Coming out as a alcoholic
Coming out as a alcoholic
THE BLOG
Going Public With Alcoholism
Fran Moreland Johns 07/18/14 07:47 AM ET
I am, among other things, an alcoholic.
When describing myself list-wise, alcoholic would probably come after writer, wife, activist, mom etc; but I am still, and in a very public way, an alcoholic. It's the business of being public that puts me at odds with a lot of my fellow alcoholics. But I haven't had anyone complain, and I am increasingly certain that going public isn't such a bad idea.
Most alcoholics have very good reasons for keeping their anonymity. Outside of AA meetings their addiction -- conquered or not -- could cost them jobs, friendships, reputations. I lost some of all the above in my drinking days, but letting people know that those days are behind me poses no identifiable risks.
At six years alcohol-free, I moved to San Francisco in 1992 to marry the old friend known ever since as my Final Husband. I had to make a choice: Spend the rest of my life saying "No, thanks, I don't care for one right now," or, "You know, I'm an alcoholic. I can't handle the stuff." If I chose the latter, I figured I would soon not have to say it very often, if at all. I chose the latter, and never looked back.
The Final Husband, a man who does love his cocktail hour martini (gin, of course, up with a twist) and a good wine with dinner, bought into the plan. He would have far preferred a wife who would join him in wine appreciation, but took my word for the fact that I am an addict and vowed to support me. For the first several years of our alcohol-bifurcated union, he quietly took a bottle of non-alcoholic wine to cocktail parties so I could be comfortably unobtrusive. (This led to one rather hilarious episode that has become a favorite family story: From across the room in a crowded party thrown by one of San Francisco's impeccably elegant hostesses, I once spotted a gentleman filling his lady friend's glass from my non-alcoholic wine bottle. Unable to dive over the crowd to intercept, I watched as her pleasant smile turned to a disbelieving grimace and she set the glass down rather abruptly on a nearby table. We have imagined all manner of repercussions from this incident, but thought better of telling the hostess.)
From the beginning, I worked hard to craft comments that would not come across as judgmental or argumentative. Those were mild-mannered remarks like "I was a 'social drinker' for a long time but my drinking changed and became very bad for me." Or, "Some of us can handle alcohol and some can't. I really can't." But I also fought hard against the common, almost reflexive attitude that being alcohol-free must leave my life barren and deprived, supremely dull. So I tried to say things like, "Whoa. I hated feeling like my words and thoughts were not super-sharp." Or, "I really love waking up in the morning without feeling blurry, let alone hung over." In the land of perpetual cocktail events, wine etiquette and Nectar-of-the-Gods believers, living outside that culture is generally assumed to be the worst of all worlds. I took the attitude that I'm delighted to see others enjoy themselves with alcohol, but for me, being without it is far more of a delight. Unadulterated joy, as a matter of fact. My comments at least carried the weight of demonstrated truth.
After the first few responses of shock and disbelief, my new friends on the Left Coast fairly quickly adapted to this strange situation and joined me in laughing about it all... or soon, ignoring the issue completely. I never imagined that it mattered to anyone but me. But here is why I suspect being public about being alcohol-free does indeed matter, and perhaps more of us should consider doing that. One day I received a Valentine that reinforced my conviction about having taken the right course. It was from a woman I had known, though not intimately, for several years; we had frequently been together at concerts and parties. She is bright, pretty, accomplished in many areas, widely admired and respected. If anyone had ever suggested to me that she had an issue with alcohol I would have scoffed in utter disbelief.
The Valentine included several brief lines. She said she was sober now. She said I had influenced her to try that route to new life. Over the years I've gotten several other notes, like the email that just came, wanting to make sure I saw John Skoyles' essay in the New York Times Sunday Review "about his coming of age with the bottle. I am 14 years plus now," she wrote. "I have you to thank."
It may be mid-summer, but that's the best Valentine's gift I've ever received.
Going Public With Alcoholism
Fran Moreland Johns 07/18/14 07:47 AM ET
I am, among other things, an alcoholic.
