Latest news with #sobriety
The Guardian
6 hours ago
- Health
- The Guardian
A cookbook taught me everything I know about home - and sobriety
If there was a single feeling that defined my 20s, it was a generalised allergy to the very concept of home: I learned it's a myth that you only run away from it once. If you have the skills, you can spend a lot of your life dodging comfort, security and a place to return to. Which I did because I was an alcoholic, and alcoholics are always suspicious of safety. The only true way to be safe is to not drink, after all, and you do not want to stop drinking above all else. This in turn informed my relationship to food. It goes that way for all of us: food is home. You're not really staying in a place unless you've cooked in it. Otherwise you're just a visitor. And because I had always wanted to be a visitor, I'd long been almost deliberately malnourished. I often boasted about my profoundly undistinguished palate, because everybody wants to ensure the worst decisions they make sound like some sort of quirky character trait. But then an odd thing happened: I quit drinking. I tried a few times, sometimes making it stick for a few months, once for over a year. And then finally, definitively, I just … stopped. I don't want to make it sound easy. I mean more that after years of trying to find sobriety, it seemed like suddenly sobriety found me. After that, on the odd day when I caught a glance of myself in the mirror, it seemed like the person there might be someone I might quite like, someday. It was around this time that I purchased an unusual gift for myself: a cookbook. The author was Nigel Slater, whose name rang a bell. Picking it up satisfied one of those odd urges that I had in the early days of a true commitment to sobriety. I later came to understand these urges were newfound pangs of self-preservation. I was immediately taken by the way Slater wrote about food. These were not just recipes. They were short poems, filled with astonishingly beautiful, compact phrases: at one point in Notes from the Larder, he describes garlic being as 'fresh and sweet as a baby's breath'. This poetry was what kept me going through a number of culinary disasters – I learned that before one makes something as wholly nourishing as Slater's macaroni and tomato pasta, they have to actually learn to cook pasta. But I got better – better in regards to cooking, and to all the other stuff too. I started to cook almost every meal, a profound change to a lifetime of takeaway. I made sweet teas and fish cakes; ricotta pancakes and pink lemonades. All of a sudden, I found I had a new sentence to describe myself. I'd had a few in my back pocket for a long time, all of them either tied to my profession or my addictions: I am an alcoholic, I am a writer, I am a painter, I am a chain smoker. But now I had one which was tied to neither self-destruction nor my career: I like to cook. And then something else miraculous happened: I met my partner, Rosie. I sometimes say that she taught me everything I know to be good in this world, and I mean it. The world makes sense to me now, because she is in it. Rosie likes to cook too. For many of our early days together, I was her sous-chef, chopping beside her in the kitchen, with a record on, astonished by this feeling that had come over me, which was the feeling of happiness. These days, I do as much of the cooking in our home as I can without denying Rosie her own culinary joy. I cook for Rosie; I cook for our housemate; I cook for my friends. Because I'm a writer, I often work from home, and one of my favourite things is making something that will be ready shortly after Rosie returns from work. It feels like a little gateway into the rest of the evening; a little marker that says, we are here together again and I have something for us to eat. Destruction is sudden. Healing is slow. You don't actually need to make that many decisions to ruin your life, but you have to make a great deal of decisions to improve it. If you're an addict, you need to stay sober every single day. It is work that never ends. What also never ends, but is only ever briefly satisfied: the desire to eat. When I return, almost daily, to Slater's cookbook, I am re-pledging the desire to not die; to simply, uncomplicatedly sustain myself. The other day I cooked a pasta bake. It was mostly done by the time I heard Rosie's key in the door, the smells of cheese, salt and herbs wafting through the kitchen. And when I heard it, I thought, with a thrill: oh, she's home. And I remembered again, properly, that I was too. Joseph Earp is a critic, painter and novelist. His latest book is Painting Portraits of Everyone I've Ever Dated (A$34.99, Hardie Grant)
