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Treat Red Bull Like Alcohol and Cigarettes

I’m an avid consumer of sugar-free Red Bull and have been known to down more than one can a day. I see it as one of the only vices I have left after quitting booze, flour and sugar a few years back. So when I saw online protests about the government looking to regulate the sale of such energy drinks, I balked.

Mood music:

I was originally going to write a post blasting government for trying to control us yet again. Then I read about ER visits skyrocketing and children dying. According to ABC News:

Fourteen-year-old Anais Fournier of Hagerstown died in December of 2011 after drinking two 24-ounce Monster Energy drinks. Her family is suing that company. Fournier had a heart condition — her family’s attorney, Kevin Goldberg, tells ABC-2 News one problem is that many children are too young to have ever gotten that diagnosis.  And consuming highly-caffeinated beverages is like pouring gasoline on a fire they don’t even know is there. The US Department of Health and Human Services found that in 2007, there were about 10,000 emergency room visits related to energy drinks.  By 2010 that number doubled to 20,000.

As a confessed addict, I know it’s ultimately my choice whether to consume the stuff that drives me to madness. My addictive behavior has historically centered around binge eating. I started using wine as a crutch when I decided to bring the binge eating to heel. More than a year after quitting booze, I started smoking again to keep from taking a drink. And so the vicious cycle goes.

Today I cling to my caffeine and e-cigs. Not what one would call a solution, but I consider these the lesser evils of addiction.

The government can regulate food and drink all it wants. If you’re an addict hell-bent on getting your fix, you will find a way. That belief has driven much of what I’ve written about past efforts at regulation. But I’ve come to realize the bit about energy drinks is different.

Red Bull, Monster, Rock Star and other drinks are sold out in the open in any convenience store, right next to the Gatorade and Pepsi. There’s no age restriction on making the purchase that I know of. Energy drinks come in cans with cool, sleek artwork and color schemes, which attracts kids as a red cloth would attract a raging bull. That’s how you get deaths like that of Anais Fournier.

The government would be going way overboard if it decided to ban these drinks outright. But there are simple measures I think would be fair. For example:

  • Put the energy drinks in the same refrigerated cases and sections as the alcoholic products.
  • Sell them behind the counter, just like the tobacco products.

Those moves wouldn’t cut off my access to Red Bull. But it would control access to children, and I’m fine with that.

Red Bull

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Dennis Wilson and the Manson Family

As someone long fascinated by the Manson Murders case, I’ve taken a special interest in the late Dennis Wilson, drummer of The Beach Boys and one-time friend of Charles Manson.

His time with Manson scarred his mind and soul for the rest of his life, something that’s evident if you listen to the entirety of his solo album from the ’70s, Pacific Ocean Blue.

The story of Dennis Wilson is an extreme case study in what happens when you make sex, drugs and booze the center of your world. In this case, it’s the story of a guy whose off-the-rails pleasure seeking led him into the baddest of the bad crowds. His troubles began when he picked up two girls who were hitchhiking on the side of the road. He took them home and had sex with them, and in short order the entire Manson clan moved into his house.

One of those girls, Patricia Krenwinkel, would end up with a lot of blood on her hands, participating in two nights of murder, first at the home of Sharon Tate and then at the home of Leno and Rosemary LaBianca.

Wilson didn’t mind having the family around at first. They provided him with a steady supply of sex and drugs. Manson wanted to use Wilson’s connections as a way into the music industry so he could become a recording star and spread his apocalyptic visions in his songs. He particularly wanted help from Terry Melcher, son of Doris Day.

Wilson introduced them and there was talk of a record contract, but Melcher was immediately creeped out by Manson and never came through on the promises Manson claims he made. Melcher was the resident of 10050 Cielo Drive immediately before Sharon Tate moved in, and though Manson knew Melcher was no longer living there, the speculation is that he picked that house to scare Melcher.

Long after Manson and his core followers went to prison, guilt continued to eat away at Wilson. He had something of a career comeback as a solo artist, but his substance abuse continued until late December 1983, when he drowned.

I sympathize with Wilson. Having had my own bouts of addictive behavior, I’ve always considered myself lucky that I was able to find my footing, remember where my priorities belonged and ditched the friends who were most likely to get me into trouble. Many are not so lucky, and when your soul is damaged all the money in the world won’t fix it.

Below is the first in a series of YouTube videos called “Cease to Exist.” It tells the story of Wilson and the Manson family in details never before covered, giving viewers a deeper insight into the world of addiction and depression. I highly recommend you watch the whole thing when you have time.

Wilson and Manson

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Return From the Overeaters Anonymous Wilderness

Last summer I wrote a post about being lost in the Overeaters Anonymous wilderness, filled with discontent and a fair amount of self-righteousness. I have no regrets. We all need to step back from time to time and reevaluate pieces of our lives. Now that I’ve done that, I’ve decided to return from the wilderness.

Mood music:

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I’ve made peace with what I see as the program’s imperfections, and I’ve gained the wisdom to understand that it’s not about the egos who show up and periodically annoy me (as I’m sure I’ve annoyed others). It’s not all about simply abstaining from binging, either, though controlling the food is certainly of vital importance.

The biggest reason I’ve returned is that I need the 12 steps of recovery to help me keep my head screwed on properly. A couple of weeks ago, I got a new sponsor. Yesterday, I attended my first OA meeting in a long time.

Related content: Resources for those with eating disorders

I’ve mostly stuck with the food plan a previous sponsor helped me carve out when I first decided to tackle this monster in 2008, but it’s becoming clear that the plan needs some major adjustments. To fix that, I’m going to see a nutritionist.

