I recently proposed the following titles to my editor… She covered up all of her enthusiasm with a properly removed attitude. I’m confident she’s hiding her true feelings so as not to activate the other recovery authors’ jealousy.
1. The Tao of An*l Sex (edited for the children)
2. The Way of the Violent Woman
3. Bad in Bed: An S/A Recovery Manifesto
4. How My Publisher Got Me Laid: The Untold Story
5. Is It Ok If I Hate You? Finding the Words to Capture Your Contempt
Today at the meeting, people were talking about individual beliefs about God and Higher Power.. I’ve skirted the God thing thus far, but no more. Last week’s assignment: to make a list of qualities my God would have, if I had the power to design Him/Her.
To wit:
* approachable
* funny
* warm
* nonjudgmental
* easy-going
* swears
* appreciates dark humor
Prior to recovery, I doubt I would have believed that such a “create your own God” system would work… but if everyone I’ve met is to be believed, it does.
If there is some higher spiritual order to be found in accepting the destructive power of children in a home, when the adult present has recused herself from cleaning — giving herself a few days off — a blackbelt in watching a home get dirtier.. then I have one.
My therapist told me to practice doing nothing so I am. Doing. Nothing. Nothing about the mess, the dishes, the food, the floors, the living room… I’m doing other things instead. Things about books and writing, and girlfriends, and spiritual growth.
My hesitance to take on the dual role of writer and promoter is no match for the peanut gallery in my life who encourage me to view the book as a project in need of delivery, petty fears and insecurities notwithstanding.
So this little site will soon shift to become a launching pad.. a nest for the bird of a book to take flight (with or without the perfect lipstick and shoes).
A small thing to be away for a few days and take great delight in throwing together a nice chicken dinner for the kids (who hate it anyway) and cleaning the house (even though it will get dirty again). It is a small thing to stop while swinging one’s daughters to observe them in a split second, growing up before your eyes. Laughing, heads back, innocent and open.
I celebrated 18 months of sobriety today. I am at home in the world.
Brownell, Rachael. Mommy Doesn’t Drink Here Anymore: Getting Through the First Year of Sobriety. Conari: Red Wheel/Weiser. Aug. 2009. c.176p. illus. ISBN 978-1-57324-409-1. pap. $14.95. PSYCH
Brownell is a frequent contributor to various online parenting spaces, including The Imperfect Parent (www.imperfectparent.com), Babble.com, and Yahoo’s Shine site (shine.yahoo.com). In this frank memoir, she journals her slide into alcoholism and her first year of recovery. She details in a conversational voice how her postpartum depression and the stresses of mothering three children, all under five years old, triggered her gradual dependence on multiple glasses of white wine. Her participation in social “cocktail playdate” groups for mommies with young children deepened the problem. Brownell doesn’t pull any punches about the ugly side of her addiction, and her first year of sobriety is fraught with times where she felt lost, as if she were hanging on only by her fingernails, and overwhelmed by life without alcohol to help buffer it.
VERDICT Brownell has an easy, readable style and a simple message. There is no glowing happy ending, just the reality that life must be faced one day at a time. This work will appeal to readers who like memoirs about ordinary people overcoming difficult life problems; individuals who find 12-step and recovery literature helpful will also be interested in this personal journey.—Crystal Renfro, Georgia Inst. of Technology, Atlanta
I’m sitting amidst gales of laughter as the girls do their part to bring the words “comfortable” + “naked” to happy agreement. Thus far, in my shepherding, I’ve encouraged using real words for body parts, discussing openly why this works this way and that works that. I’ve worked on being accepting of hearing “vagina” more in one day than some do in a lifetime. To them it is like the weather: regular, normal, and occasionally requiring in-depth discussion.Â
Insert the obvious stories about embarrassingly loud remarks in public places, vociferous apologies to our (proper) babysitter when Violet taught her daughter the joys of the word “butt,” and you have the picture.
This joy in nakedness is pure and silly and mostly amazingly good (though I can’t help wishing I were raising them in a safer, simpler time).
And then I imagine Marlo Thomas and the whole crew of “Free to Be You and Me” are here with us, in spirit, laughing and clapping and singing along.
I’m sure that in these moments live caution and surrender – innocence and joy. A small message from God: Be happy. Be free.
