My Clean Slate

02/09/2026

https://www.facebook.com/share/p/16qGuLuaeA/

“January 2016, a decade ago this week, was the last time I drank. Not that I knew it was the last drink at the time. “Never again” was as much part of my vocabulary as “shall we get another?” (a rhetorical question). I didn’t really mean to stop drinking and taking drugs, mostly because I didn’t think I could. Getting wasted, blacking out, tears, tumbles, unexplained bruises, strangers’ kitchen tables at dawn: it wasn’t just what I did – it was who I was.

Until it wasn’t. That January I finally hit my “rock bottom”, which didn’t look that much different to the hundreds of other rock bottoms that had come before. Something about this time, however, shocked, scared and plainly bored me into action. With the help of some good, generous, patient people I started over and began my sobriety journey.

That is where the story normally stops getting told. I was Bad and now I am Good. Chaos replaced with order, darkness with light, ci******es with green juice. It’s an uplifting tale with a tidy resolution, a satisfying narrative arc with an inspirational message to take home. Look, everything worked out! Roll credits. The End.

Except, it wasn’t. It was just the beginning; at least of a more nuanced, but I think ultimately more nourishing and rewarding, story. We say (I say!) “I got sober” as if it is something to be ticked off and acquired. But recovery is an ongoing process.

Rather than calcifying over time, it reveals itself to be fluid.

Sometimes I have to clench my sobriety tightly, as if I might lose it; mostly I can wear it as lightly as a tissue-fine silk scarf.

Reasons to drink, I have found, are always there. Sometimes those reasons are big and important (grief, for instance, who could blame me?) and sometimes they are quotidian and silly (like, orange wine is a thing now… Should I?).

To date, I haven’t acted on those thoughts, but I’d be lying if I said they don’t flutter in and sometimes stay a beat longer than is comfortable. I hope that drink a decade ago was my final one. I believe it will be. But I am smart enough to accept that I don’t know it to be.

Turns Out Sobriety Is sexy.

Part of the process of recovery, for many, are relapses (in the last 10 years that has not been me, but there were many false starts before).

But they don’t play into that Happily Ever Sober… narrative so we ignore them, dismiss that person as weak or not ready. Shame, fear, disappointment, embarrassment – there are many reasons we don’t talk about relapsing.

But an emboldening transparency around the struggles of sobriety is emerging. Last week the actor Natasha Lyonne wrote on X: “Took my relapse public more to come” later adding, “Recovery is a lifelong process. Anyone out there struggling, remember you’re not alone […] Stay honest, folks. Sick as our secrets. If no one told ya today, I love you.”

Later in the week, Chrissy Teigen posted that she was 52 days sober after a relapsing. “After being sober for a little over a year, I went back to drinking. I promised myself it would be in a ‘mindful’ way,” she wrote on Instagram, explaining how steadily her consumption escalated. “We aren’t talking the kind of drinking where you slur your words and miss a step on the stairs. It was just quiet and consistent. And god, I felt like sh*t.”

Like any of us, Lyonne and Teigen owe nobody explanations about their experiences. Nevertheless, it takes guts to make such public admissions and their generosity in sharing will no doubt help many others; these women who outwardly “have it all” can struggle too. There is something comforting about that.

Of course, life is always messier from the inside.

Had you asked me a decade ago to imagine a future sober me, I would have laughed at the improbability. Pushed, I would have assumed that woman was smug, contained, beatific, calm, with glossy hair and a wardrobe of biscuity neutrals. Perfect. I would have been surprised, disappointed probably, to learn how noisy and scrappy a sober life can still be.

That’s not to say that it hasn’t brought me enormous peace, but simply that I was shocked how when you take away the substance, the addiction is still there.

There was a reason why you drank or used in that way, and that doesn’t vanish. Drink softens the sharp, spiky edges of life, which can be agony to do without that anaesthetic. For the addict, [insert substance] held your hand long before it punched you in the face.

It’s something Paris Jackson, another celebrity who has been candid about sobriety, has talked about. “Getting sober ain’t always the indication that life is perfect,” she wrote on Instagram. “A few years in it all got very very hard. for what felt like an eternity. and I didn’t have the same survival skills I was used to having to cope. I had to learn to live life on life’s terms.”

Learning to “live life on life’s terms” – knowing when to fight and when to accept – is the great human struggle, whether you’re an addict or not.

I have often interrogated why I drank and used in the way I did, and the answer remains frustratingly opaque. The simplest terms I can put it in is that I always felt an acute discomfort in being Laura, simultaneously always too much and never enough. I feel things deeply and sometimes it is as if there is not enough of me to contain that emotion.

