Which is safer, pot or alcohol? Which is “better”? If you had to pick, which would you prefer your teenagers to do—smoke pot or drink alcohol? The debate has been roaring, now more than ever, considering that legalization of marijuana (in small amounts) is on the table in Colorado. The ballot proposal is called “The Regulate Marijuana Like Alcohol Act of 2012.”

There’s even a site called saferchoice.org, which touts marijuana as the “safer” choice. Last I read, marijuana use was up among teens, and alcohol was down, but the pendulum always swings back and forth, back and forth.

So which is safer/better/preferable?

Is this the question we really should be asking? It’s not like alcohol’s going to swap places with pot and we’re going to go back to the days of Prohibition. By this time, alcohol is a given part of our culture, like tv and the internet.

I realize there are compelling arguments for the legalization of marijuana (supposedly no one has ever overdosed on pot; people get less violent when they smoke pot, not more, like they do when they drink; making pot illegal taxes our criminal justice system–you can find many of these arguments online), but still—Why add another drug to the roster of iffy life choices? Why make it easy?

And do we really want to add toker-moms and dads to the growing ranks of “cocktail moms” (and dads!)? Instead of sneaking into their parents’ liquor cabinets, teens could sneak into their parents’ pot stashes!  We don’t need to model another easy “check out of real life” option for our teens.

I’m familiar with the popular argument that if you make something forbidden, it becomes more attractive (see Prohibition), but I also think the converse is true: for some people, the fact that pot is illegal is a deal killer, enough of a deterrent to make them stay away. I know it is for me. I’m a mom of three, and I try to be a role model for my kids. Just the thought of my kids busting me doing something illegal is enough to make me steer clear of this popular suburban pastime. Or the thought of them watching me being handcuffed and carted away, calling after me, “Mom—why would you break the law?!” Maybe I’m just a killjoy, but still…And–full disclosure–maybe I’m biased, as the sister of someone who went to rehab after smoking a little pot led to smoking five times a day, which led to staying emotionally stuck at age 14 (as she’ll tell anyone who asks), which led to harder drugs. Alcohol has always been one thing; drugs, another. And there’s a line between the two that I wouldn’t want my own kids to cross.

At least now, people have to think twice before they light up. First, they have to deal with buying it in secret, and then they have to plan where and when to smoke it so they won’t get caught. This makes smoking pot a more conscious act, rather than a default behavior.

All behavior is healthier when it’s conscious, whether it’s eating, drinking, or whatever else. For example, when drinking becomes mindless bingeing instead of conscious consuming (think: having a great glass of wine to complement a meal), it becomes a slippery slope–a way to escape life’s problems rather than a means of enhancing the sensual experience of life.

Taking drugs has always been a counterculture choice, and that’s how it should remain: counterculture. That’s the allure, and that’s the deterrent. Make it mainstream, and you’ve opened up a whole other can of worms.

Do we really need to put another readily available, time-sucking  temptation in our children’s paths? I say, make it hard and you’ll save a lot of people from addiction and drug dependence.

Examining the effects of his pot-smoking days, memoirist Nic Sheff put it best on the website, The Fix, when he wrote: “For me, all these years later, I still suffer from all the fucking decades I lost to smoking pot. My emotional maturity is probably a little better than a 16-year-old’s (maybe)—but not a whole lot. I basically overreact to any kind of problem I have. And I definitely blame a lot of that on my years getting high.”

In the New York Times Room for Debate section, Brian E. Perron, an Associate Professor of Social Work at the University of Michigan, points to the need for further research on marijuana before we jump into fighting for legalization. He concludes that, “…an increase in marijuana use among the teenage population is not good, even if rates for more problematic substances are on the decline. Foremost, we are unclear of the long-term consequences of marijuana use on the developing brain of the adolescent. The potency of marijuana has also increased significantly over the years. Thus, along with an increased sensation of euphoria, we can expect an increase in its addictive potential. The research is also clear that early involvement with substances is associated with heavier use and a variety of other problems later in life. From this perspective, marijuana may be associated with fewer risks in comparison to other substances, but marijuana use does introduce its own set of known and possibly unexpected problems that are deeply concerning.”

That’s enough for me to hold my hand up and say, wait—what’s the rush?  Do we really need another readily available, commonplace drug?

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By Jenna Hollenstein

For years before I decided to stop drinking, I struggled with a single question: Am I an alcoholic? I thought there were two answers: Identify as an alcoholic and stop drinking, or not identify as an alcoholic and continue. Since I quit, I realized there were a host of other very important questions I could have asked myself in order to really understand the role alcohol played in my life, and to examine the true nature and quality of my life.

One of my favorite relationship books is The Hard Questions: 100 Questions to Ask Before You Say “I Do” by Susan Piver. This slim volume poses deceptively simple questions for discussion by couples about to get hitched. By focusing on several key areas – home, work, sex, family – it raises questions from the ordinary to the profound to challenge and inspire couples to gain a deeper understanding of one another.

The beauty I saw in this book was that it didn’t skim over the “small” stuff. Anyone who has ever been in a relationship (ie, everyone) knows that it’s often the little things – the subtle details – that spur continual frustration, ongoing tension, and huge arguments. While big questions of whether to have kids and what spiritual beliefs to impart to said kids are fairly standard pre-vow fodder, who does the food shopping and who will balance the checkbook might never attain that level of conversational importance.

Similarly, I believe there are subtle – hard – questions when it comes to drinking. Most people are familiar with the “big” questions you should ask yourself if you think alcohol is a problem – Do you black out? Do you need a drink in the morning? Have you injured yourself or others while drinking?

