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Archives for August, 2011

Dual-Diagnosis

I Drank. I Recovered. I Fear My Bipolar

Last Saturday I celebrated 13 years of sobriety. Whodathot? Thirteen years. It sounds strange coming out of my mouth. Thirteen years.

I don't miss alcohol or drugs. I don't even think about alcohol or drugs anymore. I don't miss the taste. I don't miss cooking without it. And I definitely don't miss the hangovers. Just conjuring up the memory of a hangover is enough to keep me sober.

I drank a lot. I drank wine, beer, vodka...
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Coping with Depression

My Depression and Our Pursuit of Happiness

My mother was not a particularly happy person. She worked very, very hard. She was a devoted mother, dutiful wife and she fulfilled her responsibilities in a state of resignation.

I am not a doctor but I believe she suffered from dysthymia - chronic, low-grade depression. Just before she died, during one of our many conversations in her room at hospice she said something that guides my life: "I just wanted...
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Alcoholism

The Secret Lives of Recovered, Dual-Diagnosed Alcoholics

Recovered alcoholics have two birthdays. Our belly-button birthday - the day we took our first breath - and our sober birthday - the day we took our last drink. We get presents for both.

I'm telling you this not because my sober birthday is coming up - August 27 is 13 years without a drink - but because we live a life divided. Our sobriety has given us a new life but it comes with price....
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Coping with Depression

It Took More Than a Prescription and a Glass of Water to Swallow My Antidepressants

I had a hard time taking off my cape, cuffs and boots. I believed I was Wonder Woman and I was going to pull myself up by my bootstraps and out of this depression, dammit. I didn't need no stinkin' help.  But things got worse. I stopped eating. I couldn't work. I slept and slept and slept or struggled with insomnia. My thoughts raced. I looked like hell. But dammit, I was going to lick...
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