My Thoughts On Charlie Sheen. Sort Of.

On one of Charlie Sheen's recent rambling rants, he was questioned about Alcoholics Anonymous (AA).   His response was to call it a "bootleg cult" and claim it had only a "5% success rate".

Dr. Drew Pinksy (of Celebrity Rehab) was questioned about Sheen's claim, and his response was, "He's got a point. "[AA's] success rates aren't that great. But the fact is, it does work when people do it."

I'm not going to address Charlie Sheen's credibility, but the fact is that all this recent press has people talking about Alcoholics Anonymous.   I find it all fascinating.

The recent press about AA has got me thinking.   If you're looking closely you will note that I've never even typed 'AA' in any post on this blog.   This will likely be the only post where AA is mentioned.

The reason I don't speak publicly about AA is that I believe - strongly - that no individual should present themselves as a representative or spokesperson for AA.   This issue is addressed directly in AA's traditions (operating guidelines) that members shall "maintain anonymity at the level of press, radio and films", and that "anonymity is the spiritual foundation of all our Traditions, ever reminding us to place principles before personalities".

I agree with the intent behind these traditions, and I believe vigorously that anonymity is the cornerstone to AA's program of recovery.   Every individual who walks into an AA meeting deserves to feel safe, and their identity should be protected.   

I also believe, though, that the Traditions were developed when the existence of the internet and the pervasiveness of television couldn't have been imagined.    The world is seeing a LOT about addiction (reality TV shows, celebrity train wrecks, news coverage of the detritus of addiction - car accidents, suicides, broken families, crime) but how much are we seeing about recovery? 

So Charlie Sheen goes on a rant, spouts off a statistic about AA (which nobody will ever be able to verify or deny), calls it a cult, and overnight AA is being mentioned at the level of press and radio - thrust into the spotlight due to the media storm surrounding Sheen.  

People had really strong reactions to Sheen's statements, whether in agreement or disagreement.    Debates raged online about AA's effectiveness, and many people took it personally, regardless of which side of the debate they were on.

When asked what I think of all this, my response is this:   It doesn't matter.  

It doesn't matter what Charlie Sheen, Dr. Drew, or anyone thinks about AA's effectiveness.  It doesn't matter if anyone thinks it is a cult.    My opinion?  If AA doesn't work for you, that's okay.   If it does work for you, that's great.   Whatever helps you stay sober, and experience personal growth and peace of mind is awesome.   Whatever way fills up your mind, body and spirit with truth, compassion and forgiveness and removes your obsession to drink or use drugs - that is a good way.

But here is what Sheen's recent escapades really got me thinking about:  I believe a big problem we have today is a lack of discourse and understanding about recovery.  

All too often, the world's exposure to addiction is limited to when a celebrity publicly implodes and is hauled off to rehab.   The media swarms around a train wreck (and we watch... I do it, too) and then falls away when the antics die down.   If the person gets sober there isn't a juicy story anymore.

What happens after all the ugliness?   What is their life like on the other side of addiction?    You won't see much about that in the National Inquirer or splashed across TMZ.  

If they don't stay sober, though, we're going to hear all about it.  Train wrecks and relapses are great for ratings. 

The media is peppering us with images of addiction, but where is the counterbalancing point?  Where are the stories about recovery? 

Many people in recovery are reluctant to talk openly about it. They fear judgment and reprisal, and for good reason.     The stigma of alcoholism and addiction remains strong.    Please note: Breaking your own anonymity is a personal choice.  I know that many people can't, or won't, and I completely respect and understand this decision. 

Back to AA's traditions, and the concept of maintaining anonymity at the level of press, radio and film, and not putting personalities before principals.   The founders of AA knew what they were doing, and I believe their intent is clear:  don't speak for AA, and don't jeopardize anyone else's anonymity.  Ever.

However, I feel strongly that there needs to be more discourse about recovery.   All kinds of recovery.     The more the topic is discussed - without jeopardizing anyone's sobriety or anonymity - the more the stigma will be chipped away, the more the silent suffering will feel they can find help, and hope.

I believe a person can be a member of AA and still talk openly about addiction and recovery without running afoul of AA's traditions.     How are people in recovery - any kind of recovery - ever going to help other suffering addicts or alcoholics if we can't speak about our journeys?  