But equally important are the subtler questions related to quality of life and living in awareness. (Note: you can substitute many different behaviors – shopping, working, eating, etc. – for drinking in the list below.) Following are some thoughts I’ve collected on the hard questions related to drinking; feel free to add to this list:

1. Are there things you do not or cannot do unless you’re drinking? Dance? Laugh? Speak the truth? Open up to others? Take risks? Joke? Joke hurtfully? Cry? Argue? Hit? Smoke? Do drugs? Have sex with your partner? Have sex with someone other than your partner?
2. What prompts you to drink? Stress? Sadness? Anxiety? Uncertainty? Celebration? Can you imagine what it would feel like to not drink in response to that prompt?
3. When was the last time you had fun without drinking? Who were you with and why did you have fun? Are the people you’re with and the reasons you have fun different when you are drinking and when you aren’t drinking?
4. When was the last time you relaxed without drinking? What are other ways in which you relax? How do these different ways of relaxing affect you while doing them and afterwards?
5. Has drinking kept you from doing anything? Getting a good night’s sleep? Getting a better job? Ending a crappy relationship? Writing a book?
6. Have you ever considered not drinking for a period of time? 1 week? 1 month? 1 year? How does it feel to consider life without alcohol for a period of time?

Beyond the big question of whether or not you’re an alcoholic, it’s important to ask the (perhaps) harder question of whether alcohol (or something else) interferes with your basic level of awareness, if you in fact use it to avoid certain things in your life. The answers will be different for everyone and only you can find the correct balance for yourself. But asking is a good place to start.

Jenna Hollenstein is a writer and nutritionist living in New York City. Through her blog, Drinking to Distraction, she explores the themes of addiction, awareness, distractions, Buddhism, meditation, and living in the moment.

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By Melissa Burton

We live in an alcoholic world. Even if you’re a sage of sobriety, it’s incredibly difficult to resist the barrage of alcoholic images that wash over you wherever you turn—from the sexy studs gazing out at you from Budweiser billboards to the sweating glasses of Pinot Grigio  that a waiter traipses across your favorite restaurant. For a recovering alcoholic, images like these are a constant tease. Like Pavlov’s dogs, we go on autopilot when it comes to our cues and responses. Even the mere sight of liquor kicks up my cravings. When I’m at home, the familiar routines of recovery protect me from going off the rails. But when I travel it’s a whole different story. Which is why, for me and many other alcoholics I know, flying can be such a torturous experience.

Take my recent trip from New York to Los Angeles. As soon as I enter the terminal in JFK,  cocktails begin to beckon me as shamelessly as hookers at a Shriner’s Convention. After enduring a half-hour line and a clumsy pat down at security, I sullenly trudge towards my gate, dragging my leaden bag behind me. As I make my way across the airport I pass an endless procession of cheesy bars and lounges. Despite their over-priced drinks and ludicrous decor they seem strangely enticing—a restful oasis amidst all this airport awfulness. Suddenly a familiar voice starts up inside my head,  “Stop, relax, have a quick cocktail!” it whispers. “Does a watered down daiquiri at JFK even count as a real drink?” The flush-faced revelers at the bar all look so happy and content; a stark contrast to the sour dowagers biding their time  at the gate. Is there really any question about where I’d rather be? The serenity I have carefully cultivated during my many years of recovery starts showing cracks, replaced by a panicky craving. I take a series of deep breaths and try to ignore the enticements, keeping my fragile sobriety intact for the moment.

After settling into a cramped seat in the back of the plane, I’m  joined by a frazzled blond in her late twenties who sullenly plumps herself down next to me. As soon as she’s buckled in, she begins frantically stabbing at the flight attendant’s call button, crossing herself as though seated in a pew at St. Patrick’s. When the stewardess finally arrives, she anxiously demands to know how long she has to wait to order some wine. After takeoff, the flight crew begins taking drink orders and dispensing colorful little bottles all around. In no time at all, everyone around me is flying high—the general mood brightens noticeably while mine continues to plummet. Once again I fight off the urge to join in, and resign myself to a long, boring flight, while the blond bimbo blithely sucks downs her fourth bottle of Merlot. Flipping through the channels on my in-flight TV, I stumble on a marathon of back-to-back episodes of Millionaire Matchmaker and spend the next five hours watching hook-ups that all revolve around drinking and bar hopping.  When we land in Los Angeles, I leave the plane with relief and head to the safety of my hotel.  As soon as I check-in, a buff bartender hands me a glass of complimentary wine and brightly informs me that Happy Hour has just kicked off in the lounge.

Cranky and disoriented from my long day of flying, I find it increasingly difficult to deny the magnetic pull that the tacky lounge exudes. I no longer have the strength I did when I began my day—I feel weak and uncertain as I pass the lounge and head upstairs in the elevator. Once I’m safely tucked away in my room, the key to the mini bar key beckons me cruelly.  To avoid tempting fate, I struggle not to open the fridge, only to find a bottle of Merlot prominently placed between the peanut M&M’s and bottled water. How many times in one day do I have to refuse alcohol while I struggle to remain sober?  For a few moments I contemplate.  I remind myself that if you’re trying to curb impulse shopping, you’re supposed to go back and make a few visits over the course of a few days before you make your decision. But how many times does a recovered alcoholic have to “visit” the concept of taking a drink before they are justified in caving in to the urge?

My addict brain wants to scream at every poster and every person who tempted me with a cocktail. I search my mind for some snarky retort to the poor person who innocently offeres me a cocktail. Oftentimes, I think the cards are stacked against me. I get tested over and over again. My next relapse sits patiently waiting for a changing of the guard in my psyche. I berate myself mentally and wonder why I can’t just let it go and get over the controlling voice that keeps urging me me to drink. This is my daily mantra.

