At my fourth rehab (which luckily I’m still sober after, more than five years on), I realised exactly what the fuck was going on. Having been raised by a narcissist mother (also a Christian fundamentalist), no ‘program’ emphasising surrendering of power I never fucking had in the first place - to a “God” who’d never protected me from abuse, and inexorably intertwined with patriarchal oppression - was ever going to help me. I’ve pissed a lot of people off by honestly describing how AA made my addiction worse - radical honesty in action, actually - and live by the framed words of Angela Davis on my wall: “I'm no longer accepting the things I cannot change. I'm changing the things I cannot accept". Recovery without agency and empowerment is no recovery at all.
Oh the details. Red light = brothel took me back and Hanoi Rocks was Taxi Driver for me, and my god but what a beautiful man.
A beautiful piece of writing, easily relatable but memorable too. Helping others is ultimately the best way to help ourselves I think, especially if ones own redemption is needed.
I shall check out your books as a matter of urgency.
Ordered both the books you mentioned. As someone interested in porn and the society shaping psychology of it, really looking forward to that one especially.
My daughter is in the place you so vividly describe. She’s 30 and moved back into my tiny house with me a year ago, after her previous life collapsed (I’m 67). The orderly, creative life I’d envisaged has collapsed into a kind of hell, with occasional weeks of respite. I’ll subscribe and look forward to more insight…
I’m so sorry to hear that, Robert, it sounds incredibly difficult for you both. At the risk of sounding crass, my book, Woman of Substances might help her. I interviewed a lot of clinicians and researchers about women and substance use. Your local library in the UK should be able to order it in for free.
Whilst it wasn’t the central point of this article… the recollection of the red bedroom lightbulb catapulted me to my own teenage days (very much of the same era & complete with the same compulsions…). My mum never mentioned it made my room look like a brothel… but a neighbourhood kid did 😬
At least no one messed with my Hanoi Rocks records. Podcast (and your book!) added to the list… 👏🏽
At my fourth rehab (which luckily I’m still sober after, more than five years on), I realised exactly what the fuck was going on. Having been raised by a narcissist mother (also a Christian fundamentalist), no ‘program’ emphasising surrendering of power I never fucking had in the first place - to a “God” who’d never protected me from abuse, and inexorably intertwined with patriarchal oppression - was ever going to help me. I’ve pissed a lot of people off by honestly describing how AA made my addiction worse - radical honesty in action, actually - and live by the framed words of Angela Davis on my wall: “I'm no longer accepting the things I cannot change. I'm changing the things I cannot accept". Recovery without agency and empowerment is no recovery at all.
Congratulations on five years!! That Angela Davis quote is perfect.
The ‘heroin’ bath salts breaks my heart
It even had a Father Christmas sticker on it!
Totally suss!
Oh the details. Red light = brothel took me back and Hanoi Rocks was Taxi Driver for me, and my god but what a beautiful man.
A beautiful piece of writing, easily relatable but memorable too. Helping others is ultimately the best way to help ourselves I think, especially if ones own redemption is needed.
I shall check out your books as a matter of urgency.
That's lovely, thank you! Ah, Hanoi Rocks... a criminally underrated band.
Ordered both the books you mentioned. As someone interested in porn and the society shaping psychology of it, really looking forward to that one especially.
Thank you - I'm honoured!
Dead by Xmas!
Still think it's a corker of a song.
Self Destruction Blues is a masterpiece! I was really surprised to find Hanoi in the middle of your story, and instantly felt a connection with you...
My daughter is in the place you so vividly describe. She’s 30 and moved back into my tiny house with me a year ago, after her previous life collapsed (I’m 67). The orderly, creative life I’d envisaged has collapsed into a kind of hell, with occasional weeks of respite. I’ll subscribe and look forward to more insight…
I’m so sorry to hear that, Robert, it sounds incredibly difficult for you both. At the risk of sounding crass, my book, Woman of Substances might help her. I interviewed a lot of clinicians and researchers about women and substance use. Your local library in the UK should be able to order it in for free.
Ordered!
Aw, I hope it helps a little!
She was really pleased that I’d got it for her, and started reading it straight away x
Result! Glad to hear it was received in that spirit.
Whilst it wasn’t the central point of this article… the recollection of the red bedroom lightbulb catapulted me to my own teenage days (very much of the same era & complete with the same compulsions…). My mum never mentioned it made my room look like a brothel… but a neighbourhood kid did 😬
At least no one messed with my Hanoi Rocks records. Podcast (and your book!) added to the list… 👏🏽
It was the wrong era for us to protest the benefits of 'red light therapy', alas!