Self-aware, insightful, creative, and drug-addicted, Sarah has spent the past 3 decades in the alternate pursuits of getting high and fighting to get clean and sober. Sarah is the mother of Annie, a two-year-old girl, a successful painter and modern artist, and a drug addict.

After spending the past several years actively battling her addiction, she is now finding herself trapped in the horrific cycle of relapse. Only this time, the stakes are much higher with her daughter in tow.

Sarah’s story of chaos began as an infant, when her older brother was the victim of a freak hunting accident that resulted in a gunshot wound to his head. While he miraculously survived, the incident left her parents incapable of devoting any attention to their new baby. Her father emotionally detached to avoid dealing with the trauma, and her mother was absorbed in the care and rehabilitation of her brother. Sarah reflected, “I was raised by an elderly couple that lived down the block- my mom dropped me off there every day. I hope they were good to me.”

Her father was a heavy pot smoker and pill-popper and her mother suffered from major depression. She remembered, “There was always pot and alcohol in my house- my dad didn’t even try to hide it.” Her needs were neglected as her parents were consumed by their own addictions and problems. Sarah recalled, “My dad didn’t care as long as I stayed out of trouble.”

Sarah had no structure, routine, or rules. Her dad began having a series of extramarital affairs and when Sarah was 6, her mom attempted suicide and had an extended stay in a psych ward. When her mom was released, she and Sarah’s father divorced and she abandoned her children. Sarah recounted, “After that I had to fend for myself.”

At 8, Sarah was raped by a 14-year-old neighborhood boy. Of that experience, all Sarah can say is, “Where were my parents?” At 12, her dad taught her how to smoke pot, and for the first time in her life she felt comfortable in her skin. Immediately, her addiction took off and she began smoking pot, drinking, and taking pills on a daily basis, all of which she found a ready supply of in her home. She remembers going to middle school so drunk she could hardly stay awake.

One afternoon, she and a few other kids were hanging out with a 35-year-old drug dealer that prowled around the school. He offered her drugs inside of his van, then violently beat her and raped. Again, the rape went undetected by her father or any of the other adults in her life, and of course, unreported.

After a few months, she was kicked out of the 6th grade for failing school and getting into fights. “My dad was furious,” Sarah recalled, “He didn’t care if I ran around or hid in my room getting high, but he hated the public exposure and being called into school.” Sarah ran away from home and her dad didn’t try to find her.

At 14, Sarah was sent to her first (of many) therapeutical correctional facilities. She also attended her first Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. “I was already a full-blown alcoholic and drug addict and I could relate to everything they were saying,” she stated. But she was far from ready to get clean and sober.

At 15, she was arrested for possession of meth-amphetamines. She was sentenced to treatment, and began her cycle of recovery and relapse. She could never pull together more then a few weeks clean, and her addiction progressed rapidly. She began shooting heroin and as with most heroin addicts, she shared needles at times.

By the time she was 25, she had been in treatment over 30 times. That was the year she was also diagnosed with hepatitis C, a viral disease that leads to swelling of the liver, and commonly affects intravenous drug users. It is safe to say that drug addiction or alcohol abuse can only continue to damage the liver and compromise the immune system as the virus continues. Yet for many hard-core addicts, not even the threat of physical deterioration is enough of a motivation to get clean, as was the case with Sarah.

In spite of her addiction, Sarah began to pursue her only passion besides using drugs which was creating art. She enrolled herself in a printmaking course and began creating exquisitely beautiful modern paintings. Her talent did not go unnoticed- she sold many of her pieces and became an established artist in her community. Considering how severe and chronic her addiction was, the fact that she managed to achieve this was an incredible accomplishment.

By the time she was 30, she was completely beaten down by her addiction. She was homeless, isolated, and could no longer work as an artist. She called the one person in her life who could help her- a local clergy person she had known for years, who arranged and paid for her to enter a long term residential treatment facility. Sarah believed she had finally hit rock bottom.