When describing myself list-wise, alcoholic would probably come after writer, wife, activist, mom etc; but I am still, and in a very public way, an alcoholic. It's the business of being public that puts me at odds with a lot of my fellow alcoholics. But I haven't had anyone complain, and I am increasingly certain that going public isn't such a bad idea.
Most alcoholics have very good reasons for keeping their anonymity. Outside of AA meetings their addiction -- conquered or not -- could cost them jobs, friendships, reputations. I lost some of all the above in my drinking days, but letting people know that those days are behind me poses no identifiable risks.
At six years alcohol-free, I moved to San Francisco in 1992 to marry the old friend known ever since as my Final Husband. I had to make a choice: Spend the rest of my life saying "No, thanks, I don't care for one right now," or, "You know, I'm an alcoholic. I can't handle the stuff." If I chose the latter, I figured I would soon not have to say it very often, if at all. I chose the latter, and never looked back.
The Final Husband, a man who does love his cocktail hour martini (gin, of course, up with a twist) and a good wine with dinner, bought into the plan. He would have far preferred a wife who would join him in wine appreciation, but took my word for the fact that I am an addict and vowed to support me. For the first several years of our alcohol-bifurcated union, he quietly took a bottle of non-alcoholic wine to cocktail parties so I could be comfortably unobtrusive. (This led to one rather hilarious episode that has become a favorite family story: From across the room in a crowded party thrown by one of San Francisco's impeccably elegant hostesses, I once spotted a gentleman filling his lady friend's glass from my non-alcoholic wine bottle. Unable to dive over the crowd to intercept, I watched as her pleasant smile turned to a disbelieving grimace and she set the glass down rather abruptly on a nearby table. We have imagined all manner of repercussions from this incident, but thought better of telling the hostess.)
From the beginning, I worked hard to craft comments that would not come across as judgmental or argumentative. Those were mild-mannered remarks like "I was a 'social drinker' for a long time but my drinking changed and became very bad for me." Or, "Some of us can handle alcohol and some can't. I really can't." But I also fought hard against the common, almost reflexive attitude that being alcohol-free must leave my life barren and deprived, supremely dull. So I tried to say things like, "Whoa. I hated feeling like my words and thoughts were not super-sharp." Or, "I really love waking up in the morning without feeling blurry, let alone hung over." In the land of perpetual cocktail events, wine etiquette and Nectar-of-the-Gods believers, living outside that culture is generally assumed to be the worst of all worlds. I took the attitude that I'm delighted to see others enjoy themselves with alcohol, but for me, being without it is far more of a delight. Unadulterated joy, as a matter of fact. My comments at least carried the weight of demonstrated truth.
After the first few responses of shock and disbelief, my new friends on the Left Coast fairly quickly adapted to this strange situation and joined me in laughing about it all... or soon, ignoring the issue completely. I never imagined that it mattered to anyone but me. But here is why I suspect being public about being alcohol-free does indeed matter, and perhaps more of us should consider doing that. One day I received a Valentine that reinforced my conviction about having taken the right course. It was from a woman I had known, though not intimately, for several years; we had frequently been together at concerts and parties. She is bright, pretty, accomplished in many areas, widely admired and respected. If anyone had ever suggested to me that she had an issue with alcohol I would have scoffed in utter disbelief.
The Valentine included several brief lines. She said she was sober now. She said I had influenced her to try that route to new life. Over the years I've gotten several other notes, like the email that just came, wanting to make sure I saw John Skoyles' essay in the New York Times Sunday Review "about his coming of age with the bottle. I am 14 years plus now," she wrote. "I have you to thank."
It may be mid-summer, but that's the best Valentine's gift I've ever received.
I would ask the author why she had such difficulty socially after becoming sober, limiting herself to only two options. This implies there are only those two choices when in fact there are many others. One of those other choices which were not considered by the author is simply, 'I don't drink'. Half the people in the world don't and never will.
Claiming to have an issue with alcohol is taken by many to be a justification for consumption rather than sobriety. I would suggest she might influence more people by simply showing that she has exercised her choice to never drink.