And, yeah, sometimes I still look for ways to quieten the noise and tame that existential loneliness. Like many, I have found that my addiction manifests in new, unexpected ways. Spending, men, work, food (I put on a lot of weight in the early days of sobriety, the result of having suddenly “discovered” sugar) have all been vehicles for my addiction.

At least now I have the tools to recognise when something runs the risk of debilitating me.

Suppose you have not experienced addiction first-hand, nor witnessed a loved one confronting it, maybe you think there is little in this story for you.

Not so. In sharing their stories about the complicated reality of sobriety, I see rallying calls of strength. Just because something isn’t done perfectly doesn’t mean it doesn’t count. Perceived “failures”, the stumbles, mishaps and twists of life are something we all face at some point – it’s what we do when confronted with them that counts. As Lyonne writes: “Keep going, kiddos.” What other choice do we have?”

Excerpt From
“Celebs Are Opening Up About Relapsing. Here’s Why That’s A Good Thing”
Laura Antonia Jordan
British Vogue
https://apple.news/AgRZkwoLST9ahzfP3AsPLpA
This material is protected by copyright.

Sourced and curated by Addiction Actually . 2026.

09/20/2025

💔Christine here and this is my beautiful daughter Hayley. She lost her life to fentanyl poisoning this past June.😞It seems like I could wake up any minute and have her back but I know that’ll never happen. My best friend, my first born. The sweetest soul. I don’t know how to do life without you, and I don’t want to learn. Only 3 months and I miss you so much!!! Every day! My beautiful angel Hayley. 10/93-6/25” -Lets show some love and condolences to Christine❤️

09/17/2025

I went to the pharmacy the other day to get a prescription filled. While I was standing outside waiting for them to fill it, a young man came walking by. He looked up at me, nodded his head, and said hi. I nodded back and said, “Hey, how's it going?” He said, “I would be lying to you if I told you good; I have to go in here and get my Suboxone, and the minute you say that, everybody looks at you like you're the scum of the Earth.” He didn't look scary or strung out like the addicts they show on TV, but he did look defeated. A few minutes later, I went back in and sat down in a chair, waiting when I heard him talking to the pharmacist. He said, “I'm trying to get my life straightened out; I've made a few bad decisions, but I'm trying.” The pharmacist was being very professional; he never took his eyes off the computer while asking questions, never changing facial expressions or tone of voice, but I noticed other people looking at him as if he was a l***r. He said again, “I'm really not a bad person; I just made some mistakes.” Then, to my surprise, he looked down at his feet and, in a half-mumble, said, “My Momma loves me.” At that moment, I didn't see a struggling addict; I saw a child who was hurt and scared and felt all alone. A child reaching his arms out for someone to pick him up and make it all better. That image was so clear in my mind that it broke my heart. The pharmacist told him what the cost was, and another disappointed look came over the young man's face. Again, I saw a child who just found out he had been left behind. He said, “I'm sorry; I thought it would only be five or six dollars; I don't have that much.” I stepped up behind him and said, “I'll cover the rest of it.” He turned around with a shocked look on his face, and I repeated, “I'll cover the rest.” He said, “No, man, you don't have to do that.” I looked at the pharmacist and said, “I'll cover the rest of it.” The young man looked at me but had no words. I said, “You don't have to say anything; just take care of yourself.” I placed the money in his hand and walked back over and sat down. It didn't take long for somebody to make their way over to me and say, “You shouldn't give them money; you better go get it back.” I replied, “That's between me and him, and what he does with it is between him and God.” I didn't tell you this because I did something special; the money wasn't that much. I'm telling you this because, for the first time, I realized how judgmental we all are. All of us live in a neighborhood full of drug addicts. But, for the first time, I realized that they're victims of bad decisions. How many of us have made bad decisions? How many of us thought we could make that big car payment, afford that big beautiful house, or gamble just this once? How many people thought they could watch a little p**n? These, too, are all bad decisions and can have devastating effects on our lives and the lives of those close to us. Do I look at all these people the same way I do an addict? Lately, I've seen a lot of that little kid in all the faces I see. What a wake-up call. If someone is trying to do better, if they're doing the right things, we need to build them up, not tear them down. None of us have clean hands when it comes to making bad choices; some choices are just more complex than others.

Please share.

💚🌺Copied from a friend... stay humble. 💜🌺🙏🙏🙏

07/28/2025

07/26/2025

Just over 14 years ago, - July 23rd 2011, British singer Amy Winehouse was found dead inside her London home at just 27 years old.

Alcohol killed her in the end.