In treatment, Sarah worked diligently on facing all those issues that led to her addiction. She showed up for her twice-weekly therapy appointments, attended 12-step meetings, and was compliant with her medication. She was convinced that she would never return to a life of addiction,

She became reestablished as an artist and had great success. A curator from a major museum showed interest in her work. She began a romantic relationship with another resident, Josh, in the treatment facility. They went to couple’s therapy, worked on their issues, and vowed to do whatever it took to stay sober together.

More then anything, Sarah wanted to have a baby, and made a conscious choice to get pregnant. She felt grounded in her recovery after 18 months of sobriety and felt prepared to raise and nurture a child in sobriety. She  believed that becoming a mother would inoculate her from her addiction. “I thought that moms who drank and used were pieces of shit,” she said with irony. “When I was shooting up, one of my dealers had a baby and hid the baggies and needles in packages of baby wipes. Her baby was always screaming in another room when I would pick up my dope. I knew it wasn’t cool- I was disgusted. I knew it would never be me.”

She consulted with specialists and did research about getting pregnant with hepatitis C. What she learned is that this is generally considered safe and the rate of transmission to an infant is quite low. She new she was at risk for some complications in her pregnancy and would have to have a c-section.

During her last trimester, she developed cholestasis, a liver disease that only happens in pregnancy, where the normal flow of bile in the gallbladder is affected by the high amounts of pregnancy hormones, and often affects women with hepatitis C. She developed the usual symptoms of  itching, fatigue, and depression. She concurrently contracted, MRSA, a serious staph infection, which people with prior liver damage are particularly prone to. At 33 weeks pregnant, she was hospitalized after not sleeping for several days due to the pain and itching.

“I felt so ashamed and guilty because I knew that all of this was because of the hep C- which I got because I shared needles. What a fucking idiot I was,” she said, defaulting to her usual place of self-hatred and shame, emotions that are often as addictive as the drugs that intensify them.

While in the hospital, Sarah was administered sleep and pain medication for her symptoms. Often times, the combination of exhaustion, physical discomfort, and anxiety is enough to trigger a recovering addict into relapse. In Sarah’s case, once the narcotic medication was back in her system, the mental obsession with getting high was reactivated.

Once she was home with her baby, the nasty and insidious cycle of addiction crept back into her life. First, it was narcotic pain pills after the c-section. Then alcohol re-entered the picture, as well as marijuana. She was fully aware that drugs and alcohol are exacerbating her hepatitis C and further destroying her liver, but she still was unable to stop. Her fiancé, Josh, relapsed into addiction as well, after 18 months of sobriety.

Sarah describes those early months as, “Josh and I would take turns on who could get high and who could watch Annie.” Sarah’s worst fear had come true- her daughter was being raised in a home by addicts.

Sarah and Josh decided their problems were geographical, so they moved across the country to Palm Springs. But her addiction tagged along, like a nasty parasite that refused to die in the desert heat. She is now trying to balance motherhood, her career as an artist, and her addiction, which she tells herself is “under control.”

People like Sarah drink and use because they like the effect produced by alcohol and drugs. They become physically and psychologically addicted to these substances. The sensation is so seductive that while they can admit it is harmful, they learn to rationalize their drinking and using. Once they are under the influence, all bets are off. Their actions and behavior are now dictated by the cocktail of substances consumed, and they are powerless to change unless they get sober.

The guilt and shame that alcoholic and drug-addicted moms’ feel is overwhelming. They believe that they are worthless as mothers if they can’t even stay sober for their children. But the truth is, addiction doesn’t care about one’s children, accomplishments, or health. It only cares about getting the addict high, isolated and alone. That is the very essence of the malady. 

While Sarah recognizes that she needs to stop using and drinking for her health, for her relationship with Josh, and most-importantly for her daughter, she still has a wall of denial that is fueling her addiction. She tries to convince herself that because she is not living on the streets and using heroin, things aren’t that bad. But deep down she knows her only hope for herself and her daughter is to get clean and sober again.