I had to make a choice: Spend the rest of my life saying "No, thanks, I don't care for one right now," or, "You know, I'm an alcoholic. I can't handle the stuff."
Claiming to have an issue with alcohol is taken by many to be a justification for consumption rather than sobriety. I would suggest she might influence more people by simply showing that she has exercised her choice to never drink.
IMO, simply saying "I don't drink" with no further explanation or fanfare is viewed with suspicion both inside and outside of the recovery movement; although, for very different reasons.
I suspect, but can't confirm, that any choice beyond the two offered by the author would be outside of society's accepted recovery paradigm and, therefore, unacceptable. That is to say, one either hides their recovery, or proclaims it and explains it in some detail whenever alcohol consumption is part of the social mix.
IMO, simply saying "I don't drink" with no further explanation or fanfare is viewed with suspicion both inside and outside of the recovery movement; although, for very different reasons.
IMO, simply saying "I don't drink" with no further explanation or fanfare is viewed with suspicion both inside and outside of the recovery movement; although, for very different reasons.
There was another post in one of my threads that stated one of the main stigmas is a reflection of the person across for you to face what they are unwilling to face themselves. We remind others of what they chose to ignore. Not everyone is ready and certainly unwilling to face life and wake up, IMO.
When I was younger and still drinking, I would refuse alcohol in certain social situations, knowing what I became while drinking. It was painful and awkward, and I usually had a plan to get out of it so I could drink the way I wanted/needed to.
Now that I've been sober awhile, I just come out with it. If there's any pressure beyond turning down the first offer, I usually say, "I'm allergic. I break out in handcuffs." I've found that can still be awkward -- for the other person, not me. I really don't care.
Peace & Love,
Sugah
Now that I've been sober awhile, I just come out with it. If there's any pressure beyond turning down the first offer, I usually say, "I'm allergic. I break out in handcuffs." I've found that can still be awkward -- for the other person, not me. I really don't care.
Peace & Love,
Sugah
I actually like the message from Freshstart and Unclemeat actually. In both examples we are not taking on the negative connotation of, "I cannot drink." I don't believe I cannot drink. I can in fact drink but it comes with a whole host of consequences including clouding my spiritual connection and destroying the life I have and continue to create based around sobriety.
It is not my problem that I am choosing not to indulge in an addiction. I am choosing to do something about it. It is not the other person's problem I am an addict. But in no way does me being an addict make me an inferior person, quite the contrary actually...it makes me human and aware.
Slight nuance but one I see value in the semantics.
It is not my problem that I am choosing not to indulge in an addiction. I am choosing to do something about it. It is not the other person's problem I am an addict. But in no way does me being an addict make me an inferior person, quite the contrary actually...it makes me human and aware.
Slight nuance but one I see value in the semantics.
I suspect that any choice beyond the two offered by the author would be outside of society's accepted recovery paradigm and, therefore, unacceptable. That is to say, one either hides their recovery, or proclaims it and explains it in some detail whenever alcohol consumption is part of the social mix.
I'm rarely in situations where I have to even explain myself these days.
When pressured, at this stage of my sobriety I have no problems mentioning I'm in recovery.
Thoughts are wandering in the back of my mind would a person grossly over weight have to plead his case if they turned down desert?
When pressured, at this stage of my sobriety I have no problems mentioning I'm in recovery.
Thoughts are wandering in the back of my mind would a person grossly over weight have to plead his case if they turned down desert?
quat
Join Date: Jul 2013
Location: terra (mostly)firma
Posts: 4,822
I think I'll go with self-centered , situational revelation.
At a social event I will ask, to be polite, if I can get anyone anything, if someone responses with a non alcoholic beverage choice, it honestly doesn't even cross my mind to question why.
I do not see the need to have a 'sober' facebook page or annoucement. I do not see what benfit there would be for Me, I'm sober for Me, that this benefits others is obviously a 'good' thing but it is in reality a consequence of my being sober. All my current and future interpersonal interactions will be me as a sober person, hard to divine why my past would be relevant to someone else.
present company excepted
At a social event I will ask, to be polite, if I can get anyone anything, if someone responses with a non alcoholic beverage choice, it honestly doesn't even cross my mind to question why.