Telegraph
18 hours ago
- General
- Telegraph
My son's death broke me, but I've learnt how to stay sober no matter what
I started drinking when I was 12, using alcohol to manage my emotions. We moved around a lot because of my father's job, so I was constantly changing schools. Then my father died when I was 19 and drinking numbed the grief. It gave me a sense of control in a world that felt out of control to me. I drank socially, but it was clear to me from a very early age that I didn't drink in the same way as my friends. I was a blackout drinker – I would lose hours at a time. When I was 17, the church group I attended invited a guest speaker to talk about alcohol abuse. They read out 20 questions that could show if you were an alcoholic. I answered yes to 18 of them. The speaker didn't offer any advice on how to tackle the problem, though. So I thought to myself: 'Oh well, I'm an alcoholic. I'll just have to learn how to hide it.' For years, I was able to hide the extent of my alcoholism. I did well in school, I went to university. I got married young and had two kids. I didn't drink when I was pregnant, but the stress of having two children in two years led me to become a daily drinker. I promised myself that I would never start drinking until the kids were asleep. Which meant I started putting them to bed earlier and earlier. Every morning, I woke up and swore I wouldn't drink that day, but every night I was drunk again. It was just before my son RJ's third birthday that I decided to get sober. My daughter, Emma, was one. I looked at myself and realised: 'I'm going to be that alcoholic mum.' My best friend's mum had been an alcoholic when I was growing up, and I remembered what that was like for her. I didn't want to be that person. I was finally able to get sober in February 1989. People frequently say things like, 'You have to get sober for yourself. You can't get sober for anybody else.' But I got sober for my children. The first years of sobriety were tough. My marriage ended a few months after I stopped drinking. Money was tight. At one point, I worked three jobs. I had to learn how to live with all of my emotions without the anaesthesia of alcohol. At first, it felt like my skin had been peeled off. What got me through that period was reminding myself that I was doing it out of love for my kids. We made a new life together. I built a good career, and the three of us became a happy little family with lots of laughter and joy. I used to think that the only thing that could make me drink again would be if something happened to my kids. RJ was in a car accident in January of 2003. He was 16. He hadn't taken alcohol or drugs, he was wearing his seatbelt and driving a couple of miles to his best friend's house on a rainy night. His car was hit from the side in an intersection, and he sustained a very significant traumatic brain injury. He didn't die that night, but what came in the years that followed compounded the trauma for all of us. I was 40 and still a single mum. Shortly after the accident, it became clear that RJ's injuries were very significant. He was in intensive care for weeks, and we didn't know what was going to happen to him. My daughter was 15 at the time, so I was trying to help and support her while going back and forth to the hospital. I had a successful career in advertising at the time: I was the vice president of a large agency, but unfortunately, my insurance denied coverage for RJ's care in a rehabilitation facility. I had to take him home. I set up his bedroom like a hospital room. My aunt, who is a nurse, came to help and show me how to give him shots, do physical therapy. He was being fed through a tube in his stomach. He'd lost 30lb in the ICU so I made calorie-dense mixtures in the blender to put in his feeding tube to help him gain weight. He was in a coma, and only me and my teenage daughter were there to look after him, although our far-flung family visited as much as they could. When RJ turned 18 I put him in a nursing home. It was one of the hardest decisions I've ever made. He was out of the coma but couldn't walk or talk. He knew who we were, which was a relief, and he could do simple thumbs up and thumbs down gestures for yes and no. The nursing home treated him well, but it was woefully underfunded and there would be buckets lined up capturing the rainwater that came through the roof. My daughter and I would visit often. In the summer