You may be questioning how Sarah could truly love her child and behave so selfishly. It is my belief that it is entirely possible for a woman to both love her children and behave recklessly while under the influence of drugs and/or alcohol. Those of us in the recovery world like to say, “Hate addiction, but love the addict”- a tough concept for someone who thinks that willpower alone is enough to for an addict to stop. Being an addict does not make Sarah a bad mother who needs to get “good”; rather, it makes her a sick woman who needed to get well.

Alcoholism and addiction are a force of evil in the world, but there is hope and recovery. Before we condemn one woman who is caught in the vicious cycle of addiction while raising her daughter, perhaps we can feel compassion for a person who, despite all her best intentions, cannot stop ingesting substances that are destroying her life.

I am certain there are women reading this who can relate to parts of Sarah’s story. If you struggle with alcoholism and addiction in your own life, if you look at Sarah and say, “There by the grace of God go I,” do everything in your power to confront your illness head-on and get sober.

Whatever it takes.

I totally get it. Christmas trees are beautiful….the aroma, the sparkly ornaments, the beautifully wrapped presents underneath. I would be lying to say that at this time of the year, there isn’t a small part of me that wishes that I could partake in the Christmas festivities, too. But I don’t because I’m Jewish. 

Many of my Jewish friends celebrate the Christmas season by decorating their homes with a tree, tinsel, and ornaments. Their reasons for doing so are varied- most often, they don’t want their kids to feel “left out”. Personally, I would much rather have my children feel left out then have them not affiliate with Judaism. I also don’t want them to miss the opportunity to embrace religious pluralism.

Even young children can be taught to understand the difference between Judaism and Christianity, and in the real world we sometimes have to tolerate feeling excluded. As parents, we are often tempted to gratify our child’s every desire because we believe that protecting them from frustration or disappointment is effective parenting. 

Quite the contrary- by indulging your child’s desire for a Christmas tree when it is not part of your religion, you are sending them the message that  the true meaning of religion is insignificant and it all boils down to ornaments and ribbons.

Parents also rationalize this choice by asserting that a Christmas tree has nothing to do with religion, rather, it is a symbol of the season. As a Jew, I would be offended if non-Jews lit menorahs because they thought they made pretty candles. And I respect Christianity and its sacred symbols enough to not call a Christmas tree a Hanukkah bush. 

Yes, it can be very challenging. The season is upon us and Christmas decorations have taken over our city streets, malls, and and supermarkets. My five-year-old son, Shane, is captivated by the shiny lights and decorations. When we walked through the mall the other day, he saw a line of children waiting to sit on Santa’s lap.

“Mommy, can we please do Christmas?” he asked, looking longingly at the Christmas tree set up next to Santa, with all the presents circling around it.

I explained to him again that Christmas isn’t our holiday. Of course we can appreciate the beauty of the decorations and enjoy the festivities, but bringing them into our home bastardizes the sanctity of the holiday. Christmas is about the birth of Jesus Christ, not about a cheery man in a red costume who comes down your chimney and gives you presents. 

“It’s because we’re Jewish.”  Shane said.

Yes, it is because we’re Jewish. And during this season, I hope all parents take the opportunity to talk to their children about the true meaning of your holiday.

Drinking and the holidays are pretty common partners. Between now and the New Year a “cup of cheer” can be hazardous for those already dealing with alcoholism and for others who get caught up in the reveling and can’t say no to just one more cup of eggnog punch.

While it is supposed to be a time of joyous reunion with loved ones, unfortunately, the holidays often expose personal problems and family rifts, which lead to heavy drinking.

Here are some tips on how to manage holiday drinking: 

-Avoid Difficult Situations and People: There is no party or person that is worth risking your health over. If you don’t feel like you can’t attend the event without taking a drink (if you are sober) or overindulging (if you are trying to cut back), then don’t go! If you must make an appearance, then “bookend” the party. Call a supportive friend before you go and tell them that our intention is to not drink, and call the same person after you leave to report your progress.