I do not see the need to have a 'sober' facebook page or annoucement. I do not see what benfit there would be for Me, I'm sober for Me, that this benefits others is obviously a 'good' thing but it is in reality a consequence of my being sober. All my current and future interpersonal interactions will be me as a sober person, hard to divine why my past would be relevant to someone else.
present company excepted
First I am in no way advocating breaking tradition 11. I do believe being a role model and leading by example is important and provides a way to help others and be of service as part of AA. My Firm knows that I am sober. Do they know my backstory? No. Do they know how far down I went? No, nor do clients. But clients know I am sober too and if they don't when the opportunity presents I let it be known. I do not break my anonymity by saying I am in AA but if asked I will say that I changed my life and found recovery in a 12 step program.
By doing the above I have had others reach out when they needed help by knowing where they could turn. I see value in this, as more and more people are exposed and will be exposed to addiction in my opinion. I have also attained things financially and professionally that puts me in a very small percentage of the World. I think its interesting as Gabor Mate does in In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts to level the playing field and show that the difference between me and the homeless guy on the bench is simply a matter of choices, time and progression.
Addicts are often shamed because we represent what others are unwilling to accept in themselves. This is easy to do when you can look at a poor soul who has lost everything and say well, he did it too himself. Its safe to say, well that is not me. But what if more of the people we look up too or the people who have what we want? Well that makes it tougher for those that are unwilling to look at themselves say well I am not like them if they want what I have.
By doing the above I have had others reach out when they needed help by knowing where they could turn. I see value in this, as more and more people are exposed and will be exposed to addiction in my opinion. I have also attained things financially and professionally that puts me in a very small percentage of the World. I think its interesting as Gabor Mate does in In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts to level the playing field and show that the difference between me and the homeless guy on the bench is simply a matter of choices, time and progression.
Addicts are often shamed because we represent what others are unwilling to accept in themselves. This is easy to do when you can look at a poor soul who has lost everything and say well, he did it too himself. Its safe to say, well that is not me. But what if more of the people we look up too or the people who have what we want? Well that makes it tougher for those that are unwilling to look at themselves say well I am not like them if they want what I have.
I also really like UncleMeat69 and Freshstart57 positions.
No, thank you. is a complete sentence. Anyone rude enough to push would be crossing my boundaries and might expect a flippant response but truthfully, I have yet to come across that kind of rudness.
Maybe it is who I associate with or some vibes I give out: people just do not get pushy or nosy with me.
The other day, I ran into my old buddy Bob who is a pothead and one of the nicest guys I know. He offered me a toke of his joint (it's legal in Seattle) and I just told him: Thanks Bob but I quit and he said: Good for you. We then went for coffee and had a nice normal chat. Pot was not mentioned once after I declined it probably because I did not launch into a lengthy explanation.
I think I was able to be so casual about it because marijuana was never my DOC. When it comes to alcohol I would not tell people I quit (good thing about being a closet drunk is that no one knows me as a lush LOL), I just stick to no thank you and no one bats an eye.
No, thank you. is a complete sentence. Anyone rude enough to push would be crossing my boundaries and might expect a flippant response but truthfully, I have yet to come across that kind of rudness.
Maybe it is who I associate with or some vibes I give out: people just do not get pushy or nosy with me.
The other day, I ran into my old buddy Bob who is a pothead and one of the nicest guys I know. He offered me a toke of his joint (it's legal in Seattle) and I just told him: Thanks Bob but I quit and he said: Good for you. We then went for coffee and had a nice normal chat. Pot was not mentioned once after I declined it probably because I did not launch into a lengthy explanation.
I think I was able to be so casual about it because marijuana was never my DOC. When it comes to alcohol I would not tell people I quit (good thing about being a closet drunk is that no one knows me as a lush LOL), I just stick to no thank you and no one bats an eye.
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