For me, staying sober is a daily struggle. My cravings are an ever-present threat that I’m always trying to escape.  As I write this, I close my eyes and taste the warm, full, satiating flavor of a glass of really fine red wine, the soft burn it produces as it slips down my throat, the sweet bouquet that wafts from the glass. And just as quickly as I slip back into my mental love affair with alcohol, I must turn it off and return to my reality.

At tenuous moments like these, I try to remember the disasters that induced me to get sober in the first place. When I finally decided to stop drinking, I was a sad and lonely and desperate person. I was ready to give up.  I have no desire to retreat to that old life. Instead, I  am determined to stay healthy and happy, reconnect with my family and friends, and stop disappointing everyone who cares about me. I try to remember how great it feels to go to bed sober, and to wake up in the morning unabashed and with a clear head. Mornings have always been the best time of the day for me—I have a feeling of strength and growth and gratitude for making it through another day. In fact, a day after my flight, I feel my old self regaining control over the frazzled mess I’d become. I don’t give another thought to alcohol for the rest of my trip.

As I’m constantly reminded, I can only hope for a daily reprieve from this disease. Since nobody can spend their lives free from the lure of alcohol, it’s crucial to build up a core of strength and spirituality that will protect us from life’s inevitable enticements. It’s not always easy, but after some time and practice,  I’ve built up the strength to ignore the mini-bottles of Absolut and the open bars and hotel happy hours. I can fly without getting high. That’s the good news. The bad news is I have to fly to Mexico City next month.

Melissa Burton is the executive director of Loft 107, a sober living center in Brooklyn. This essay originally appeared on The Fix, a website about addiction and recovery.

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By Annabelle Kathryn

“I don’t drink.” It’s a phrase I’ve imagined myself saying for the past two years, especially the morning after a particularly bad night, when I wonder if giving up drinking would ever be something I could actually do. Sometimes, I’d even practice it out loud, trying to get just the right inflection so it conveys just the right combination of aloof nonchalance and hard-earned knowledge. With those few words, I wanted anyone I’d met to know I wasn’t someone who’d never touched alcohol, or had gotten scared straight from just one night spent puking in the communal dorms at college. With that phrase, I wanted people to hear all the inherent subtext: that I wasn’t naïve. I’d had experiences.

But I always just sounded young and dumb, or self-conscious, so I’d shrug and head off to the bar and drink, where I’d usually black out, wonder if I had a problem, practice saying I don’t drink a few times, then start the whole cycle all over again.

It wasn’t until this year that I realized my drinking had moved past “kind of out of control” and towards “seriously fucked up.” I was drinking every night, blacking out at least once a week, and, on a few occasions, sneaking vodka into Sprite at work. And while I tried to justify it by all the mitigating factors that had recently occurred up in my life—in the past six months, I broke up with my boyfriend, had an abortion, sat by my mom’s hospital bed as she died of cancer, and, just two months after that, had to do the same for my grandmother—the fact was, I had a problem.

So I knew that I needed to eventually give up drinking for real, but didn’t feel any impetus from within to stop, which terrified me. If losing my wallet and my shoes and my jewelry and my iPhone all in one night hadn’t stopped me, if spraining my wrist hadn’t stopped me, if having unprotected sex that resulted in an unplanned pregnancy hadn’t stopped me—what would? Every time I’d go out, I’d feel an anticipatory sense of dread. Sometimes I went out almost hoping I’d wake up in a hospital, because then, at least the answer would be obvious.

But I didn’t. And as it was, the night I realized I needed to go to A.A. was pretty tame. I went to a friend’s house and drank a bottle of wine before meeting a guy who I desperately wanted to be my boyfriend for a third date at a bar.

I concentrated on acting sober. But from tripping on the step into the bar to talking too loudly to drinking two and a half vodka sodas before he even finished his first drink, I knew it wasn’t working. I realized he knew I was hammered, but I thought I had a shot with him, especially when he suggested we leave. I assumed that meant he wanted me to come home with him and when he didn’t, saying he had to get up early the next morning, I started sobbing. I felt rejected, alone. Drunk. I cried my way to the subway, took the wrong train and ended up in Queens instead of Brooklyn, where I lived and finally got home at four AM.

The next morning, I woke up, disappointed and exhausted and embarrassed and just done. It wasn’t the specifics so much as the utter, been there done that blaseness I felt from the core of my being. For the first time, I truly realized that this would keep happening and happening and happening unless I did something.

So I decided to go to a meeting, spending more time figuring out what to wear than I usually do when I’m going on a date. I decided I wanted to look very Mary Louise Parker in Weeds—a tough and sexy woman who always ends up in situations just beyond her control. I wore skinny jeans, an oversized white T-shirt with a nautical-striped scarf. Lots of leather bracelets. Leather jacket. Pink sunglasses. Marc Jacobs bag. Extra-large iced latte as a prop. I knew my posturing was both ridiculous and the only thing that would get me out the door.

I chose one that was far away from my neighborhood, arrived 15 minutes early, and froze at the door. I was terrified. I’ve interviewed A-list celebrities, traveled abroad on my own with just a plane ticket and a backpack, and have shown up on strangers doorsteps to exchange sex for coke, but a meeting in a church basement terrified me.

So I left, frantically searching for another meeting on my iPhone. I found one a few blocks down, and the same thing happened. I just couldn’t make myself go in. Which is why finally, on my third try, I ended up at a lesbian, transgender, and bisexual focus meeting. I’m none of those things, but, frustrated with my fear and the fact I’d wasted almost two hours, I forced myself to walk in and sit the fuck down.

And it was fine. It wasn’t earth shattering and it was mostly like how I’d imagined. Some hand-holding. A lot of gratitude. Coffee. I sat in the back and didn’t speak, but did listen.

And then I went to another meeting, and another. And it’s just the first week, only five meetings in—so I know I don’t know anything yet, not really. But the only thing I know is that I’m going to try to keep going—even if at first it takes a few outfit changes to actually get out the door.