AA also states it is a program of "attraction, not promotion".     I can help attract people to recovery without attracting them to my particular program, and certainly without promoting it.

What works for me may not work for someone else.  It's a personal choice when, if and how someone decides to get help.   What program I follow doesn't matter at all to someone who doesn't want to get sober.   What does matter, in my opinion, is helping someone understand that recovery is possible, if they want it.   And that they get to choose how they go about it. 

I hope that is what I'm doing here on my little acre of the internet.    I will never preach any particular program of recovery.  Heck, I won't even tell someone they need to get sober, let alone tell them how to stay sober.  

My dream is that there is as much dialogue about recovery, some day, as there currently is about train wrecks.   I know - it's a pipe dream.

But I can dream.  And I will.

Crying Out Now One Year Anniversary Video

I launched Crying Out Now one year ago today.

When I was struggling with alcoholism, I thought I was the only one who felt the way I felt, did the things I did.  When I finally dragged myself into a recovery meeting - broken, scared and alone - and heard someone else tell their story and it was my story, too, I felt comfort and relief for the first time in a very, very long time.

The mission of Crying Out Now is to help other women who are struggling know they aren't alone, and to provide community and support to women in recovery.   It isn't about telling people they need to get sober; some of the women who post there are still wondering about their drinking, or striving to stop.   It isn't about telling anyone how to get or stay sober, either.

Crying Out Now is about one simple thing:   the truth.

Every journey into self-love and freedom begins with the truth.  Addiction is wrapped in shame, and this keeps us from raising our voice, from taking that first and most important step towards healing, because we fear judgment.   We are scared that people won't understand, and so we keep our dark secrets to ourselves.    Shame feeds on silence, and keeps us stuck and alone.

The truth breaks through the silence.   Shame and fear hate the truth.

Over the past year women have come to Crying Out Now and told their truths, shed a light into the darkness and isolation of addiction.   Some of the women posting there told their story for the very first time.   I am awed, humbled and inspired by everyone's courage and grace.

To celebrate Crying Out Now's one year anniversary, I made a video honoring these brave women.   Please help me spread the word about the video, and help give these women the respect and recognition they so deserve.   

To all of you who tweet, facebook and put Crying Out Now on your sidebar:   THANK YOU.    You are helping to reach other women who may be struggling, and for this I am so grateful.

To all the brave, honest and graceful women who told their stories, and to all of you who offer words of encouragement and support in your comments, I offer my heartfelt gratitude. I wish I could share all the emails I get from women who are out there quietly reading, drawing inspiration and hope from your words. You are reaching thousands of people, many of whom will never comment or post, but who are feeling comfort and kinship, sometimes for the first time ever.


And to all the women who are quietly reading along, please keep coming.   If you are struggling, please know you aren't alone.   We are here to offer support, empathy and love. 

This video is dedicated to you:



You can also click here to see the video on YouTube.

Monthly Giveaway - New Item!

Congratulations to nestlake1, who won the name disc necklace from last month's giveaway!   Thank you to everyone who entered.

I'm keeping with the hand stamped theme, and also I'm celebrating Crying Out Now's one year anniversary this week, so I'm doing a recovery/inspirational themed giveaway.  

The Experience, Strength and Hope Necklace:

Click here to see this item in my Etsy shop

The necklace is made with three sterling silver hand stamped discs, and hangs on an 18" sterling silver chain.

The winner will be chosen at random on April 1st (my daughter picks a name from a hat).

To enter, please leave a comment below saying you would like to be entered in the giveaway, and please provide your email so I know how to contact you if you're the winner!   If you'd prefer to send me an email directly, please do so at:   onecraftyellie@gmail.com

This giveaway is open internationally.

Thank you!!

Breathe. And Wait.

The hardest part of sobriety for me, now, is sitting with unpleasant emotions.

My triggers now are mostly emotional:  irritation, boredom and monotony top the list.

This past week has been all about irritation, boredom and monotony.

It was school vacation week, and we had no plans.   Most of our friends - the kids' regular play dates - were away, having hightailed it to warmer climates.   The weather is abysmal - alternating between snow and rain; the world has been reduced to a black and white photograph.    I ache for splashes of color, birdsong and the sun on my face.

