work and a vastly improved life, I had placed enough positives around me that depression's irrational pessimism couldn't fully penetrate them. I had built up just enough self-esteem through just enough estimable acts that the self-loathing pull of depression couldn't drag me down as far. I stumbled and wobbled, but I did not fall.Depression also prompted a highly unexpected reaction: gratitude. Its wistful sadness made me pause, sigh, even tear up. It made me look around longingly and grasp the blessings that, during my typically time-impoverished existence, I often take for granted. It made me feel guilty for not fully appreciating the positives in my life... but this guilt was laced with vows to cherish life more once depression invariably lifted, as it always did. There's a difference between hopeless shame and hopeful guilt; the former yields self-hatred, the latter self-improvement.In this way, the tools acquired in recovery from addiction were wielded effectively against depression. There is a retail recovery element at play here: Though not as simple as a “buy one get one free” scenario, I've learned that fully buying into continued recovery from alcoholism can lead to significant savings on the pain depression can cause me. I have a craziness-combating coupon, and it's not expiring anytime soon.To be clear: This is by no means a “totally solved” happy ending. Confronting my depression meant facing some demons that have been stalking me for decades. You don’t slay dragons that large in one sitting. I have, however, made a promising start. I have discovered that progress against complicated chronic afflictions is indeed possible, and can sometimes flow unexpectedly from sources one wouldn’t expect.

No Map or Compass

There is nothing unique about my beginnings with alcoholism. The first time I got drunk it was exactly what every other alcoholic says, something inside of me changed. At the ripe age of 13 I took my first sip of alcohol outside the parameters of my own home.My parents always had empties lying around when I was a kid, mostly my dad in those years, and I found it to be both dangerous and exhilarating to take the few last bottom drips for myself. This started when I was four. Even then, the rush of being defiant felt warm and cozy -- a feeling that later in life would fuel my every move.That same feeling hit me harder than ever before when I was sitting on a garage roof with an older boy from the neighborhood. He handed me a 26 of vodka and a one-liter carton of orange juice. Vodka, orange, vodka was how I was trained to drink. Made sense to me. The feeling of that first sip changed me into everything I was not: confident, brave, careless, fearless and most importantly, accepted by all the people I looked up to.Everyone drank where I came from and there were never really any parents around. Even if they were around, they didn't seem to mind that we were stealing liquor and hiding in the basement to drink it or that they were the ones supplying it for us.My parents were not this way. My dad was an alcoholic drug addict and my mom was the same except she was a sober dry-drunk who eventually became an addiction counselor. So, I made sure to stay away from there as much as possible. This is how I ended up on that garage roof, eager to fit in and be like everyone else.I was not like everyone else. These nights became more frequent and the invites got more regular. The older boys loved getting me and my best friend as drunk as possible and seeing what they could make us do. There wasn’t much we wouldn't do and there wasn't much we wouldn't drink. I had a knack for it. I could drink whatever was given to me and drink twice as much as I was expected to hold. The drunker I got, the better I felt -- a dangerous cycle that my grandma, a recovered alcoholic, always warned me about. As a matter of fact, all my family warned me about the addiction gene we had but I always thought I was better than that. I would never end up a drunk.I kept this attitude for the next 13 years of my life. I had sobered up a few times, or tried to at least, but I always ended up coming back to the warm bath of alcohol and sinking right in.I started playing in bands in basements and garages when I was 16. We would play shows at community centers around Saskatoon and we would spend hours jamming, smoking weed and sipping Jägermeister. This is what all the greats did, so why would we do it any different? As I became bar age (or old enough to pass for bar age), I wanted to start playing shows to an older, more sophisticated crowd. The bar owners loved a guy that