I Call it “Carolina Sober”
Being a sober addict has innumerable benefits, but they come with a decent number of disadvantages. Even more confusing are the aspects to sobriety that are both a benefit and a disadvantage at the same time. A good example would be our constantly evolving perspective, especially in early sobriety. It’s been a solid 18 months since my brain was last clouded by booze, and I still get whiplash from how quickly I go from knowing that I am right about something, to realizing I am entirely wrong about that something. In a brief description, that sounds like an entirely terrible facet to my character, but it’s a positive development. I do have principles and firm convictions. I pray to the Gods of varied perspective and acquired information. I adjust my beliefs accordingly, in small to medium size doses. Most importantly, when I’m wrong, I know how to accept and verbalize, “I was wrong.” That’s a big deal for any human, especially an addict.
Another simultaneous pro/con of sobriety is the network and its icons. For every 20 people that show up to a local AA meeting with regularity, I can find… one…? …0.5…? to admire. Mathematically, it doesn’t sound great, but when you factor in the nuances of addiction and how many alcoholics get sober, stay sober, do both/either with grace, and have legitimately good character otherwise, those are swell numbers. If we broaden our pool of admirable addicts to include people we will never see at a meeting and will likely never see in person, there are hundreds of sober celebrities to acknowledge.
When I was first on the hunt for like-minded individuals that I could attach myself to, I found it frustrating that so few sober celebrities talk openly and proudly about their sobriety. It felt like a slight to the poor, unknown sober people (aka me.) Addiction is complex, devastating, weakly explained and widely underrepresented in regard to what and who it affects. Yet, these hoards of famous people have albums, talk show interviews, autobiographies, podcasts, and magazine articles that could all be a platform to warn and defend the thorny mechanics of drug and alcohol dependence. So, why aren’t they exploiting themselves for this—their personal cause?! Because. They aren’t stupid.
We can simplify one important point upfront: no one, especially people who employ publicists, want to scream to the world, “I am an addict!” Celebrities only admit to that trouble when they are trying to detract from bigger trouble. “I have been struggling for years with substance abuse and I am willingly checking myself into treatment,” sounds way better than, “I accidentally killed a hooker and I’m going to sober-up in New Mexico because my attorney said I had to before we go in front of the judge again.”
The situation isn’t always as dire as manslaughter, but when your career is steam-powered by public approval, you never want to hand over reasons for people to disapprove. Addiction, for good reason, comes with some shitty connotation. If you admit to being an addict, you are also admitting that you are a liar. You are weak. You are selfish. You are corrupt. You are shameless. You are impulsive. You are careless. You are all of these things because you were all of these things in active addiction and you haven’t spent enough time steering your ship in the right direction.
Vagary is a bold, but solid move for celebrities. I know what active addiction looks like. I know what early sobriety, failed sobriety, second sobriety, relapse, and third sobriety look like and it ain’t even pretty, let alone glamorous. For some of our most beloved and talented artists, they didn’t stand a chance against the mandatory drinking and drugging that came with the lifestyle, and they slipped right down the well. The world didn’t need to see Elton John, Eric Clapton and Joe Walsh at their most pathetic. What good would that have done? The world does need to see them now; still standing, still successful, still so talented that you have to wonder if Gods plays favorites… If you ask, they’ll tell you. Otherwise, they let their sobriety fall gently, like snow, on the other aspects of their life and fame. Which is why I look back on my former opinion of, “they should be saying more about this!” and I now say, “nevermind. I was wrong.”
On the flip side, there are some “sober” celebrities who do use their platform to talk about addiction and they cannot and will not Shut. The. Fuck. Up. And they need to, immediately, because people are listening to their malarkey, and it is not a good situation. Of course, I’m talking about Demi Lovato. I respect her for shedding light on the intricacies of addiction but preaching her bizarre and unregulated brand of “sobriety” is reckless. Lovato calls her method “California Sober.” Which, apparently, means that she can drink alcohol and smoke weed, as long as she stays away from the hard stuff.
Fine. That’s fine.
I mean, she’s clearly not fine, but do what you gotta do to stay away from Fentanyl. I am not going to repudiate her existence or her recovery, unlike other dissenters, because its hateful and because I would be a hypocrite. Every addict placates themselves with something, be it coffee and chain smoking, Skittles and Mountain Dew, or sex with inappropriate people at inappropriate moments in very inappropriate places (two addicts need a distraction, those addicts probably meet at AA, AA mostly takes place in churches… connect the dots.)
My issue is that Lovato advertises “California Sober” as if it’s a workable method for most people, when we absolutely know it isn’t. Even Elton John called her out on her bullshit in her own documentary. You cannot tell struggling addicts to just latch on to a different addiction. Because they will. It is irresponsible to tell a vulnerable drug user to get drunk instead of getting high and call the problem “solved.” Nothing is solved. It’s all a distraction and a numbing from the issues they need to be focusing on in order to get clean and get on with their lives.
As I said earlier, I labored to find like-minded people to admire. I got lucky and I managed to find two: Karen Kilgariff and John Mulaney. With a huge selection of celebrities with substance abuse problems, I favored these two because they reminded me of me. They use humor as a defense mechanism, they suffer from constant anxiety, social or otherwise, and they’ve both managed to thrive and be entirely themselves without the false comfort and liberation of booze. Are they perfect? No. Are they human? Yes. Are they sober in an achievable way? Also, yes. Or they were, until recently.
Its hurts to be let down by a hero. It hurts to be let down repeatedly by an addict. It hurts so much worse than I thought it would to be let down by your addict hero. Karen Kilgariff, as far as I know, is doing just fine. I listen to both of her podcasts every week just to make sure. John Mulaney, however, just managed to break my heart from at least six degrees of separation.