This piece originally appeared on The Fix, a website about addiction and recovery. Annabelle Kathryn is the pseudonym for a writer living in New York City.

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A new gene variant that may protect against alcoholism was recently discovered at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill School of Medicine.

The results of the study report that 10 to 20 percent of the population carries a gene variant (called CYP2E1) that makes them get drunk more easily–and therefore makes them less susceptible to alcoholism.

According to an article in USA Today, Dr. Kirk Wilhelmsen, the study’s lead author, explained that the finding, “potentially changes the paradigm about how we think about how alcohol affects the brain.” While the finding doesn’t yet have any treatment application, he says, “my expectation is this is actually going to lead somewhere.”

Wilhelmsen and colleagues collected hundreds of pairs of siblings, all at college-age and all with at least one parent who was an alcoholic. The study participants were given a mixture of grain alcohol and soda that was equivalent to about three drinks that they drank at regular intervals. They were asked to answer questions describing how the alcohol made them feel: “I feel drunk, I don’t feel drunk; I feel sleepy, I don’t feel sleepy.”

The 10 to 20 percent of the population that carry the gene variant typically avoid drinking often or in large quantities because they can’t “hold their liquor.” As a result, they are less likely to become alcoholics in the long run. The new finding offers hope for a treatment of alcoholic if scientists can develop a way to modify the gene or copy its effects.

“We have found a gene that protects against alcoholism, and on top of that, has a very strong effect,” Wilhelmsen said in a statement. “But alcoholism is a very complex disease, and there are lots of complicated reasons why people drink. This may be just one of the reasons.”

The findings are published in the online version of the journal, Alcoholism: Clinical and Experimental Research, and will appear in print in its January 2011 issue.

My mom’s been sober for nearly forty years, without having a relapse (pretty amazing, right?)—but her perfect record is hardly typical.

The old thinking on recovering from an addiction was black and white. Relapse was seen as a catastrophe, according to Kathleen McGowan in her excellent article in Psychology Today, “The New Quitter.”

But there is a new psychology of addiction, according to McGowan—“the abstincence-only doctrines that once dominated the thinking about addiction have given way to a more flexible—and more forgiving—approach.

Why the shift? Studies have shown that relapsing is the rule, not the exception. If you hit a bump in your recovery, you’re not alone. “Up to 80 percent of alcoholics treated for a drinking problem will hit the bottle again at least once.”  The number one predictor of relapse? Emotional stress—anxiety, depression or upset.

So what is the key to surviving relapse(s)?  Look at backsliding as a chance to learn and an opportunity to develop better ways of anticipating, avoiding, or overcoming urges. See lapses as mistakes rather than defeat.

Here are some tips from the Pros:

–Learn to identify the situations that might push you into a relapse. What are your triggers? Meeting up with an old drinking buddy? Going to an office party, where drinking will be involved?

–Make a concrete plan to counteract or avoid the situations that might trigger a relapse.  (Example: Plan your route so you won’t pass your favorite wine store, if that’s a trigger).

–Use a cognitive trick called “urge surfing”—mentally detach yourself from the craving by monitoring the way your desire builds and then recedes. Visualize your craving as a wave that rises and falls. Imagine riding the wave, rather than struggling against it.

–Cultivate a vivid memory of the past you are trying to leave behind.

–Develop meaningful life goals, which may have been forgotten or cast aside in the throes of addiction.

–Reconnect with things that give you pleasure, enjoyment, and meaning (Taking walks, taking a bath, whatever floats your boat).

–If you are in the throes of a life-threatening or mind-altering addiction, get professional help to understand your triggers and come up with a plan.

Most importantly, do something. According to McGowan, “People who use some kind of coping technique are 25 times more likely to resist the temptation than those who try to just gut it out.”

And finally: Give yourself a break. Recognize that “the work of kicking an addiction may never be fully complete.” The new thinking is that addiction is a chronic disease that can never be fully cured. Celebrate every day you keep yourself sober after a relapse. Little successes lead to big success.

“One Step at a Time” is a series of original essays we will be running monthly. We are excited to have writer and mom Patty N. share her fresh perspective as she embarks on the road to sobriety.

STEP FOUR

by Patty N.

The Fourth Step – a searching and fearless moral inventory – is not so much a step as it is a personal fact-finding mission, a sort of self-guided tour of the past designed to help us figure out why we drank.  Just after my 90^th day of sobriety, a clue appeared in my Inbox.

Doug Harrison* wants to be friends on Facebook.

I clicked on the link expecting to see the freckle-faced boy I knew in high school. Instead, a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and a face I no longer recognized greeted me. But just seeing his name  – Doug Harrison – sent me right back to the summer of 1981.

I was fifteen years old, heading into my junior year of high school and had absolutely nothing to do – no job, no camp, no family vacation, no responsibilities. Bored and a little lonely, I spent my days at the country club pool where my best friend, Amy, was a life guard. Doug, also fifteen, worked at the club as a golf caddy, and he would come swimming every day after work. One evening, he showed up with two cans of Budweiser for the three of us to share.  I hated the taste, but I loved the buzz. That was my first drink.

Soon after, Doug invited me to go tubing down the Truckee River with his brother, Steve – a senior – and a group of his friends.

“Are you kidding me?” I asked. Steve Harrison was the most popular guy in high school. He was the star of the basketball team, dated the head cheerleader and drove a brand new Camaro Z-28.

“Steve told me I could bring a friend,” Doug said. “And I want to bring you.”

A couple days later, Steve’s Camaro roared into my driveway.

I can’t believe I’m in Steve Harrison’s car, I thought. It smelled like new leather and Coppertone. Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing” blared from the cassette deck.  Steve’s blue eyes met mine in the rear view mirror.

