Dear Meredith: Of all the powerful things you said here, I love most: "Writing soothes and satisfies the craziness better than any other distraction from it." Yesssssssssss! Warmly, Margaret Mandell
Alcohol is a depressant. She gets depressed when she drinks alcohol. Sometimes she gets depressed because she can’t have a Ciroc, very dry, just open a good vermouth and smell it, then put it away, very dirty, just bring me a side of olive juice, please, shaken, not stirred, in a very expensive oversized pre-chilled Martini glass with the frost obscuring that is fine crystal, preferably Orrefors, in a bar in Manhattan. But not as depressed as if she drank said martini.
I'm no biblical scholar, but the book is fanatical about hair. Samson's power is in his hair. A woman's crown and glory is her hair. Grey hair is the crown and glory of a life well lived. There is probably a lot more about hair in there. I'm a person who has lost all of her hair, and then experienced the absolute joy of it all growing back.
Loved your post, so brave to embrace your real self and find community too.
Wow. Loved this post by Meredith Maran! It made me laugh and made me think, and hit me in all the right places. I’m a normie but a child of a severe alcoholic, have an ex who drank himself half dead, and am now married to (surprise) a recovering alcoholic. Who is wonderful. I need to read Meredith’s memoir!
Yes, Maureen! No haircuts for awhile with the bushy head of hair all back. I threw out the wig worn to work for months. Everyone seemed to prefer the elegant look of the wig for awhile. But when I arrived one morning with a tiny dirty blond pixie there was a standing ovation. Astonishing. Hair is a big to do.
Very cool. I quit drinking 15 years ago (I'm still a youngster, turning 48 next month), and adjusting to being a "normie" was one of the toughest things I've ever done.
I had my last (lease God) drink in 1986 . I was already an old lady, though I was 36 years old. Today, I am 74 and to quote Dylan, I was so much older then. I’m younger than that now. This summer I was diagnosed with lung cancer and last week had a lung lobe removed. When I was told about my cancer, the first question I asked the doctor was whether my hair would fall out. I didn’t ask how long I would live. My concern was whether I would be bald when laid to rest. When actively drinking and drugging, I wanted to die. Now after these years of sobriety, I want to live I’m not dying and am not ready to pack it in. I love reading this monthly series. Thanks everyone!
In my head, I hear Bonnie Raitt singing What is Success? It’s an old song but the response to the refrain remains the same “I don’t know.” Why, at 72, do I continue to send my work out? Where’s the need? I have it all – truly. So why? I am not crushed by rejection – mostly heartened to the challenge – what does it matter? I scan the positive ‘no thank yous – but’ keep writing, send me future work. - I do.
Small winter fires to warm my tired hands and I shudder to think when my knee pain eventually reaches my fingers – I’ll have to consider death – only then.
Thank you Meredith for acknowledging the difference in the desire to write and the need to write.
I love this so so much!! My favorite line, "She and I didn’t last, but my sobriety did." My sobriety saves the day every day no matter what happens. Thank you Meredith - keep coming back!
Dear Meredith: Of all the powerful things you said here, I love most: "Writing soothes and satisfies the craziness better than any other distraction from it." Yesssssssssss! Warmly, Margaret Mandell
Alcohol is a depressant. She gets depressed when she drinks alcohol. Sometimes she gets depressed because she can’t have a Ciroc, very dry, just open a good vermouth and smell it, then put it away, very dirty, just bring me a side of olive juice, please, shaken, not stirred, in a very expensive oversized pre-chilled Martini glass with the frost obscuring that is fine crystal, preferably Orrefors, in a bar in Manhattan. But not as depressed as if she drank said martini.
I added "The New Old Me" to my want-to-read list. This post also made me want to re-read "Lit" by Mary Karr.
I'm no biblical scholar, but the book is fanatical about hair. Samson's power is in his hair. A woman's crown and glory is her hair. Grey hair is the crown and glory of a life well lived. There is probably a lot more about hair in there. I'm a person who has lost all of her hair, and then experienced the absolute joy of it all growing back.
Loved your post, so brave to embrace your real self and find community too.
Yes, hair is a hot writing topic for me. I, too lost all my hair, every single bodily hair, and delighted in its return. I’m glad yours grew back too.
Wow. Loved this post by Meredith Maran! It made me laugh and made me think, and hit me in all the right places. I’m a normie but a child of a severe alcoholic, have an ex who drank himself half dead, and am now married to (surprise) a recovering alcoholic. Who is wonderful. I need to read Meredith’s memoir!
Recovering alcoholics are the best kind! I hope to never become a recovered alcoholic.
<3
Yes, Maureen! No haircuts for awhile with the bushy head of hair all back. I threw out the wig worn to work for months. Everyone seemed to prefer the elegant look of the wig for awhile. But when I arrived one morning with a tiny dirty blond pixie there was a standing ovation. Astonishing. Hair is a big to do.
Wow.
I love everything about this story! 🩷
Very cool. I quit drinking 15 years ago (I'm still a youngster, turning 48 next month), and adjusting to being a "normie" was one of the toughest things I've ever done.
Great interview.
Great interview. THE NEW OLD ME is a poignant delight. I’ve recommended it far and wide.
I had my last (lease God) drink in 1986 . I was already an old lady, though I was 36 years old. Today, I am 74 and to quote Dylan, I was so much older then. I’m younger than that now. This summer I was diagnosed with lung cancer and last week had a lung lobe removed. When I was told about my cancer, the first question I asked the doctor was whether my hair would fall out. I didn’t ask how long I would live. My concern was whether I would be bald when laid to rest. When actively drinking and drugging, I wanted to die. Now after these years of sobriety, I want to live I’m not dying and am not ready to pack it in. I love reading this monthly series. Thanks everyone!
<3
In my head, I hear Bonnie Raitt singing What is Success? It’s an old song but the response to the refrain remains the same “I don’t know.” Why, at 72, do I continue to send my work out? Where’s the need? I have it all – truly. So why? I am not crushed by rejection – mostly heartened to the challenge – what does it matter? I scan the positive ‘no thank yous – but’ keep writing, send me future work. - I do.
Small winter fires to warm my tired hands and I shudder to think when my knee pain eventually reaches my fingers – I’ll have to consider death – only then.
Thank you Meredith for acknowledging the difference in the desire to write and the need to write.
This is such a lovely and honest piece
I love this so so much!! My favorite line, "She and I didn’t last, but my sobriety did." My sobriety saves the day every day no matter what happens. Thank you Meredith - keep coming back!