There was only one day this past week where we could go outside.   The rest of the days were spent pinging around in the house, tripping over our own feet and trying to stay out of our own way.

By Saturday, I was done.  My moods alternated between excruciating boredom and profound irritation.   I did my best to interact with the kids - play games, read books, color, do crafts.   These activities don't come naturally to me, and this is a source of existential angst.  Playing Legos with Finn and drawing endless pictures with Greta are amusing to me for about twenty minutes.   Then the guilt (what's wrong with me?  Aren't I supposed to want to do this with my kids?) and itchiness (oh MAN I'm bored) sets in, and I feel trapped in my own skin.  

I longed to escape into the computer, the television or a good book.   None of these things were possible, not really, until the kids were in bed.    Every evening I would lie on my couch and soak in the silence, too edgy to watch television, write or read.   Then I would go to bed and start the cycle all over again the next day.  

By Saturday evening my mind drifted to thoughts of a drink.  Just one freaking glass of wine to loosen my shoulders, wrap a warm glow around the tedium.   

Food is another challenge when the days are long and boring.  Rewarding myself with food was a big part of eating for me, before.   My mind scrambles for relief and eating and drinking were my trap doors, my ripcord out of my own head.

Now I don't drink, and I don't eat to excess, so at the end of that long day I felt bereft, lost, and more than a little edgy.

There are tools I can use to get through difficult times, and they work. Sometimes.   I made gratitude lists, I thought about how much worse this week would have been if I were drinking.   I remember the self-hatred I felt after a bout of mindless eating.   I know I don't want to go back there.   But it doesn't stop me from thinking, on the really bad days, is this seriously all there is?     Just an endless stretch of road with no relief? 

My mind is programmed to find the nearest exit away from unpleasant emotions.   When the days are full and I'm rushing from one thing to another, I don't have time for existential crises.   Too much time is not easy for me.   The hyperactive squirrel in my brain wakes up and starts foraging for self-pity, negativity and angst.

Saturday evening, as the kids watched a movie, I lay curled on my bed, longing for escape.   Steve was away on a business trip and wouldn't be home until the next morning.    The thought of giving the kids a bath, cooking dinner, getting them into their pajamas and reading a story seemed insurmountably hard.  

I can't do it, I thought.   I want to drop away from my life, just for a little while.

Finn yelled from downstairs that he wanted popcorn, and my shoulders hunched in irritation.   I can't even escape for five minutes, I thought.  I'm so done.

Everything passes, and Saturday night did, too.     

Recovery, for me, is about learning to feel everything.    I can no longer adjust my moods with food or alcohol like some mad scientist. 

Sunday morning I woke up with a peaceful mind.    If the hardest part of recovery is learning to sit with the tough emotions, the reward is the self-love and pride I feel when I make it through. 

In the rested, sane light of day, I wondered what was so difficult about the night before, anyway?   I realized that so much of my trouble is born out of my own thoughts.    I can't think my way out of unpleasantness.  

But I can breathe.   And wait.  

And so that's what I do.

Raise Your Voice. Please.

Please read this.  I need your help and support.

I read a statistic that 42% of American adults are affected by addiction, either directly or indirectly.   Whether you have struggled yourself (or continue to struggle) or have ever loved someone who has, nearly half of American adults have felt the sting of addiction in some form.

And yet it remains one of those topics that isn't talked about openly very often outside of recovery meetings or therapist's offices.   

When I finally dragged myself into a recovery meeting and heard another woman, someone I had never met. share my story, my feelings, I was floored.   Up until that point, and despite the staggering statistics of how many people struggle with addiction, I honestly thought I was the only one who did the things I did, who felt the way I felt.    I believed with all my heart I was morally corrupt, weak-willed, broken beyond repair.  

For the first time in a long time, I felt a stirring of hope.   If she can get sober, maybe I can, too. 

I started Crying Out Now almost one year ago to bring the same feeling of relief and comfort I experienced by hearing other people's struggles and triumphs to other women who may feel the same way I felt - totally alone, isolated and scared.

I'm only half joking when I say I want to change the world one story at a time.

The response to Crying Out Now has amazed me.   I wasn't sure that anyone would ever have the guts to submit their story - anonymously or not - but I figured it was worth a try.

