Ask a Sober Oldster #29: Elizabeth Jannuzzi
"Being alive, that’s the best thing about being in recovery."
This monthly interview series is a collaboration between Oldster Magazine and The Small Bow, A.J. Daulerio’s excellent newsletter about recovery and mental health, and will appear in both newsletters. Learn more about this collaboration in this Oldster podcast/videocast episode.
Elizabeth Jannuzzi’s debut memoir, Sober Mom, will be published by She Writes Press in July 2026. Her work explores themes of loss, motherhood, and recovery from alcoholism. Her essays are forthcoming or have been featured in Under the Gum Tree, The Rumpus, Memoir Monday, The Brevity Blog, and more. She’s writes a weekly Substack on recovery and works as a program director at Project Write Now, a nonprofit writing organization, based in New Jersey. —
How old are you, and how long have you been in recovery?
I am … (gets calculator to double-check) 53 years old. I’ve been sober … (opens Grapevine app to double-check) 14 years and 11 months. My ego wants to say “15 years”—my sober date is January 8, 2011—but I’m not there yet! As we know, I only have today.
By age 17, I checked off “yes” on most of the questions in the “Do you have a drinking problem?” brochure. Do you usually end up drinking more than planned? Do you black out? Do you lie about how much you’re drinking? Yes, yes, and yes. For the next 20 years, I kept my disease pretty well hidden because I never wanted anyone to call me out on my drinking, and tell me I had to stop like they told my brother. I didn’t want to stop. I couldn’t stop.
How did you get there?
I always knew I was an alcoholic. When I started drinking around 8th grade, my older brother William was getting in trouble for his drinking. He got sent to rehab, and our parents insisted we attend family therapy sessions. There I learned about the disease of alcoholism. By age 17, I checked off “yes” on most of the questions in the “Do you have a drinking problem?” brochure. Do you usually end up drinking more than planned? Do you black out? Do you lie about how much you’re drinking? Yes, yes, and yes.
For the next 20 years, I kept my disease pretty well hidden because I never wanted anyone to call me out on my drinking, and tell me I had to stop like they told my brother. I didn’t want to stop. I couldn’t stop.
But finally at age 38, my life imploded when my husband discovered I had a one-night affair. During a colossal screaming fight, I revealed that I was drinking vodka, almost every day, during the day, while taking care of our three young children. My husband was relieved because he could always tell something was wrong but never knew what. I kept my drinking very well hidden. Turns out, I was a good liar.
Once I admitted my drinking problem out loud to another human being, I knew I had to stop drinking and go to AA meetings.
“You never have to feel this way again,” the women said to me at my first meeting as they collected my phone number. And it’s almost 15 years later and they’ve been right so far.
Through working the Twelve Steps of AA and Al-Anon, my husband and I were able to repair our marriage. And although I regret the hurt I caused with my affair, I can see it now as a trapdoor into sobriety. We renewed our vows on our 10th wedding anniversary when I was 10 months sober. This past October, we celebrated 24 years of marriage. My debut memoir, Sober Mom, is a story about recovery from alcoholism, but it’s also a love story!
What are the best things about being in recovery?
This is going to sound dramatic, but the best thing about being in recovery is knowing I’m not going to die from my drinking. My brother, the one I mentioned above, relapsed after three years sober and died when he was 21 years old in a drunk driving accident. My older sister Julia died by suicide at age 29. I believe her alcoholism played a part in her decision to kill herself. I have loved ones who died from cancer and research shows that certain cancers are caused by alcohol. I get really frustrated when people downplay the dangers of alcohol.
A neighbor worrying about her son’s drinking, said to me “Well, at least it’s not drugs.” Drugs are bad, sure, but alcohol and alcoholism devastates lives as well. I get so angry at society for being so cavalier about drinking. The World Health Organization says no level of alcohol consumption is safe for our health. But sure, TV writers, keep showing your cocktail parties, drinks at a bar, and people getting drunk like it’s no big deal. Like you don’t know someone who died from drinking. Ok, stepping off my soap box now.
Being alive, that’s the best thing about being in recovery.
At 38 my life imploded when my husband discovered I had a one-night affair. During a colossal screaming fight, I revealed that I was drinking vodka, almost every day, during the day, while taking care of our three young children. My husband was relieved because he could always tell something was wrong but never knew what. I kept my drinking very well hidden. Turns out, I was a good liar.
What’s hard about being in recovery?
