Jane Velez-Mitchell is an award-winning television news journalist and host of
Issues with Jane Velez-Mitchell on HLN, CNN's Headline News channel
. She is a nationally recognized expert on addiction and recovery and has commented on substance abuse and addictive behavior for a variety of cable channels, including CNN, HLN, Court TV, Fox News, and MSNBC. Jane rose to cable news prominence in her role as substitute host on HLN's
Nancy Grace. She has been featured on CNN's
Larry King Live on several occasions, discussing high-profile criminal cases and the roles addiction and obsession play in those sagas.
Introduction
I Want My Experiences to Serve a Purpose
This is the story of my ch . . . ch . . . changes, which took me from insanity to clarity, from egocentricity to altruism, from alcoholism to activism. These changes have marked an evolution in what I want from this life. I am what I want. What I seek to consume, possess, and achieve is a mirror that reflects my lusts and cravings, values and priorities, and moral boundaries or lack thereof. I am happy to say that what I want today is much less toxic and self-centered than what I used to want. It's taken decades of self-examination to peel back the layers and figure out what really makes me happy. And while I'm still searching for my ultimate bliss, I know for sure it's not what I once thought it was. It's not alcohol, cigarettes, money, food, sugar, or status symbols: I've consumed all of those in massive quantities, and they've just made me miserable. Now, I want what can't be tasted, smoked, worn, seen, or counted. It's the opposite of material. As sappy as it might sound, what I want is spiritual.
The shift from material to spiritual is a particular challenge in our culture. We have allowed ourselves to be defined by our consumption, instead of by our ability to move beyond it. To keep consumers consuming, the corporate culture has brainwashed us into thinking we can change ourselves by changing what we buy, which pills we pop, what type of booze we swill, what gated community we join, what kind of golf clubs we swing, and what kind of cancer sticks we dangle between our lips. We've been told that certain consumer choices say a lot about us, that they reveal our character. If we've stepped up to a more prestigious brand, we've changed for the better. Nonsense! We cannot consume our way into personal growth. Yet, millions of us have bought into this cynical concept of faux identity. If you keep buying the 'latest and the greatest' but feel like you're stuck in the same place, you're just changing labels, and that's not changing. That's rearranging. Real change occurs on the emotional, psychological, and spiritual levels, not in a shopping mall, a car dealership, online, at the drugstore, at the liquor store, or at the fast-food joint.
For too long, we have allowed ourselves to be manipulated by forces whose sole purpose is PROFIT and POWER. We have given advertisers leave to claim that inanimate objects have spiritual qualities. One ad, in perhaps the world's most prestigious newspaper, urges us to buy an expensive diamond by insisting that such a purchase will feed the soul, lift the spirit, and increase our resolve to achieve whatever we wish. Really? How exactly does a diamond feed the soul? It's absurd! This is false advertising. Today, as a culture, we are awash in false advertising.
As a society, we've lent legitimacy to these patent lies by literally buying into them. As a result of this unnecessary, self-indulgent consumption, we've gone a long way toward destroying our natural environment with our waste. Perhaps most important, by obsessing about material things, we've cheated ourselves out of the most fundamental aspect of the human experience: real experiences that result in real growth.
Unlike diamonds, meaningful experiences can actually feed the soul, resulting in self-development and self-knowledge. Authentic change has allowed me to gradually learn why I'm here experiencing this existence as well as what I am destined to contribute during my lifetime.
For me, meaningful change has been about getting sober, becoming honest, and adopting a new attitude. Sobriety has allowed me to shift the criteria I use for all the decisions I make from an ego-based formula of what's in it for me to a more evolved formula based on compassion for other people, other living creatures, and our environment. It's an ongoing struggle, and there are many times when I fail. But I keep trying.
This book is my story of how I've progressed from self-obsession to a life that I hope will count. In the tradition of the Twelve Steps* created by Alcoholics Anonymous, I'm going to lay out what it was like, what happened to change me, and what it's like now. For thirty years as a television news reporter, I've been recounting other people's mostly sordid stories. Frankly, the prospect of airing my own dirty laundry scares the wits out of me. The very thought of this sparks a flood of memories, primarily featuring the many stupid and embarrassing things I've done over the years, especially before I got sober. My face burns at the prospect of sharing some of these memories with you.