would play for free; as long as people were there drinking they didn't mind.I remember the first time I got offered an “exposure” show to open for a touring band on a Thursday night on Broadway in Saskatoon. The offer was one set, 20 minutes, 50% off food and drink tickets. Drink Tickets! They were really going to pay me with booze! I had never heard of such an amazingly lavish thing. My band and I, 18 years old, playing on Broadway and being fed alcohol by the establishment. I truly felt like I was making it right then and there.But as all good things do, the band came to an end when my partner and I decided to pack up and move to my hometown of Calgary, Alberta. She got accepted to a school there and I could pursue my music dreams in a much bigger market.When I returned home all of my old drinking buddies were there right where I left them and our first night in Calgary was spent in a blackout at a karaoke bar in the same neighborhood I grew up in. It felt so good to be home. Things were not easy out in Calgary, though. I had more on my plate at 22 than anyone else I knew. I spent my days giving all of my time to others and by the time evening hit I just needed a beer. A beer would usually turn into a few more, followed by a few shots, some weed, more beers until the bar was closed and I ended up at someone’s house drinking until the booze ran out or I passed out, whichever came first.For a few years this was an everyday occurrence: a perpetual cycle of hangovers and morning bongs rips to get me through until it was time for a drink. The worst part is I was happy with this. Sure, I would get a little too rowdy sometimes and get into a fight with a stranger. And I mean, sure, on occasion I would end up needing to be removed by the police from the place I was at. And, okay, I once in a while got a little too drunk and liked to beat up my friends. Isn’t that what everyone did?2015 was the worst year of my life. My grandmother, after many years of battling heart and liver problems, passed away on April 30th. She was my rock, the only safe place I knew. Before she passed, she told me that I needed to stop drinking. She told me that the way I drank worried her and she wanted me to have a good life. She sobered up for me so I figured I could do the same for her.I could not. My drunks became sad, tear-filled nights that I barely remember. I don’t remember much from that year at all. November 14, 2015 is when my drinking took a hard turn for the worse. I was playing a show the night before at a bar in Calgary. Before I went on I called my dad which was a ritual we had established since I left the family acreage back in Saskatoon and he and mom split. He didn’t answer which I didn’t find to be that unusual and I figured he would call me back when he saw the missed call.My dad in a drunken state of desperation and sadness ended his life that night alone in our family home. I could not handle the pain of losing the two of them in the same year. It was like I was walking through the woods with no map or compass. I quit working to stay home and drink and my drunks were angry and violent. I would lash out one moment and the next be pouring shots for me and all my friends.The next few years are really all a big blur that I can't seem to figure out. I was suppressing every emotion that would come up and hiding behind an image I had created with my music. No one knew what was going on inside of me unless I was in a manic, drunken state. I seemed to find a new rock bottom every few months but never seemed to hit my head hard enough.I am happy to say that as I write this down I have successfully stayed sober for two years’ worth of one day at a times, I have two beautiful daughters that I am actually able to be there for, and my partner and I have a stronger relationship than ever before. Life has not gotten easier since I put down the bottle, but it has gotten a whole lot better. Forrest Eaglespeaker's band, The North Sound, has just released their second full-length roots-rock album, As The Stars Explode. The album is an autobiography written from places of pain, realization, and healing. It weaves together themes of addiction and sobriety, mental health, and intergenerational trauma. Some of the songs were written while Eaglespeaker was in the chaos of active alcohol addiction (such as "My Happiness"), some in the more grounded and “new” life of sobriety. "Better Days" was the first song Forrest wrote in sobriety and was released as a single during the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic.Listen on Spotify. Watch the video for Heavy Heart.