of 2005, RJ got the flu and stopped eating, so they fed him through the tube into his stomach. Unfortunately, an error occurred, which meant the nutrition was going into his abdomen rather than his stomach. He developed sepsis. He went back into a coma, which the doctors said he would never come out of. I had to decide to let him go. People often ask how I stayed sober after RJ died, and how I didn't respond in the same way I had to my father's death: by drinking the pain away. A couple of things stopped me from doing so. First: Emma was a teenager, she had lost her brother and needed my support more than ever. Second: I understood enough about myself as an alcoholic to know if I picked up just one drink, I would go immediately back to my old ways and that my daughter would suffer. Staying sober means separating illusion from reality. The illusion is that I might be able to drink safely, in moderation. The reality is that I am an alcoholic. I had an illusion that I could somehow control my grief; the duration, intensity, or timing. The reality is that I have no control over it. Grief is like the weather: you don't know what it will be like from one day to the next, you just have to adjust to the conditions as best you can. Sometimes, I would be fine for weeks, and then burst into tears on a business trip at the sight of a little boy running towards his mother in an airport. This summer will mark the 20th anniversary of RJ's death and I know now there is no end to the grief over the loss of a child. It changes, but it will always be a part of me. What helped was finding community. I sought out recovering alcoholics who had also lost children. I needed people around me who could model moving through loss without alcohol or drugs, who understood what I was going through, who could show me how to stay sober no matter what. Many people are impatient about grief. After the initial wave of empathy, they begin to act like you should, at some point, get over it. I felt self-conscious about still being broken-hearted years after he died, like I was grieving wrong. One sober, bereaved mother told me I should never be ashamed of crying. She let herself cry after her child died until she was done crying, regardless of what others thought. I realised I would never be the same person again after losing RJ. And that was OK. It enabled me to show myself some grace and compassion. Once I started to accept that this was my life now, I could be more gentle and forgiving with myself. The guidance and support I have found in my spiritual practice and community has helped me live with the loss. I am remarried and I'm a grandmother; Emma is happily married with two children and a career as a nurse. I understand that RJ's death broke me and I may never be fully back together. But I am still able to experience happiness and joy. When my granddaughter was born she looked just like RJ. Being around my grandchildren is joyful, even though I know now how it might end. I've learnt how to stay sober no matter what. By sharing my story, I might help others navigate pain and loss. I have never been seriously tempted to pick up another drink. There is a phrase in recovery groups that always comes to mind when I'm feeling low: 'There's nothing so bad that a drink won't make it worse.' As told to Sam Delaney The Saint And The Drunk - A Guide To Making The Big Decisions In Your Life by Stephanie Peirolo is out now
Fast Company
2 days ago
- Business
- Fast Company
How a Colorado initiative is helping support workers in recovery
At Odie B's, a sandwich shop in Denver, recovery from drug and alcohol use is part of daily operations. 'Seventy percent of our staff is active in recovery,' Cliff Blauvelt, co-owner of Odie B's, said in a video testimonial. 'We try to provide a safe space where people can feel comfortable.' Blauvelt has struggled with alcohol use for more than 20 years. He co-owns Odie B's with his wife, Cara Blauvelt. One employee, Molly, said working at Odie B's helped her focus on sobriety and reconnect with her sense of purpose. 'I was burned out, I was working a lot of hours. … I started dry January, and after a few months I realized I needed to quit drinking,' she said in the same video testimonial. 