I know we're all only as sick as our secrets*. By pouring out the intimate details of my personal history, I am trying to get healthier through honesty. Still, I can't help but wonder if you really have to know every single one of my secrets. Is that what is meant by rigorous honesty*? These thoughts swirl through my mind as I huddle under my covers unable to sleep.
Suddenly, I pop out of bed and I'm at my computer, my sleep mask still affixed to my forehead. Am I having a bout of inspiration? Or is it just a spell of insomnia brought on by my Chihuahuas, Cabo and Foxy, who keep scratching and burrowing under the covers, trying to find a more comfortable spot? The recovering people pleaser* that I am, I could learn something from these two. They have an innate self-esteem that borders on haughtiness. They crack me up. I'm so glad these two little rescues are with me on this leg of my journey. I tell them everything . . . and they don't judge.
I am fifty-three, and I feel like parts of me are disappearing into the ether. Like most boomers, I've convinced myself that I don't look my age. Still, as my mom says, 'The body is like soap. It gets used up.' My eyesight is getting fuzzier, so I have to set the point size of the type at 14 so that I can actually read what I'm writing on the computer screen. But the good news is my increasingly used-up body is feeling less weighed down to this earth as I continue to lighten my load spiritually and psychologically. I am feeling more and more that, when my time comes, I will be ready to take off and see what's next.
The biggest leap in my personal evolution was getting sober. I was a drunk. I was what you would call your garden-variety lush. I didn't kill or maim anyone. I didn't leave a baby or a dog to suffocate in a hot car. I didn't even get a DUI. But believe me, I was a blackout drinker who did many bizarre things while under the influence. I am not proud of those times. However, like many drunks, I also have a few fond memories of the silly, kooky things I'd done and the wild, decadent parties I'd attended. Even in darkness, there is some light.
I finally put down my last drink in 1995 on April Fools'Day (yes, I got sober on April Fools' Day). At the time, I thought any possibility of fun was gone forever. I also thought my problems were finally over. I was wrong on both counts. Now that I'm actually in touch with my feelings, because I'm no longer covering them up with inauthentic substances, I cry more than I ever have, but I also laugh more, much more. Why, just earlier this evening, I got a serious case of the giggles after losing my shoe upon leaving a fancy charity gala in Bel Air. My high heel simply slipped off my foot, tumbled down a flight of stairs, and into a gully. I limped along to the parking lot on one high heel, sparking stares from people who must have thought I was quite tipsy. But I wasn't concerned. At this point in my sobriety, I'm always relatively relaxed because I know there's absolutely nothing I can do sober that's as embarrassing as what I used to do drunk. Not even if I tried hard!
Sometimes I get so giddy in sobriety that someone will ask me if I'm okay to drive. I love that! I laugh and assure them that I'm okay. There's still a goofy teenager inside me, and I don't think she's going anywhere. That's okay. I like her. But I do believe that virtually everything else about me has metamorphosed and continues to do so thanks to finally ridding myself of my drug of choice—alcohol—and getting into recovery.
Becoming sober was a profound shift that occurred in my psyche. Just about everything about me has changed these last fourteen years. My attitude, my expectations, my thoughts, my feelings, my behavior, my sexuality—it's all different. There's a sober saying: The only thing that has to change is everything. How true that is!
Once I got sober, I was slammed with a host of new challenges I hadn't expected. I quickly learned that addictions jump! Without alcohol, I began craving food—particularly refined sugar and carbohydrates. Junk food that I'd never even noticed before—like Oreos—suddenly became very seductive. It's very common for recovering alcoholics to crave sugar. I was relatively lucky because I also became a vegan and that automatically knocked a ton of junk food off of my plate. But I still managed to find the sweets, like Oreos, that had no butter, milk, or other animal products. I also gorged on high-tech gadgets as my addiction hopped to shopping. My work became an obsession as well, and I overdid it there too until I hit bottom. That happened when my workaholism destroyed a very important love relationship.
Alcoholic thinking*—a black-and-white/all-or-nothing view—often remains even in sobriety. For many dry drunks* this type of thinking never gets resolved. I recognized this, and so, once the obsession to drink was lifted, I began working on my emotional sobriety*.
When I was still in my disease*, I had been devoting huge amounts of energy trying to escape from unpleasant emotions. In other words, I was stuffing my feelings*. When I finally surrendered to my powerlessness* over alcohol, I had tons of energy that needed a new outlet. I looked at the world around me and realized that there were things about it I desperately wanted to change. With this newfound energy, I began to take action to effect change and make my life count. But there was still more ...