Since last March nearly 125 women have stepped forward and shared their truths.   Hundreds of people have commented to show their empathy and support.    Every time I get an email from someone who says they are reading the posts at Crying Out Now and feeling less alone, my heart soars.

I had been struggling to find a way to honor Crying Out Now's first birthday.    And then I saw this video at Violence Unsilenced.     VU was founded by one of my most favorite people in the world, Maggie.   The idea for Crying Out Now came about because I was so inspired by the bravery, grace and truth in the voices of the women who post there.   I wanted to do for addiction and recovery what Violence Unsilenced is doing for survivors of domestic violence, sexual assault, and sexual abuse.

And so, with continued admiration and respect for Maggie and Violence Unsilenced (and with Maggie's permission), I want to create a video honoring the voices of Crying Out Now.  

I'm asking for your help.

To all the people out there reading who have ever struggled with addiction or recovery, who love someone who has (or is), or who admire and support women raising their voices to overcome shame and addiction, please go here to read about how to contribute one simple photograph (and it can be done anonymously) to Crying Out Now's one year anniversary video (submissions due by March 2nd).     

You don't have to be sober, in recovery or even have any direct experience with addiction to show your support.   

Together we are raising our hearts and voices, and together we are healing.
    

Here is another link to the post about how to submit a photo:  http://www.cryingoutnow.com/2011/02/your-voice-matters-come-show-your.html

THANK YOU.

-Ellie

A Mother Like Me

There she is, I think.  And she's had another baby. 

I'm standing in the church pew, mouthing the words to a hymn and watching a woman across the aisle from me.   Her family is always sitting in the same place, her five boys lined up next to her like Matryoshka stacking dolls, one right after the other, hair brushed and shoes shining.   Her husband is belting out the words to the hymn; he looks over at her and gives her a loving wink.

Her baby looks to be about two months old.  We haven't been to church in a while, and I hadn't noticed that she was pregnant the last time we were here.   Six kids, I think, feeling horror and awe simultaneously.

She rubs her baby's downy head, slowly rocking him back and forth as she sings.   Something twists in my gut:  jealousy?  admiration?   Somehow, it feels more like rage.

The hymn ends and her family all sits down in the pew, politely folding their hands in their laps. 

I go to sit down and land on Finn, who is sprawled out in the pew, kicking his feet in the air.   He lets out a squeal as I wrestle him upright.

How does she do it, I ponder, pretending to pray and peeking at her out of the corner of my eye.   Her own eyes are closed, a beatific smile on her face.

I'm feeling snarly and scribbly, like a caricature of a middle aged mother, eyes wild, hair pointing out in all directions.   Finn is picking his nose and asking for a donut.

I bet she doesn't close herself in the bathroom and sob while her baby cries in the next room and her boys fight over the Wii, I think uncharitably.  There's probably no Wii in her house, just shelves and shelves of educational toys. 

It's time for communion, and her husband plants a kiss on her cheek before he steps up to the altar.   I mentally add Christian books to their perfect sun-splashed and Wii-free playroom.

Finn won't stop wiggling, whining every five minutes about whether he's being good enough to get a donut after church.   I lean down and hiss a threat into his ear, my fingers roughly clutching his arm.

Her baby begins to fuss, and she gently hush-hushes him as she rocks him back and forth.   One of her sons rummages in her diaper bag and pops a pacifier into the baby's mouth.

Six kids, I think again.   As people shuffle up for communion I kneel in the pew and ponder having three times as many kids as I have now.    Quiet rage rumbles in my belly; what is it about her that is making me so angry, I wonder.   I watch them file back into the pew and all simultaneously kneel down to pray. 

She looks so happy, I think.   How can she be happy with that many kids?    I can't even handle two.

And then I know.  I know where the rage is coming from.   She seems to wallow in motherhood.

I am not someone who wallows in motherhood.    This truth hits me out of the blue, and I feel tears prick at the corners of my eyes.

I fold my hands and close my eyes, pretending to pray to keep tears from streaming down my cheeks.    Images of the past week float through my head:   angrily shushing Finn over and over as I try to participate in a conference call for a project I'm working on.  Plying my children with bowls of ice cream and endless amounts of television and video games so I can finish work, talk on the phone to a friend who needs my help, answer emails.