'Cara definitely helped with my sobriety journey, just reminding me one day at a time, and now, I have been sober for going on two years.' Colorado is one of more than 30 states that have launched recovery-friendly workplace programs in recent years. They're part of a growing effort to reframe how employers address addiction, mental health and recovery for the well-being of their employees and businesses. Our team from the Centers for Health, Work & Environment at the Colorado School of Public Health works with employers to develop training guidelines and policies to help make their workplaces supportive of recovery. Over the past three years, we've worked to understand the tools employers need to better support employees with substance use disorders. Many are deeply motivated but lack formal policies or training. That gap is what the Colorado Recovery Friendly Workplace Initiative is designed to fill. Since 2021, our team has developed and delivered recovery and mental health training to more than 8,000 Colorado employees. They represent more than 100 businesses in industries ranging from local government to construction companies and health care providers. Our training sessions focus on equipping individuals with an understanding of mental health and substance use disorders, explaining how to combat stigma, and outlining how to navigate accommodations in the workplace. The toll of addiction Substance use is not just a personal issue; it's a public health and workforce challenge. In 2023, 1,865 Coloradans died from a drug overdose, according to data from the Colorado Department of Public Health and Environment. That's up about 65 deaths from the previous year. Nationally, overdose deaths have more than doubled since 2015. In high-risk industries, such as construction and mining, where physically demanding work, long hours and job insecurity are common, workers have some of the highest rates of nonmedical opioid use. These workers are thus at a high risk of developing substance use disorders. They also face other mental health challenges. These same sectors face the highest suicide rates across all occupations and nearly double that of the general public. Recovery, as defined by the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration, a federal agency, includes 'a process of change through which people improve their health and wellness, live self-directed lives, and strive to reach their full potential.' In Colorado, an estimated 400,000 people identify as being in recovery. Many of them are working, raising families and rebuilding their lives. The economic impact of substance use is significant. Colorado has lost more than 360 million work hours to opioid use over the past decade, according to the American Action Forum, a nonprofit that conducts economic analyses. That's the equivalent of 173,000 full-time jobs for one year. In 2017 alone, the cost of lost productivity due to opioid use disorder and fatal opioid overdose in Colorado was estimated to be US$834 million. Employers save an average of $8,500 per year for each employee in recovery, according to the National Safety Council. These savings come from lower health care costs, reduced absenteeism and decreased turnover. In other words, when employers retain and support workers through recovery rather than lose them to untreated substance use, they see measurable benefits. A shifting policy landscape In 2024, Colorado lawmakers passed a bill for supporting recovery and addressing the opioid epidemic. The legislation provided funding to establish the Recovery Friendly Workplaces Initiative and the voluntary employer participation and certification program. In early 2025, funding for the initiative was removed from the state budget due to a broader fiscal shortfall. The funding cut disrupted many of our planned activities, and we are currently relying on interim support from counties and state offices. Looking ahead Small businesses remain a priority for our team, despite recent funding cuts. Many lack human resources departments or formal wellness programs but are nonetheless deeply committed to helping their employees succeed. A Colorado Recovery Friendly Workplace Initative participant, Absolute Caulking & Waterproofing of Colorado, employs 39 people. Absolute has championed recovery-friendly policies as something the business values. 'This partnership saves us time and resources, which is invaluable for our small, family-owned business,' said Sarah Deering, vice president of the company. The road ahead presents challenges, including limited funding, the societal stigma around recovery and all of the complexities of recovery itself. But we continue to follow the scientific evidence. Our research team is evaluating the outcomes of our programs to better understand their impact and hopefully inform future policy recommendations. We are committed to the belief that work can and should be a place of healing.