When I first stopped drinking, I was pretty miserable. I’d get really annoyed at people in meetings who said things like: “A gentle wind blew through the window and my desire to drink disappeared.” Maybe you’re not a real alcoholic, I would think, slumped in my folding chair. I craved alcohol for about a year after I quit. Eventually, though, my desire to drink went away. Now I rarely think about drinking.
Also, in early sobriety, it was difficult to feel all my emotions, the ones that I kept well hidden under a thick layer of vodka. At first, I had trouble even identifying my feelings. Am I angry? Am I sad? Am I afraid? (Yes, it’s usually fear.)
Working the Twelve Steps with my sponsor helped me sort all that out. Now I can say I’m grateful for my feelings, even the difficult ones like grief. When I was six years sober, my mother passed away and I was forced to deal with her loss compounded by the deaths of my siblings, which I had drank over. The grief was devastating, but I was so grateful to feel that loss, instead of washing it away with alcohol like I had previously. I learned in sobriety that grief is love. Feeling the grief let me feel the love for my family.
How has your character changed? What’s better about you?
In some ways I feel like the same person, but I know that’s not true. As I said above, the Twelve Steps, specifically Steps 4 and 5, changed my whole perspective. I stopped blaming everyone else for my problems, I stopped lying, I stopped swirling in a spiral of self-pity. I stopped trying to control everything. Wait, none of that is true! It’s not that I stopped these things completely. I have only a daily reprieve based on my spiritual condition. But what’s changed is that I can now identify my defects, and I have the tools to deal with them WHEN (not if) they reemerge.
The main thing that’s better about me in sobriety is that I now have a primary purpose, as my sponsor likes to remind me. It is to stay sober and help another alcoholic. It’s good to have a purpose in life.
What do you still need to work on? What “character defects” do you still wrestle with?
One day, my friend Kelly and I were skiing and we skied on a trail that ran underneath a chair lift. “I hate skiing under the chairlift,” we said at the same time. “Because you’re worried a chair will fall on you and you will die?” Kelly asked, because that was what SHE worried about. “No!” I responded. “I’m worried people are judging my skiing skills.”
Self-centered fear is and will probably always be my main defect, although it has definitely lessened, whether that’s due to age or sobriety I’m not sure.
When I’m not spiritually fit, I’m thinking about what people think of me. I’m worried they are mad at me.
Through working the Twelve Steps of AA and Al-Anon, my husband and I were able to repair our marriage. And although I regret the hurt I caused with my affair, I can see it now as a trapdoor into sobriety. We renewed our vows on our 10th wedding anniversary when I was 10 months sober. This past October, we celebrated 24 years of marriage. My debut memoir, Sober Mom, is a story about recovery from alcoholism, but it’s also a love story!
What’s the best recovery memoir you’ve ever read? Tell us what you liked about it.
The best recovery memoir is the last one I read. For a quit lit book club I’m in, I just reread Dry by Augusten Burroughs. It really is a fantastic recovery memoir. Burroughs gives just the right amount of his drinking story to understand how he drank but then he focuses on his recovery and shows that quitting drinking isn’t enough.
What are some memorable sober moments?
In my sober network, we talk about god-conscious moments. A brief period of time when you can actually feel your connection to your Higher Power. When your heart bursts with love and joy or when you feel full of awe at the miracle of the universe. A moment when you think, THIS, this is what it’s all about.
This past Thanksgiving was one such moment. Chris and I hosted a cornucopia of cousins, about 24 people in total. The food worked out okay, but it’s never about the food for me. The vibe was amazing. Everyone had a great time. Several attendees sent me cards or emails afterwards thanking me. I’m so grateful that people want to come to my house and enjoy themselves when they are here. If I was still drinking that certainly wouldn’t be the case. I plan to host every year!
This is going to sound dramatic, but the best thing about being in recovery is knowing I’m not going to die from my drinking. My brother, the one I mentioned above, relapsed after three years sober and died when he was 21 years old in a drunk driving accident. My older sister Julia died by suicide at age 29. I believe her alcoholism played a part in her decision to kill herself.
Are you in therapy? On meds? Tell us about that.
I’ve struggled with depression my whole life. It can get pretty severe. I’m always baffled when people are shocked when someone dies by suicide and asks why. I understand “the why.” (I wrote an essay about it.)
If I need it, I will seek help outside of AA for my mental health, therapy and/or medication. I’m very lucky that the nonprofit organization I work for, Project Write Now, provides me with one free therapy session a month. How great is that! Two years ago, I went on SSRIs to help me through a particular difficult bout of depression. But when I started to feel better, I asked my doctor to wean me off. I didn’t like the feeling of being reliant on a medication.