Finn leans his head onto my shoulder and distractedly strokes my arm.    Momma?  he whispers tentatively, I love you. 

I lean back in the pew and gather him into my lap, inhaling his salty-sweet boy smell.   

I look over at the woman with six kids, and catch her watching me out of the corner of her eye.   I bet she thinks I have a sun-splashed playroom full of educational toys.   I bet she thinks I'm a wallow-er.

And then I catch myself.   I don't know what she's thinking - perhaps she's remembering how she used to have two kids and more of a life?  Perhaps she's picturing me getting into a car and escaping to a real job every day?

I give her a smile, and she smiles back.

I hope she's thinking what I'm thinking, finally:   there is another mother, like me.

Little Gems - It's All About the Awesome

There are little gems in my life - places I go on the internet to recharge my spirit, have a good laugh or marvel at someone's unique brand of creativity.     These are places of innovation, humor, grace and beauty.    Please take a moment to check them out; you won't be disappointed.

Hyperbole and A Half is the blog of an amazing woman named Allie.  I go here when I want a belly laugh - you know the kind that makes tears stream down your face and call to someone in the next room to say "You HAVE to come see this!!"    Yeah, that kind.   

I don't know how to describe Allie's blog, other than to say she uses Paintbrush to create cartoon images that boggle my mind, she is one of the funniest women on the internet, and I think she's a genius.   My favorite post of hers is this one, so if you're not going to go to her blog and check it out, at least click on that link.   If you don't start reading her, though, you're simply not laughing enough.

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Storybleed is an online magazine (it is also printed quarterly) that combines images and words in a way I've never seen before.   It shouldn't surprise me that Storybleed is all sorts of awesome, because many of my favorite women in all the land are editors and writers.   Founded and published by the amazing Megan Jordan, this is how Storybleed describes itself:  

"Find yourself where stories blur the lines.   Story Bleed aches for you to discover yourself where the lines between our stories bleed together, unexpectedly resonating. Lines smeared by the eager hand. A literary magazine celebrating essays and art that move and enlighten."

Do yourself a favor:  find a few quiet moments, a steaming cup of hot coffee and lose yourself to the beauty that is Storybleed.  
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EllisLynnStudio is the shiny brand new Etsy shop of my friend, Catherine.   While I love doing nice things for friends and promoting their businesses and stuff, I'm here posting about Catherine's shop because I love her creativity.    Where the rest of us see an ordinary household object, Catherine sees art.   She even makes her own handmade paper, creating stunning colors and textures that display her own unique style.

My new favorite pieces of Catherine's are her Let Go/God Boxes.      When I'm struggling with something in my life that I just can't seem to let go of, I write it on a piece of paper and put it into my Let Go Box, close the lid, and walk away.  I have a little ritual around how I do this - you can discover your own - and all I can say is it really helps me stop ruminating cycles, negative or corrosive thinking and reminds me that I don't have as much control as I'd like to think I do.

I also use it to store my recovery medallions - each box has a heart inside, as well as an inspirational message:

Each box comes with a beautifully crafted message, too:

These boxes are the perfect gift for any friend or loved one, someone going through a difficult time, or someone in recovery.  

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I was recently introduced to another wonderful Etsy shop, LadyBird Land.     I love her folk art, with its vibrant colors and powerful, oftentimes funny, messages.   She sells magnets, prints and pendants and I love how she arranges her shop not by the type of piece, but by categories like:  For the FUR LOVING Girl, For the CREATIVE Girl, for the FAITHFUL, etc.   My favorite?   For the SASSY Girl.    I have this magnet on my fridge:

And this Print is a favorite, too:

"She's Sassy, Classy and a Little Bad-Assey" 

If you follow Brene Brown's blog, Ordinary Courage (and if you're not, shame on you) she's hosting a giveaway RIGHT NOW for LadyBird Land.   Run, don't walk, to check out her amazing store.

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So, that's my list for today.   Please tell me about the awesome places you go, too.   

FULL DISCLOSURE:   I wasn't compensated or even prompted to talk about anything in this post.  I did this all on my own because I'm all about spreading the AWESOME around.