“Welcome aboard,” Steve said. “Do you know Deb?”  He nodded toward his tan, buxom girlfriend, who was dressed in a bikini top and cut-off shorts.

Of course I knew Deb. Everyone knew Deb. But she had no reason to know a geek like me.

“Hi,” she said, flashing her bright white homecoming queen smile.

“Hey,” I said, flashing my mouthful of metal. I self-consciously crossed my arms over my flat chest.

As we drove toward Truckee, Steve tossed two Mickey’s Big Mouths into the back seat. I studied Deb, her polished toes resting on the dashboard, as she effortlessly drank her beer. When I took a sip of mine, I actually gagged a little. Beer tasted bad enough and this cheap malt liquor was even worse. But I forced it down anyway.

I was definitely lit when we got to the river and, by the time we finished tubing, I’d had at least two more Big Mouths and a bag of green grapes. I stumbled into the back seat of Steve’s car.  Everything was spinning. Then, knowing I’d never make it to the bathroom, I leaned out the window and vomited on the door of the Z-28 in front of Steve, Doug, Deb and all of their friends.

They all started laughing and chanting, “Grapes! Grapes! Grapes!”  That’s the last thing I remember before I passed out.

I woke up just as Steve was pulling into my driveway. My head was pounding and I felt so humiliated that I’d thrown up in front of the popular kids – and on Steve’s car!

What if my stomach acid ruined his paint job – I’ll never be able to go back to school, I thought.

“Sorry I got sick,” I said, unable to make eye contact.

“Hey, that’s okay,” Steve said. “It was pretty funny.”

“Yeah,” Doug said, “It was fun.”

My mom was in the kitchen when I went inside.

“How was it?” she asked.

“It was fun,” I said.  “It was really fun.”

The next day at the pool, Steve and Doug cheered, “Grapes, grapes, grapes” when they saw me.  I was still a little embarrassed, but I loved the attention.

“Wow,” Amy said, “It sounds like you had a good time.”

My definition of fun became distorted that day on the Truckee River and, as I dig deeper into this personal excavation that is the Fourth Step, I’m able to see how often I confused self-destructive and even dangerous drinking with fun. Being the center of attention, making people laugh, and joking my way out of uncomfortable feelings – all of these became staples of my drinking life for the next 30 years. I denied my disease and dismissed my behavior, choosing to believe I was just a fun drunk. But nobody goes to A.A. because they’re having fun; we go because we can’t pretend anymore.

Doug Harrison wants to be friends on Facebook. CONFIRM or IGNORE.

I wanted to just click IGNORE and get rid of that thumbnail sized reminder of my embarrassing summer of ‘81.  But A.A. promises that if we thoroughly follow each Step, “we will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it.” Or in my case, throw up on it.  I knew what I had to do – I had to click CONFIRM.

*Names has been changed.

To read Patty’s earlier entries on Drinking Diaries, click here.

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Yesterday, HealthNewsDigest.com announced that the National Institute on Drug Abuse and the National Institutes of Health Office of Research on Women’s Health will fund a new five-year study focusing on addictive behaviors in women involving tobacco, alcohol, illicit drugs and overeating.

The $2.5 million faculty-training grant awarded to Yale University researchers in the Department of Psychiatry will involve training scholars to conduct interdisciplinary research on addictive behaviors in women, as well as explore potentially new gender-specific prevention and treatment strategies.

“The stark reality is that addictive behaviors in women currently rank among our most prevalent health concerns; disorders involving these behaviors are linked to some of the top causes of mortality and preventable disease,” said Carolyn M. Mazure, the study’s principal investigator, a professor of psychiatry and psychology and director of Women’s Health Research at Yale. “Our unique training program fills a great need for new researchers who can bridge many areas to fully understand addictive behaviors in women.”

The ultimate goal, says Mazure, is to enable scientists to continue making contributions to the prevention and treatment of addiction, concluding in direct benefit for women and their families. Amen to that.

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“One Step at a Time” is a series of original essays we will be running monthly. We are excited to have writer and mom Patty N. share her fresh perspective as she embarks on the road to sobriety.

STEP THREE

by Patty N.

In the spring of 1996, I converted to Judaism. A week before I officially joined the tribe, I wrote in my journal: “My conversion marks the beginning of a spiritual journey – not the end.”

Fourteen years later, my journey derailed. I hadn’t completely skidded off the track, but I was certainly heading in the wrong direction – away from humility and toward self-centeredness. My feet were no longer firmly planted on the ground; they were teetering four inches above it in $1,200 Alaia platforms.

Since I’d converted to Judaism, I had maintained a solid marriage, given birth to two beautiful daughters, bought a big apartment in the city, and, after several years as a stay-at-home mom, landed a full-time position at a fashion magazine. I became too busy to light Shabbat candles on Friday night; I felt too tired to go to services during the High Holidays; I didn’t have to teach the girls about religion – they went to Hebrew School.

I was slowly and subtly disconnecting from God. Instead of being grateful for my blessings, I was cocky. I believed that all this good fortune was the result of my hard work, my smart choices, my drive, my determination. And I deserved to be rewarded — with luxurious cosmetics, designer clothing, expensive haircuts and, of course, alcohol– the good stuff – Veuve Cliquot champagne, Patron margaritas, Ketel One Cosmopolitans, imported dinner wines and Grand Marnier with dessert. I didn’t need a Higher Power – I had the power and I was going to use it.  And, ultimately, abuse it.

The boozing got me into A.A.  And A.A., specifically the Third Step – the decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God– got me back on a spiritual path. Down in the church basement, I stripped away my protective coating: the clothes, the make-up, the lies, and the alcohol. Over the years, I had piled on these layers to make sure nobody saw the pain I was wearing underneath all that armor. But to get – and stay – sober, I had to expose myself and let others see me emotionally naked, powerless and vulnerable.