Daily Mail
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- Daily Mail
Aussie actor shares shocking before-and-after photo of his dramatic body transformation after giving up alcohol
Dan Ewing has stunned fans by sharing a shocking before-and-after post to mark his 40th birthday on Tuesday. The former Home and Away star shared two shirtless bathroom selfies to social media to showcase his dramatic weight loss progress over the past year. In the before photo, Dan looked downbeat as he showcased his bloated stomach, while the second picture taken a year later showed him looking significantly more muscular and upbeat. He captioned the gallery with some revealing words: 'This is 40. But more importantly, that second photo was 39.' 'Exactly one year ago today. A depressed alcoholic. Crushed by internal trauma. Existing, not living. I'd love to say that on that day, I had the courage to change.' From A-list scandals and red carpet mishaps to exclusive pictures and viral moments, subscribe to the DailyMail's new showbiz newsletter to stay in the loop. Dan then opened up about how he turned his life around in the space of six months. 'It took hitting absolute rock bottom at the end of 2024. That's when the universe finally said "enough" and it took the wheel from me,' he wrote. 'From that rock-bottom came the decision to get sober - and that one choice changed everything. 'It snowballed into a deeper love for myself, into true connection with the source - God, universe, whatever name you give this sacred, powerful energy we are all part of.' He added his good fortune had significantly improved after he gave up alcohol. 'None of that would have happened without that hard first decision. That moment I asked for help,' he wrote. 'Sobriety didn't just transform my life. It allowed me to show up fully - for my family, friends and everyone I encounter. To serve in the way I was always meant to.' Dan has long been open with fans about his past struggles and in 2021 he revealed he suffered from anxiety and would use alcohol to cope with his newfound fame after joining the cast of Home and Away in 2007. Dan has long been open with fans about his past struggles and in 2021 he revealed he suffered from anxiety and would use alcohol to cope with his newfound fame after joining the cast of Home and Away in 2007 In an interview with the ImperfectlyPerfect Podcast, the actor admitted he found being thrown into the spotlight challenging. 'I really struggled. I was just some kid from the Northern Beaches, so then to shoot to fame on the biggest show in Australia in Home and Away... I wasn't ready,' he confessed. 'My partner at the time wasn't ready, and I didn't know it at the time, but I was really suffering with anxiety.' Dan said he turned to alcohol as a coping mechanism for what he was going through. 'I'd just sort of tip all this grog down my neck and get absolutely written off on the weekend,' he explained. 'You disguise it as, "Oh, it's blowing off steam. We all do it" and we all have done it. But for me, I just didn't understand that there was a better way, there was a better process...' Dan admitted it was 'not conducive to a great relationship or a great marriage or a great lifestyle', even though he was still 'kicking goals work-wise'.
News.com.au
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- News.com.au
‘Rock bottom': Aussie actor Dan Ewing's shocking before-and-after post
Australian actor Dan Ewing has opened up about his 'rock bottom' moment, describing himself as a 'depressed alcoholic' before recently turning his life and health around. Ewing spoke out in a candid post to mark his 40th birthday, sharing two contrasting photos of himself: One of him today, looking super-fit, and another from a year ago, when he said he was struggling with alcohol dependency and 'crushed by internal trauma.' But Home and Away star Ewing said his 'absolute rock bottom' moment didn't come until six months after his 'before' photo was taken, at the end of 2024. 'That's when the universe finally said, 'Enough.' And it took the wheel from me,' he wrote. 'It was one of the most painful, soul-shaking, transformative moments of my life. From that rock bottom came the decision to get sober and that one choice changed everything.' Ewing didn't offer specific details about what exactly had happened during his 'rock bottom' moment to make him decide to seek help. The actor revealed that he's celebrating his 40th while shooting a film in Fiji, a career opportunity that he says never 'would have happened without that hard decision. That moment I asked for help.' He said that said sobriety 'didn't just transform my life. It allowed me to show up fully – for my family, my friends, and everyone I encounter.' The Aussie star said he had plan to celebrate his milestone birthday that reflected his new-found healthy lifestyle: 'I'm soaking up the sun, hitting the gym, and celebrating with some of my beautiful cast and crew here in Fiji tonight — over a Pepsi Max or four.' Ewing's fans applauded his honesty in the candid post, with one follower commenting that they had 'no idea' what he'd been privately dealing with. 'I'm so proud of you that you won that battle,' one fan wrote. 'Be proud of yourself,' another told him. Ewing is best-known for his long-running role as Heath Braxton in the Seven soap Home and Away, and has also appeared in films including 2020's Love and Monsters and 2023's Godless: The Eastfield Exorcism. Father of two Ewing made headlines in 2018 when he was involved in a heated altercation with his son's stepfather during a custody swap – a confrontation that saw him slapped with an AVO. Ewing later during his 2021 stint on the reality series SAS Australia.