Writers In Treatment: Melding Recovery, the Arts, and Information

When people in the addiction treatment industry consider the most innovative recovery figures, their thoughts often turn to Leonard Buschel. As the founder of the nonprofit Writers in Treatment, he started the REEL Recovery Film Festival, the Experience, Strength and Hope Awards, and the weekly Addiction Recovery eBulletin. All of these ventures have survived the test of time, thriving year after year by offering a vision of hope that life doesn’t end once a person embraces the path of sustainable sobriety. In truth, recovery opens the door to creativity and long-term success.For the past twelve years, Leonard Buschel has been an instrumental force in adding flavor and culture to the recovery community by filling a creative and intellectual void while helping those in need. As he expresses with passion, "There is life after sobriety. Getting sober doesn't mean losing touch with the creative and intellectual side of your personality. You don't have to be bored or boring." People recovering from substance abuse disorders and alcoholism often talk about how they could realize their dreams of giving back if they only had financial resources. However, when a person actually experiences a windfall, they tend to buy a new condo, a shiny sports car, or stash the cash away for a rainy day. They never seem to put their money where their heart is. They never take the big risk.What's inspiring about Leonard and his impressive achievements is that he is a noted exception to this rule. Hearing about how his friend, the late Buddy Arnold, had founded the Musician's Assistance Program to help musical artists recover from addiction and mental illness, Leonard decided to do the same for writers. But where could a guy working as a counselor in the treatment industry find the capital to make it happen?Driving his Volvo home one night from his job at a Los Angeles rehab, Leonard experienced a life-changing event. Without warning, a distracted driver in an SUV ran a red light and T-boned Leonard's car, sending it flying through the air. He did not realize this near-death experience was the beginning of his new life. Given a well-deserved insurance settlement, he took the funds, paid off some of his debts, bought tickets to a few plays and concerts, and hired an attorney to form a 501-C3 non-profit organization called Writers In Treatment (WIT).From the beginning, beyond sending people in the field of the written word to rehab with scholarships, the primary purpose of Writers in Treatment was to promote treatment as the best first step solution for addiction and other self-destructive behaviors. Struggling to raise funds, Writers in Treatment decided to rent the historic 175-seat Silent Movie Theatre in Los Angeles and put on the seminal REEL Recovery Film Festival.The first feature shown was Permanent Midnight, written by Jerry Stahl and starring Ben Stiller. Based on Stahl’s novel, it is one of the best films about the journey from addiction to recovery. Afterward, Jerry Stahl and Ben Stiller had a conversation about the film in front of a packed house. Engaging, fun and informative, everyone loved it, and Leonard Buschel knew he had stumbled upon something truly exciting. The promises were coming true as he envisioned a film festival to promote recovery.For the past twelve years, the REEL Recovery Film Festival & Symposium has focused on increasing awareness about the prevalence of substance abuse and mental illness in society. Unlike many one-and-done film festivals, it has continued to grow and expand year after year. The REEL Recovery Film Festival helps to reduce stigma through honest, realistic depictions of the difficult challenges plaguing families nationwide. It also provides opportunities for filmmakers to show artistic and innovative shorts, documentaries and features. Moreover, Leonard and programmer Ahbra Kaye have given away thousands of free tickets to rehabs and sober livings on both coasts.The REEL Recovery Film Festival has become a recovery staple in Los Angeles and New York. It also has taken place on multiple occasions in San Francisco, Las Vegas, Denver, Houston, Fort Lauderdale, and Vancouver. Leonard transformed an innovative idea into a valued institution by focusing on consistent execution and precise marketing. Time and again, professionals in the recovery and film communities nationwide ask if REEL Recovery can come to their city.Beyond the REEL Recovery Festival, Leonard Buschel is also the creative force behind the Experience, Strength and Hope Awards. Held annually at the Skirball Cultural Center in Los Angeles, it is a cherished event in the SoCal recovery community. The genesis of the ESH Awards was a party celebrating the publication of Christopher Lawford's recovery-oriented memoir. From that moment, a cutting edge awards show was born to honor the courage behind such published stories. In the past decade, honorees have included Academy-Award winning actor Lou Gossett, Jr., astronaut Buzz Aldrin, actor and activist Mackenzie Phillips, Emmy-Award winner Joe Pantoliano, Duran Duran bass player and co-founder John Taylor, and actor Jodie Sweetin who said in 2019, "It's incredible that such an inspirational event has now been happening for over a decade."In 2012, wanting to do more than these annual events, Writers in Treatment began publishing the Addiction Recovery eBulletin, a comprehensive news source with over twenty thousand subscribers. The weekly newsletter is now the most widely-read and highly-regarded source of information and news among industry professionals for the latest addiction and recovery stories. Beyond sponsorship of the festival, the Addiction Recovery eBulletin offers advertisers access to the eyes of the industry.Twelve years later, one man's passion for recovery continues to pay dividends, both in relation to giving back and adding an unconventional dimension to the sober world. Today, as the COVID-19 pandemic restricts cultural offerings nationwide, Leonard Buschel continues to think outside the box. He started a topical online recovery web series, Chasing The News… Stone Cold Sober, with the Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation. As hosted by William Cope Moyers and featuring many well-known sober artists and celebrities, it provides an engaging online Zoom-like offering for people in recovery and beyond. Indeed, there is no question that after thriving for so long and through so many challenges, Writers In Treatment and The REEL Recovery Film Festival continue to turn this sober vision into a vibrant reality.