What sort of activities or groups do you participate in to help your recovery? (i.e. swimming, 12-step, meditation, et cetera)
As I indicated above, I’m a member of AA and an active member of my home group. I do my best to participate in Steps 10 (daily personal inventory), 11 (prayer and meditation), and 12 (service) daily. I pray every morning but my meditation game is not great. I keep telling myself one day, maybe when I’m retired, I’ll mediate for 20 minutes every day. Being of service to someone else, either a fellow AAer or “a normie” gets me out of my head which always improves my mood.
Walking for at least 30 minutes, ideally 45 minutes every day, is essential to my mental health.
In addition, I try to be in nature as much as possible. My husband and I along with close friends are slowly section hiking the Appalachian Trial. On work days, for a quick break, Chris and I will go on a five minute walk through our backyard.
And writing of course. If I don’t write several times a week, I start to feel itchy.
Self-centered fear is and will probably always be my main defect, although it has definitely lessened, whether that’s due to age or sobriety I’m not sure. When I’m not spiritually fit, I’m thinking about what people think of me. I’m worried they are mad at me.
Are there any questions we haven’t asked you that you think we should add to this? And would you like to answer it?
“Is your memoir available for pre-order?” Why, yes, yes it is! If you want the full story about how I blew up my life and then repaired it, read Sober Mom: A Memoir.
Thanks, Sari and AJ for giving me this platform, and for sharing people’s recovery stories. There’s hope in every one of your posts.
This is a terrific interview. Thank you to Elizabeth and Sari for publishing this. This quote from Elizabeth really spoke to me: "Self-centered fear is and will probably always be my main defect, although it has definitely lessened, whether that’s due to age or sobriety I’m not sure.
When I’m not spiritually fit, I’m thinking about what people think of me. I’m worried they are mad at me."
Self-consciousness that borders on the neurotic (meaning caring about what others think to an unhealthy extent) seems to be a common trait of people who struggle with alcohol. I drink as a social lubricant, and this fear of failing to belong has a lot to do with it.
Excellent interview!
I’ve been sober 37 years, 6 months, and 21 days – like you, I know it would be cheating to say “38 years.” We’re always just one drink away from losing everything.
I didn’t “intend” to become sober. My ex-husband had the drinking problem, not me. When he decided to get help, I went with him to check him into a recovery program. They had two options: a 28-day inpatient program and a 6-week outpatient program. Aha, I thought triumphantly, they can have him for 28 days, and I can get some sleep (once I swept up the ashes from the fence he had “accidentally” set on fire the day before during a drunken barbecue).
But the intake counselor decided that the outpatient program would be just fine given our circumstances and the patterns of my ex’s drinking. Okay, after three years of living with his drinking, what’s one more day? Besides, I'll show him - he can rake up all that ash and charcoal. So we signed the papers and went home, with our assurances that we’d be back the very next day for the first session.
Back we go the next afternoon, me leading the way with my ex in tow, rather like taking an incalcitrant puppy to obedience class. At the door, I hand over the imaginary leash to the counselor. Who proceeded to take the leash from my outstretched hand along with said hand and yank me through the door together with my ex.
Turns out, the people running the outpatient program believe that alcoholism is a family affair, which meant everyone goes through the program together. Who knew?
It took nearly three weeks of me sitting in nightly meetings, day after day, seething with resentment before something like sanity took over. From that point forward, I was all in.
One thing you said really resonated with me: having trouble identifying feelings. The meeting leaders spent a lot of time on this one important topic. Every time my turn came up to “share my feelings,” I only recognized one: rage. One day, one of the leaders said, “McDowell, you can’t keep saying rage – we know you’re mad at everyone and everything.” She then handed me a list of emotions and said, “Look through this list and see if you can find even one more emotion you might be feeling.”
I snatch the paper from her hand and start scanning, certain that nothing on that list would feel familiar. But wait a minute – here’s one. Oh, and here’s another. Okay, maybe I could learn to identify and feel all my emotions.
Fast forward 37 years, 6 months, and 21 days, and at least on this day, I’m still sober. Those of us who are still counting the sober days are the lucky ones. Unfortunately, not everyone is; my ex was 16 years sober before he started drinking again. And yes, luck has something to do with sustained progress, but working the steps and using the tools we’ve been given every single day are the keys!