The process reminded me of when I converted to Judaism. I had gone to the Mikvah, the ritual immersion bath, where I literally shed my clothes – and my past – and humbly asked for guidance in my new life as a Jew. Now I was again in need of spiritual cleansing and decided to revisit the Mikvah as the Third Step in my recovery.

I was nervous when I arrived at West Side Mikvah, but a friendly older woman in a uniform greeted me warmly and showed me to my private waiting area – a full bathroom with clean white tiles, a plush robe, slippers, a  large shower and a medicine cabinet filled with toiletries. I carefully followed the Mikvah preparation checklist that was posted on the mirror – shower, shave legs, wash hair, clean ears, remove nail polish, clean navel, remove all make up, take out contact lenses and remove wedding band, earrings and other jewelry. I put on my glasses, robe and disposable slippers and pushed the call button on the wall labeled “Ready for Tevilah (immersion).”

After several minutes, the Mikvah Lady – a fashionably dressed redhead in her mid-30s – knocked on the door. She asked me to follow her down the long, narrow brightly-lit hallway to a small, windowless room at the end. She gently inspected my hands and feet and noticed a speck of red polish on the inside edge of my big toe.

“Here, I’ll get it,” she said, kneeling down with a cotton ball and polish remover to wipe the last of the lacquer off my nail.

Finally, I was ready for immersion. The Mikvah Lady helped me step into the square pool. I dunked under the lukewarm water, came up and recited aloud the blessing for immersion in Hebrew. I dunked again and when I resurfaced, I stayed still for a moment, truly grateful that I had returned to this spiritual place as I humbly asked my Higher Power for guidance in my new life of sobriety.

I went home, refreshed and renewed, eager to continue on my journey. But there was one more thing I had to do to keep my feet on the ground. I logged on to eBay and put my sky-high Alaia shoes up for sale.

Read Patty’s first post and second post of this series.

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What’s the best way to tell someone that you suspect they have a drinking problem? What if you’re not sure they have a problem? Maybe you just have a gut feeling—a feeling that they might be hiding the extent of their drinking from you. Is that enough to go on?

I’ve been in the frustrating situation where I’ve confronted someone about their drinking, been shot down, and dropped the whole thing. Then I get that “if only” sinking feeling that I’m not doing enough to help that person—if only I could find the right words, if only I could give them that ah-ha moment. If only–

Here’s a re-creation of a conversation I’ve had:

“I’m worried about your drinking.”

“Why?”

“Well, it’s genetic, and your mother’s an alcoholic, for one.  Every time I’m with you, everything revolves around getting that next drink.”

“Every time you see me, I’m on vacation. Everyone drinks on vacation.”

Good point. Good point. “But you always seem to have a headache the next day, and you’re down for the count, but you still do the same thing, the next time.”

“You and your husband drink.”

“True, but we can take it or leave it.”

“I can stop drinking if I want. I just don’t want to.”

“I was worried because you were drinking during lunch. You had two glasses of wine. I don’t do that.”

Exasperated: “I was on vacation. You’re just paranoid because you’re the daughter of an alcoholic.”

“Okay, maybe I am, but I just have a weird feeling about your drinking. Remember the time you hit your head?”

“You have a weird feeling about everyone’s drinking, and I was upset about something.”

And so on and so on. These conversations can go on forever, circling around and around until you’re sorry you brought it up in the first place.

Then there’s the fear: fear of alienating someone altogether, and then what help will you be? You don’t want to drive the person underground, so they feel they have to hide things from you even more than they already do.

Maybe you have to wait until someone hits rock bottom for an intervention. Or perhaps it’s better to round up a group of that person’s friends and family, and do the intervention in person. But only when you know for sure. Maybe the person is just a heavy drinker. It’s a gray area, because no one wears a sign on their forehead saying, “I’m an alcoholic.”

And what about the Al-Anon credo to “Let go and let God?” There’s the school of thought that says people have to learn from their mistakes, and they have to want to change.

So what’s a person to do? Have you ever been in that situation? If so, how did you handle it, and did your approach work?

Problem or heavy drinkers can possibly stop drinking by behavior modification. Alcoholics, on the other hand, are different. Here are some points, culled from Rebos, at Allexperts.com. These points apply to someone who is actually an alcoholic, and not just a problem drinker.

1)    Stopping drinking is not a matter of willpower. Alcoholism is a disease. Drinking alcoholically is but a symptom of a deeper underlying problem that must be faced up to in order for an alcoholic to recover. For the alcoholic there is no such thing as cutting down, drinking only on weekends, changing what they drink, smoking pot or taking other mind altering drugs or even switching to “near beer” with 0.5% alcohol. For the alcoholic nothing will work short of total and complete abstinence from any thing that contains alcohol or other mind-altering substances (drugs).

2)    Unfortunately, all alcoholics must hit their own bottom before they do anything about stopping (if they ever do). I am sorry to say that hitting a bottom for some many may mean going as low as a person can go…plus six feet! Don’t let her take you there with her. Let her go if you must and get on with your life.

3)    Until she “admits and accepts” that alcohol is causing her problems there is little you can do for her. Even those poor unfortunates who are in shelters “admit” that they are having a problem with drinking, but their “acceptance” to the point of doing something positive about it is what counts. No one can scare an alcoholic into stopping drinking. Cajoling, hand-wringing, threatening, begging and even putting them away against their will, will not get them to stop doing what they have not made up their own mind to do.

4)    An active alcoholic’s choices become limited to: attending a recovery program like AA, or entering an in-patient detoxification clinic that has an after care outpatient program. I personally have never seen an alcoholic stop drinking on willpower alone. The disease (addiction) is too powerful.