-Don’t Be Afraid to Make Requests or Contribute: it is striking how few non-alcoholic options there are at parties. Whether it’s a work or family function, it is perfectly acceptable to bring non-alcoholic drinks to a party.

-Don’t Forget to Eat: If you are starving when you get to the party, you are much more likely to make poor choices- this applies not only to alcohol but food too! Having something in your system when you consume alcohol greatly reduces its effects. You will be less likely to binge drink if you have a healthy meal with your alcohol.

-Alternate With Non-Alcoholic Drinks: If you decide to drink alcohol, switch to water or a non-alcoholic beverage after your first drink.

-Use the Buddy System: If you’re trying to cut down or eliminate alcohol from your holiday season, seek out a supportive friend who can join you for outings. Knowing you have someone with you who understands your goals will help you keep them.

-Take the Focus off The Alcohol and Put It On the People: One of the benefits of being sober is that you get to authentically relate to people without the illusive connection that the buzz of alcohol provides. Ask your friends and family members how they’re doing and really listen to their responses. See how you can help the host during the party. By keeping busy and helping others, you will stay out of trouble.

-Have an Exit Strategy: Leave the party before it gets too rowdy and plan a fun event afterwards.

-Most Importantly, If You Do Overindulge, Don’t Drive: If despite your best intentions you find yourself tipsy at the end of the night, swallow your pride and don’t endanger lives by getting behind the wheel. No matter what!

-Know When to Get Help: If you’re still having trouble, ask for help. Visit my site at jenniferginsberg.com for more information and to schedule a consultation.

If you answered yes to three or more of these questions, you may have a problem with alcohol or drugs.  There is help available- consider seeking support from a therapist or addiction counselor in order to get a professional evaluation. If you are in the LA area, please email me at jenginsberg1@gmail.com and check out my site at jenniferginsberg.com for more information about my individual, group, and intervention services.

*This survey is not a diagnostic tool and is only to be used for the purposes of self=assessment.

Happy New Year!

Welcome to all of my new subscribers. I am happy to report that my new site, momaddict.com , is up and running! I am aware that many of my readers are more interested in my humor articles, and others are seeking support for alcohol and drug addiction. I will continue posting all of my AngstMom essays on this site, and I will start posting anything related to addiction and alcoholism on MomAddict.com

MomAddict offers resources, articles, and support for all addicts and alcoholics. Please visit my new site and let me know what you think!

Also, my professional site, JenniferGinsberg.com is up as well. If you are interested in learning more about my individual and group services, please check it out!

On of the best pieces of parenting wisdom I ever heard from Betsy Braun Brown, a best-selling author and parenting expert. Out of desperation, I went to her for a consultation. Yes, I know how neurotic and indulgent it may seem to run to a Parenting Expert for advice about how to deal with your four year old! But I was completely frustrated that despite my training as a psychotherapist, I could not figure out how to deal with my sweet, smart, sensitive child who morphed into into a demanding, defiant, contrarian brat the moment we were together.

I asked her, “Why is Shane an angel with everyone but me? His teachers love him…other moms are always saying how well behaved he is….but all I seem to get is the bratty, whiny, worst of him!” 

Betsy replied with a smile, “You are your child’s garbage can. And this will never change.”

I thought of Shane as a newborn hungrily nursing away. When I burped him he spit up in my hair, leaving a big, tangled, wad in the back of my head that I didn’t notice until the next morning when I finally tried to run a brush through it.  Mom equals garbage can.

Shane as a toddler running through the park and finding “treasures” all over, like cigarette butts and  spit out gum, and proudly handing them to me. Mom equals garbage can.

Last Friday night Shane climbed into my bed. “Mommy my tummy hurts” he said, right before he puked all over me. Mom equals garbage can.

Just now he blew his snotty nose and walked right past the actual trash can to hand me his goopy tissue. Mom equals garbage can.

But being a physical garbage can is one thing- I can shower off the puke and dispose of the butts. I have yet to find a receptacle for the emotional barf he spews onto me day after day.