I read an article on Buzzfeed the other night titled, “John Mulaney Owes You Nothing.” I read it. I read it again. I almost threw my phone against the wall. In synopsis, the author basically stated that we (his audience) do not get to have an opinion on his personal life. He promised us jokes, he gave us jokes, end of transaction. We should not be mad about his relapse, we should not judge him for his substance abuse issues, we should not criticize his process of talking about his addiction with a combination of humor and sincerity. She would be correct in that regard. But she does not understand my problem with the guy, or the problem he poses to other, equal, addicts.
Months ago, I saw a snippet online about Mulaney checking into a treatment center for 60 days. I didn’t judge him at all. Why would I? He never fixated on it, but he did talk in his stand-up and in interviews about his drinking and drug use in the past. He explained that he had to stop drinking all together because moderation was not his jive (bruh, same) and he’d been sober for a number of years. So, when I read about his relapse and subsequent seeking of treatment, I had two distinct thoughts very close together: “I hate that it happened… my heart goes out to him and his family.” Secondly, “he kicked the habit once, he’ll kick it again. He’s got this.” I sent genuine empathy and empowerment through the ether to a man I only know from the television. I believe that is the opposite of judgement, thank you very much, Buzzfeed.
I kept the calendar in my peripheral vision and I actually looked forward to a tweet, or a press statement, or an Instagram photo of him with his wife, and his dog. More than 60 days came and went without any word and I didn’t fret, because I assumed he was taking it easy, readjusting, working on reparations in his personal life. Of course. That’s what an eager, healthy, sane addict would do in early sobriety. Then the facts started rolling in like a Spanish armada on shores already occupied by indigenous peoples.
The first article I saw featured a statement from Mulaney’s wife, confirming that they were separated. She said she was “heartbroken” by “his decision” to divorce her. I didn’t care for that narrative. Then there were speculations that he was dating Olivia Munn. That couldn’t be because she’s gorgeous and he’s an awkward addict comedian. Also, he’s not an asshole, and going public with a new bombshell girlfriend minutes after leaving your wife is something only an asshole would do. Then there were pictures. Then there was the interview where he confirmed it and said that Munn “saved him.” Then there was a baby.
I flipped a table.
I would be open to listening to a more thorough explanation, if he ever decides to give one, in whatever public forum. Part of me is genuinely hoping that he’s hiding some bizarre extenuating circumstances that can justify even half of the shit he’s just pulled. For now, I want to throttle him. No, I don’t know the man. Yes, my investment and reaction to this whole situation is futile. No, John Mulaney does not owe me anything. So, why do I feel like he’s taken something from me?
This is precisely why the sober celebrities I admire don’t use their platform. They are admirable because they aren’t arrogant. Only the arrogant will get on a stage and brag about the ways that they are battling addiction. There is no room for arrogance in sobriety. None. I have said it a hundred times, but I can never say it enough, so, I say again—addiction, at its core, is not about using drugs or alcohol. The drinking and the drugging are coping mechanisms for larger issues. To effectively fight addiction, your behavior has to change. Your thoughts have to change. John Mulaney and Demi Lovato didn’t change their thoughts or their behaviors. They just changed their drug.
Half of my anger toward these two individuals comes from a logical, unselfish place. On the one hand, I am livid because it’s dangerous and pompous to send a message to addicts and alcoholics that they can get away from one drug easily by doing the opposite drug or forget about drugs all together by fucking and falling in love with hot-chick-not-your-wife.
The other half of my anger comes from a selfish, illogical place. That joke-telling, privileged, falsely approachable, Ivy League, coke-snorting, liquor-glugging PRICK just got on Late Night with Seth Meyers an undid all of MY hard work! Yes, mine, and the work of every other addict busting their ass to regain an ounce of credibility. John Mulaney is not a woman, he is not a person of color, he is not a member of the LGBTQ+ community, which means that he actually had a shot at coming out on the other side of addiction and being taken seriously as a human being. He blew it. Immediately. Not by drinking, not by using, but by committing the worst infraction an addict can: behaving like just as much of an asshole sober as he did when he was high.
I am being harsh but it’s a harsh world. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe his story makes perfect sense. Maybe his wife was a terrible person and she was the one shoving his face to the mirror every night. Maybe he’ll never leer at a bottle or a line again and die sober, decades from now. Maybe he’s found his one true love and he feels terrible about the timing and that he’s destroyed the woman he married, but this is meant to be, and he has to follow his heart. Maybe this new woman and their pending baby really were his saving grace and being a father will make him a better man. Maybe.
The thing about addicts is… you shouldn’t trust them. They aren’t trustworthy. Not after 30 days, not after 60 days, not after 120 days. We put a lot of emphasis on that one-year mark because it’s a statistical safety zone, but even then, trust but verify. I guess non-addicts think that we don’t realize how hurtful and predictably unpredictable addicts can be because we are addicts and we’re biased. Nah. We know. If you think that its painful to be conned by an addict that you love and not be able to understand why they are they way that they are… trust me, it hurts worse to be conned by an addict you love when you understand completely why they are the way that they are. It’s the ultimate betrayal.
I hope someday I get a reason to change my opinion about my former favorite comedian, but I’m not curtailing my other beliefs for him. He isn’t trustworthy. His behavior is impulsive, insatiable, supercilious, and someone who can be described that way is more suited to cradling a crack-pipe than a baby. Harsh. Again, I know. His story should have been a happy one. It could have been a happy one. All he had to do was clean up a few messes before pulling out his new toys to play with. Now, I’ll be damned if this has a happy ending. Worst of all, when it implodes with him in the spotlight, we all will be held to the standard that the world happened to see: a drug addict who used his platform to show that drug addicts ruin lives and only get sober to ruin more lives with better aim.