The bottom line is—someone has got to want to stop drinking in order for anything to work.

According to new research published online in the journal Addiction, children with a family history of alcoholism prefer intense sweets. In the study, 300 children between the ages of 5 and 12 tasted five levels of sugar in water to determine how much sweetness they liked.

Nearly half (49 percent) of the children studied had a family history of alcoholism. The researchers paid close attention to the sweet preferences of the children with a genetic predisposition to alcoholism, because sweet taste and alcohol activate many of the same reward circuits in the brain.

Children who had both a family history of alcoholism and who reported depressive symptoms liked intense sweetness the most (the equivalent of 14 teaspoons of sugar in a cup of water, and more than twice the level of sweetness in a typical cola).  This was one third more intense than the sweetness level preferred by the other children.

The study’s lead author, Julie A. Mennella, PhD, noted that the findings do not necessarily mean that there is a relationship between early sweet preferences and alcoholism later in life. “At this point, we don’t know whether this higher ‘bliss point’ for sweets is a marker for later alcohol use,” she said.

It would be interesting to combine this study with research on alcoholics and hypoglycemia (low blood sugar). Dr. Douglas M. Baird, director of the Hypoglycemia Support Foundation, says: “I have never, ever seen an alcoholic who wasn’t hypoglycemic. It just doesn’t occur, it’s the same problem.” The question is: Which came first, the alcoholism or the craving for sweets?

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List some words that describe you…

Artist, grandmother, ultra-liberal, health-conscious vegetarian, lover of nature, immigrant.

How old were you when you had your first drink?

I was in my early twenties, I was working as a children’s nurse at a hospital in the city. People smoked and drank. I did it, too.

What was your favorite drink?

I was never really hot for drinking. The only time I liked to drink was when I was on vacation with my girlfriends–we drank a lot of wine and other stuff in Greece and Spain, and I got a taste for it.

Did your parents or siblings drink?

My older brother drank (I am the youngest of 5). My other brother drank only on special occasions. Not my sisters or my mother. In those days (Europe in the 1940s and 50s) it wasn’t fashionable for women to drink. Men and boys drank, but mostly on special occasions, and at dances. I don’t know if my father drank. [He left the family when she was one.]

Was there alcoholism in your family?

According to a family tree that my oldest brother researched and made, one guy a long, long time ago was put in jail for drunken behavior. I have a picture of my father, in a Teetotaler’s Club.

When did your drinking cross a line? Were you aware that you had crossed a line?

In my early 40s. I had been socially drinking before then. I bought a gallon of wine and I drank all day long. I always had liquor in the house, mostly wine–Ernest & Julio Gallo was my favorite–because it was cheaper, and I thought wine wasn’t so bad.

Did anyone notice you were drinking too much?

My husband was nice, but he said things. Some of my friends noticed. Once, on vacation,  [the husband of a friend] said, “You don’t have to drink everything there is.” I guess I drank all the beer in the house. He bawled me out, and it was traumatic.

How was it raising two kids while drinking?

Miraculously, I could function–I don’t remember who made breakfast, or who made the lunches, but I always had dinner on the table.

What was the low point?

We went to Mexico City with our two children and stayed with a friend who had a huge property, like the Garden of Eden, surrounded by a high wall. I got so upset because there was a flood, and I felt like the Garden of Eden was being lost, so I drank myself into oblivion, and ended up in bed. In Mexico, I drank from beginning to end. When we came home, my husband said, “You have to do something about your drinking.” I got scared when he got serious. It’s hard even to think straight when you’re drunk all the time.

How did you get sober?

I was detoxed in a hospital. A lot of people do it themselves. I was in the care of a doctor, and I was in the hospital for at least a week, and then I went to a group for a long time, a therapy group run by this doctor, who was also a psychiatrist and a [recovered] alcoholic. He was the right guy for me. I also went to AA at least twice a week. I made all my friends there. I went to AA for many, many years–20 to 25 years.

Do you have any advice to someone trying to stay sober?

In my case, I had to think about something that could replace the drinking. I was still smoking. Stopping smoking [some years later] was extremely hard.

What helped you the most?

My husband was supportive. He stopped drinking. We had no liquor in the house. If we’d had liquor in the house, I know for sure I couldn’t have made it.

What’s the best part about being sober?

Everything. I was amazed at how I felt in my head. Before, my head felt heavy, like I had cottonballs in it. After I stopped drinking, I got so light; it felt great.

Did you ever have a relapse?

No.

Is there anything you miss about drinking?

Nothing. Sometimes, when I see people drink a little wine for dinner, I wish I could have that, but I put it far away from me. I know it’s untouchable. If I were to start drinking today, I would go back immediately to my dependence.

What’s your view of AA?

It’s great. It saved my life. If I were ever tempted, I’d go back.

Do you have a favorite quote or book or inspiration that has helped you through the years?

When I was in AA, somebody gave me a poem called “Desiderata.” When you drink, you have a lot of self doubt and guilt. It’s a three-fold illness: spiritual, emotional and physical. The poem helped because it says you shouldn’t compare yourself with others, and everybody has a right to be here on earth. Everybody who is born has a right. “The Big Book” from AA and the Twelve Steps helped very much, too. “The Big Book” helps, because it has drinking stories in it.

Recently, there has been a spate of novels, short stories, memoirs and non-fiction books published that touch on the topic of women and alcohol–Here is just a sampling:

MOMMY DOESN’T DRINK HERE ANYMORE by Rachel Brownell (memoir)

IT’S NOT ME, IT’S YOU by Stefanie Wilder-Taylor (personal essays written before the popular blogger/memoirist announced she was quitting drinking)

BLAME by Michelle Huneven (novel)

LIT by Mary Karr (memoir, see excerpt in Drinking Diaries)

“Intervention” a short story in Jill McCorkle’s collection GOING AWAY SHOES

TROUBLE by Kate Christensen (novel w/ lots of unapologetic drinking)

ONCE WAS LOST by Sara Zarr (young adult novel with alcoholic mother)

And for those of you interested in poetry, there’s FLAWED LIGHT: American Women Poets and Alcohol, a non-fiction book about women poets and alcohol.