I recently went to his parent-teacher conference, “He is such a sweet and cooperative boy,” his teacher beamed, “He always listens. Enjoy him!” she said.

I got home and asked my sitter, “How was he?”

“Oh, good, Jenny,” she replied, “We always have fun. He never gives me any problems.”

Shane descended on me.”Mommy can I have my vitamins? Not four but five vitamins….because I am going to be five in eleven days. Can I have my Popsicle?”

“Yes to the vitamins, no to the Popsicle. And you always get three vitamins.” I responded, as I always do.

“But whyyyyy?” he whined. “I want five. And I want you to take the training wheels off my bike right now. Don’t forget for my birthday I need a blue Spiderman on my cake- not black or red- but blue, Yes or no?” 

I took a deep breath and said, “Hi Shane, it’s nice to see you.”

H continued, “My birthday is in eleven days, right? I want a Nerf gun, a Donkey Kong DSL, and don’t forget my blue Spiderman cake- not red, not black, but blue!” he repeated.

“Adam,” I screamed across the house to his office, “Has Shane been watching TV with commercials again?”

 ”And a Spiderman pinata and a Spongebob umbrella. Can you get it for me now???”

“Shane,” I said calmly, “I just walked in and I don’t like getting a list of demands the second I see you. Let’s play a game or read a book together.”

He gave me his best scowl and puked out a days worth of latent frustrations and stifled feelings, “I don’t want a book. I don’t want to play a game. Just give me my Popsicle.”

I firmly replied, “No Popsicles before dinner.”

“Then you’re not my mommy anymore. I don’t even love you!” he screamed, and ran to Daddy’s office.

Mom equals garbage can.

I recently went to one of my favorite stores- American Apparel- to do some shopping. I love American Apparel- the unadorned super-soft cotton tees are not only comfortable but cute and cheap. Additionally, the clothes are made in the US and the company employs fair labor practices. Yes, the average age of most of their clientele is 17 years old….but if you subtract my emotional age from my actual age and average it with the age I am in my own mind, I actually fit right in!

When I walked in the other day, the mannequin was wearing a flowy, off the shoulder dress with a cinch belt over black leggings. “I can pull this off,” I thought, momentarily forgetting my true age (35) and lifestyle (either sitting on the floor with my toddler or sprawled on my bed writing in glorified pajamas.)

After I tried on the outfit, the first thing that struck me was the dress was so sheer and drapey that my entire bra was exposed. I called over the retail clerk, a young, Asian, man with purple hair . He was wearing sparkly silver tights, a skin-tight belly shirt, and red, Converse sneakers. His hair was wrapped in a vintage scarf ala Nicole Richie, and his eyeliner and lip-gloss were expertly applied. He actually looked kind of cute- that is if he was a three year old girl playing dress up! But I desperately sought his guidance because he was all I had at the moment.

I looked so many shades of wrong, but was determined to make it work. I tugged a bit at the dress to try to cover up my bra and asked him the only question I could come up with, “Is it supposed to be see- through?” 

He looked at me like I was semi-retarded and rolled his eyes, “You can wear a little cami underneath- but it’s better not to. Sheer is in,” he said as he draped the dress completely off my shoulder.

“But my bra is showing!” I exclaimed, feeling about a thousand years old. 

“That’s the look!” he chastised, “Just get a cuter bra and let it show a little,” I thought my bra was cute. 

I looked at the mannequin, who had clearly never given birth, or if she had she was one of those annoying chicks who only gained 15 pounds in her entire pregnancy. She didn’t even need a bra! She rocked the ensemble- her perfect, hard nipple-less breasts looked smooth and flawless under the translucent dress. The outfit looked perfect on her- flowy and effortless.

I looked at myself –bra straps twisted over my shoulders and the dress draping and gaping in the most unflattering way. The elastic waistband of the leggings hit me in the absolute worst spot on my belly, and that coupled with the sheer dress only accentuated my doughy muffin-top. 

I was a 30-something mom who was desperately trying to regain a piece of who I no longer was.