To some, Winehouse's death seemed like a terrible yet predictable end to a long, public tragedy. Right in front of the world's eyes, Winehouse's frame had grown skeletal and her behaviour erratic due to her drug addiction and heavy drinking.

Yet, no one could stop the freefall they could see unfolding right before their eyes, not Winehouse's fans, her family, or her friends. How did such a bright, talented star spiral so publically— and into the annals of history as yet another brilliant artist who died far too young?

There is help widely available. The first step is up to you. ©
Addiction Actually

07/17/2025

Sundays 7pm...

If you’ve been feeling like:

* Everyone’s in their own little world
* No one really sees you
* You’re drowning in silence
* People don’t actually care the way you do…

Just know you're not alone in those feelings. Living in our disconnected world is exhausting.

We need spaces where people can come together, unfiltered and unafraid. To talk about the hard things.

To be seen. To feel included.

This is why I brought back the Sealed Lips Destroy Weekly Zoom Meeting.. I am calling it our weekly hangout.

No pressure. No judgment. No small talk. Just real people, connecting over the real stuff that no one else talks about.

We will talk about it all. Our wins & struggles.

If you’ve been feeling alone—this space is for you.

Set an alarm & drop a ❤ to let me know if you're coming!

We don’t have to do this life alone.

Sending you so much love ~anna

07/17/2025

"It's time to stop judging and start helping" ❤️

Opioid Use Disorder
A chronic brain disease, NOT a moral deficiency!

For decades, people struggling with opioid addiction have faced intense stigma, shame, and misunderstanding. Often labeled as weak, immoral, or lacking willpower, individuals with opioid use disorder (OUD) have been blamed for their condition rather than supported through it. However, modern science paints a very different picture—one rooted in brain chemistry, genetics, and the chronic nature of the disease. Opioid use disorder is not a moral failing. It is a chronic brain disease that requires medical treatment, compassion, and long-term support.

Understanding the Brain and Opioid Use

Opioids—whether prescription painkillers like oxycodone or illicit substances like he**in and fentanyl—interact directly with the brain’s reward system. When a person uses opioids, the drug binds to receptors in the brain, triggering a powerful release of dopamine, a chemical associated with pleasure, reward, and pain relief.

Over time, repeated opioid use actually rewires the brain. The brain starts to rely on opioids to feel “normal.” Natural dopamine production decreases, and the reward system becomes less responsive to everyday pleasures like eating, socializing, or exercise. The person is left chasing the high—not for pleasure, but to avoid the painful symptoms of withdrawal and to feel “okay.”

Why It’s Considered a Chronic Disease

OUD meets all the criteria of a chronic illness:

It changes the structure and function of the brain.

It often requires long-term management and treatment.

It has a high risk of relapse, similar to conditions like diabetes or heart disease.

Just like someone with asthma might need inhalers for life, a person with opioid use disorder might need medication, therapy, and support indefinitely. The goal is not just stopping drug use but managing the illness and preventing relapse.

Genetics, Trauma, and Environment

No one chooses to become addicted. In fact, many people who develop OUD started with a legitimate prescription after surgery or injury. Others may have been exposed through trauma, mental health issues, or environments where substance use was normalized. Research shows that genetics play a significant role, too—if addiction runs in your family, your risk increases.

All of this reinforces that OUD is not about poor character. It’s about biology, life experiences, and vulnerabilities that make some individuals more susceptible than others.

Why Language and Perception Matter

Calling opioid use disorder a “moral failure” not only reinforces stigma, it keeps people from seeking help. When addiction is treated as a personal flaw, those suffering are more likely to hide it, isolate themselves, and avoid the healthcare system altogether.

On the other hand, recognizing addiction as a disease opens the door to evidence-based treatment. Medications like buprenorphine and methadone help stabilize brain chemistry. Counseling and peer support address underlying trauma and emotional needs. Recovery becomes a journey—not a punishment, but a path toward healing.

The Role of Compassion in Recovery

Recovery is real, but it starts with compassion. Just as we don’t shame someone for having cancer or diabetes, we shouldn’t shame someone for having OUD. Instead, we should offer support, advocate for treatment access, and change the way we talk about addiction.

People don’t recover because they’re judged. They recover because they’re believed in.

Final Thoughts

Opioid use disorder is a chronic, treatable brain disease—not a sign of weak character or moral failure. When we shift our mindset from blame to understanding, we can save lives, rebuild families, and create a more compassionate and informed society. It’s time to stop judging and start helping. Recovery is not only possible—it’s happening every day.

07/17/2025

"Loving someone in their addiction doesn't mean enabling them"❤️

09/02/2024