Some of my personal, perennial favorites:

SMASHED by Koren Zailckas (memoir)

ROSIE by Anne Lamott (novel, featuring a woman struggling with her relationship to alcohol)

AT HOME IN THE WORLD by Joyce Maynard (memoir, & she’s the daughter of an alcoholic)

What are your favorite books that touch on the subject of women and alcohol? Favorite movies? Poems? Please share!

Alcoholics Anonymous used to be the great equalizer: Rich or poor, famous or unknown, everyone was an addict, and everyone sat on the same hard chairs, in the same church basement, drinking the same bad coffee. My mom used to tell me about all the politicians and other muckety-mucks in her Washington-area AA meetings (never naming names, of course, but just mentioning that this or that famous person was there, as if to prove she was in good company). And that was a good thing, especially for celebrities and other narcissists, who needed the humbling.

Then along came fancy rehab centers (yes, there’s always been Betty Ford, but usually after rehab, those people went straight to AA), Celebrity Rehab with Doctor Drew, and now–sober coaches–a sort of first-class airplane ticket to sobriety.

Maybe I’m out of the loop, but I learned about sober coaches for the first time, recently, when I happened to be reading about Brooke Mueller & Charlie Sheen’s early-morning knife fight (yes, I admit, I was kind of fascinated). Since both celebs apparently have a history of alcoholism and addiction, they had their Sober coaches on hand that morning. So what is a sober coach? Basically, it’s a person you pay to help you stay sober, after you leave rehab. Apparently, if you don’t feel like going to AA and hanging around those icky basements, the one-person AA meeting will come to you. How’s that working for you, Charlie Sheen?

For $40-$100 per hour, companies like Sober Champion will appoint someone to be your “sober escort” (to take you from point A to point B, such as on an airplane) or your “sober coach” (your companion for a finite number of hours). If you’re willing to shell out up to $1800 a day, you too can have a “sober companion,” who will go through all your stuff to make sure you’re not hiding booze or drugs, and basically follow you around, coaching you, praying with you, and helping you find ingenious alternatives to boozing (i.e. meditating, taking a bath, exercising). Sorry, but sober coaches are not generally covered by insurance, so you’ll have to shell out all the dough yourself. The maximum suggested time for the 24/7 sober coach is 90 days. Celebrities like Drew Barrymore, Owen Wilson, Robert Downey, Jr., Lindsay Lohan and Mary-Kate Olsen have used sober coaches.

Frankly, not that I’m his mother or anything, but what Charlie Sheen needs is a bad cup of coffee and a basement full of regular people calling him on his shit, not a suck-up sober handler who charges him $650-1800 day. Ditto Lindsay Lohan et al. The cure for narcissism is a dose of reality. One of the most helpful cures for addiction is to find a community of people who can bolster and support you, and who you in turn can bolster and support. Sober coaches offer a community of one–a one-sided arrangement.

I’m sure there are cases where sober coaches have saved peoples’ lives, and that’s nothing to sneeze at. They have testimonials out the wazoo from grateful celebs, I’m sure. But still…

What I don’t get is that AA has always offered sober coaches–for free! They’re called “sponsors,” and they are AA veterans with years of sobriety under their belts. If it’s hard for celebrities to attend public meetings, couldn’t they have celebrity AA meetings or something? And get this–one of the sober coaching companies is called “Hired Power.” A sellout G-d. How ironic.

Move over, men, there’s a new face in drunk driving: the sensible everywoman.

Remember “Friends Don’t Let Friends Drive Drunk?” and how you couldn’t get that phrase out of your head? Well, the Ad Council, along with the U.S. Department of Transportation’s NHTSA (National Highway Traffic Safety Administration), has come up with an equally unforgettable public service announcement: Buzzed Driving is Drunk Driving.

At first glance, the video on You Tube, made to support the latest anti- drunk-driving campaign, looks like business as usual. The camera focuses in on a very drunk blonde, maniacally laughing, clutching her beer bottle.

Then things go all wrong, and she knocks her front teeth out with the beer bottle. Does she get upset? No. As she continues laughing, her missing front teeth prominently displayed, the camera pans over to her friend, who is way more sober, only politely laughing, and is putting on her jacket, ready to leave and, presumably, drive home.

And this is where the twist comes in: Instead of panning back to the smashed woman, the camera pans over to her friend, the sensible-looking brunette (natch), as if to say, Not So Fast! The camera then freezes on the sensible brunette and a voiceover says: Buzzed Driving is Drunk Driving. Sobering? I think so. We can laugh at the overly drunk woman, but the buzzed woman–well, the buzzed woman could be anyone you know. It could be you.

If the slogan, “Buzzed Driving is Drunk Driving,” sounds vaguely familiar, that’s because it is. The PSA, first released in 2005, was originally targeted at men, ages 21-34. So why the re-release? And why the focus on women, not men? According to the NHTSA, the number of women DUIs rose 30% in the 10 years between 1998 and 2007, while DUIs by men went down.

Television spots are set to air just in time for the winter holidays, but the Ad Council is also betting on social media sites, like Facebook, to spread the message. A visit to the site’s fan page, Buzzed Driving is Drunk Driving, turned up 574 fans. The Twitter page has 552 and counting. So far, the You Tube video (described above) has had over 10,000 hits. And there are other videos on You Tube as well.