Perhaps someone should create a mommy mannequin with a realistic body. Because no matter how thin I get, I will always sport a muffin-top. Why don’t mannequins EVER have a muffin top? Or floppy boobs that have endured two pregnancies and the constant sucking and pulling of nursing babies? Because if mannequins had saggy boobs and a muffin top, it would make it so much easier to gauge how something looks without having to go through the humiliation of trying it on! (this last line was shamelessly stolen from Stefanie Wilder-Taylor, www.babyonbored.com )

Maybe it’s time to throw in the towel and admit that I am officially too old for stores like American Apparel and Urban Outfitters. But that kind of admission, especially in this town, feel like defeat. So most days I walk out of my home, teetering the line of cute and trendy verses trying too hard with a hint of desperation.

And at my age, I should certainly know better then to ask the manorexic dude who works at American Apparel for fashion advice!  

It started with a miniature Mr. GoodBar on Halloween night. I mean, Mr. GoodBar is a nostalgic candy- it reminds me of my childhood (circa 1983) walking down to 7-Eleven with my brother Jeff on warm, summer nights. How could I resist perfectly roasted peanuts in creamy, Hershey’s milk chocolate?

Then I moved on to the cute, little Krackle in the shiny, red wrapper. How many calories can a few of those tiny bars have, right? Then I tore through the Funsize Kit-Kats, Sour Apple Nerds, and Lemon Heads. I love, love, love Lemon Heads. Oh yes…how could I forget about the Hershey’s Special Dark, Almond Joy, 3 Muskateers, and Milky Way bars I inhaled in under 30 seconds flat?

No, I am not a stoner (anymore)- though if I was, at least I would have a good excuse. I am an out of control mommy who has ransacked my 4-year-old son’s trick or treat bag.

After Halloween night I allow him to have one candy a day, because I want him to be disciplined and learn self-control. I also don’t want him to eat tons of refined sugar and rot his teeth out. O.k….enough sanctimonious bull-shit. I enforce this rule so there is MORE FOR ME!

This is a blatant case of ,”Do as I say, not as I do,” because after he begrudgingly selects his one, meager treat, I sneak off to my room, hide in a corner, tear through the bag, and furiously rip open the wrappers with my teeth like a wild animal. I pray that no one walks in on the sugar orgy I am indulging in.

this. has. got. to. stop.

As I write this, I am trying to ignore the pile of wrappers beside me. Reese’s Fucking Peanut Butter Cups. Peanut butter is the other man in my life. And who the hell am I to deny that chocolate and peanut butter are two great tastes that taste great together? I will not admit how many I’ve devoured today because then I would have to face the fact that in the span of five minutes I consumed my recommended daily allowance of fat grams for the month.

Why is it that the rest of the year I am barely tempted when I walk down the candy aisle, but come Halloween, those Fun Size candies seduce me to the point of reckless abandon? How can I be such a hypocrite by allowing my son only one candy a day while I am consuming my body weight in fat and sugar? The good news- there are only a few desperate Now n’ Laters and Tootsie Rolls left. Even I, an official Candy Whore, have standards. And I am not yet desperate enough to resort to Tootsie Rolls.

But I am seriously considering a Master Cleanse starting tomorrow! But for now, I could have sworn there was a Mounds Bar in the bottom of that bag!

If you are interested in watching me make an ass of myself on stage, please come watch me perform an original monologue in the play “Expressing Motherhood” at the Lillian Theatre in Hollywood in January. Click here for tickets:

http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/88255

Did you guys know that I graduated from NYU Tisch School Of the Arts with a Degree in Acting? Do you know that this was almost 2 decades ago??? Do you think I remember anything? And how the hell does my classical, Shakespearean training apply to my snarky Angst Mom essays?

Ok… enough angst! I am excited and honored that I was asked to be in this production and I would love if you would come and support me. It has actually been a latent desire of mine for years to get back on the stage, and I am thrilled to have this opportunity to perform an original piece.

And if I suck, please lie to me and tell me I was awesome.