In recent weeks I’ve felt adrift, more inclined to enter a stupor over things I can’t control. I forgot that I have to put my trust in God.

Break time is over.

Overeaters Anonymous Medallions

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A New Addiction Takes Hold

During my vacation this week, I’ve been playing a lot of guitar. I picked the instrument back up over the summer after a 20-year break, and I haven’t looked back. My addictive personality has latched onto it like a starving lamprey. But it may be one of the best outlets I’ve ever had for calming the mind.

Mood music:

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I now own two electric guitars and an acoustic. I’ve acquired a Marshall amp and a multi-effects pedal. Sean calls me a guitar hoarder.

I’ve been taking guitar lessons, and my instructor has taught me songs like Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love,” the Kinks’ “You Really Got Me” and Van Halen’s “Ain’t Talkin ‘Bout Love.” I learned a few on my own, too: “Foolin'” and “Hysteria” from Def Leppard, “Rock You Like a Hurricane” from The Scorpions and several Black Sabbath riffs.

I’ve also been putting together chords that sound good to me, which will lead to some songwriting of my own in short order.

I’ve learned a lot of mindfulness techniques in recent months, and all have helped. But the guitar playing is the tool I don’t have to throw a lot of concentration into. The action itself soothes.

Binge eating used to soothe me, but only for the first few minutes. Then shame followed. Smoking was soothing, but it smelled terrible and was making me a time bomb for cancer. The e-cigs — vaping, as it’s now called — help, but the idea is to eventually stop that habit, too. It’s a temporary crutch.

Read more about what the addictive process is like in “Anatomy of a Binge.”

The guitar sustains me for much longer, without the shameful, smelly byproducts.

It’s an addiction I think I can live with.

Bill's guitars

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Mindy McCready and the ‘Celebrity Rehab’ Curse

CNN doesn’t say so directly, but in its follow-up coverage of country singer Mindy McCready’s death, it suggests that those who appear on Celebrity Rehab are cursed.

Mood music:

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The report notes that McCready is the fifth Celebrity Rehab alum to die in the last two years. She follows former Alice In Chains bassist Mike Starr, Real World cast member Joey Kovar, Grease actor Jeff Conaway and Rodney King, who had been beaten by police in 1991, to the grave. McCready’s death is especially horrific. The mother of two shot herself to death on the front porch, the same spot David Wilson, her boyfriend and father of her children, committed suicide a month ago.

Many people watch Celebrity Rehab to laugh over the wreckage of celebrity lives. We see these people at rock bottom, slaves to their addictions. Their money has run out, their careers have crashed and burned and they can’t stop from embarrassing themselves in public.

When we laugh at the spectacle, it’s usually over the relief that it’s not us on the TV. Some viewers have sympathy, while others make heartless, tasteless jokes about how the mighty have fallen.

Some people have suggested that the show’s host, Dr. Drew Pinsky, is presiding over a Hollywood circus, showing off the freaks to an eager public, so to speak. But that’s not how I see it.

Pinsky has seen a lot of his famous friends die at the hands of addiction and the underlying mental illness, and his stated goal is to show people just how terrible a disease this is. He told CNN:

One of my hopes was, in bringing ‘Celebrity Rehab’ out, was to teach people how dangerous addiction was. … If I was doing a show on cancer, there would not be much surprise when my cancer patient died. In fact, we’d celebrate a few years of good quality life. People don’t understand that addiction has virtually the same prognosis. If you have other mental health issues on top of that, it’s so much worse. …

There’s a cautionary tale here about the stigma of mental illness and the way in which the public attack celebrities who take care of themselves. … [McCready] became so fearful of the stigma and the way people were responding to her being hospitalized that she actually checked herself out prematurely. … She is a lovely woman, we have lost her, and it didn’t have to go down like this.

Having followed Pinsky’s work over the years, I think his efforts are sincere and useful.

We see celebrities crashing and burning on TV, but countless people from all walks of life suffer these horrors every minute of every day. We can’t help them unless we know the behaviors to look for. Pinsky and the people who have been on his show have given us quite an education.

I hope we don’t waste it on mere gawking.

Dr. Drew and Mindy McCready

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I Was Wrong About Lance Armstrong

A few months ago I wrote a post called “Lance Armstrong Was Robbed,” in which I opined that he didn’t deserve to be stripped of his seven Tour de France titles. I’m back to tell you I was wrong.

Like most Americans, I’m a sucker for stories about people who overcome serious adversity to achieve great things. Those stories have given me the extra push I needed over the years to bring my own demons to heel. That Armstrong won seven titles didn’t matter to me as much as the fact that he did it after beating testicular cancer. I also argued that the use of performance-enhancing drugs was beside the point; that without the raw talent and drive, all the drugs on Earth wouldn’t have pushed him to seven victories. Rightly or wrongly, I still believe that.

But I’ve had a change of heart about him being robbed after reading about his interview with Oprah Winfrey, in which he admitted to the doping. In fact, he reportedly told her that he started using performance-enhancing drugs to gain an edge in cycling in the mid-1990s — before he was diagnosed with cancer. USA Today reveals that Armstrong engaged in a cover-up that involved “attacking anyone who implicated him.”

According to the article, Armstrong’s admission that he started doping in the mid-1990s is consistent with the evidence revealed in October by the US Anti-Doping Agency.

Nobody likes to be wrong. But admitting you were wrong is better than attacking those who question you, especially when it becomes painfully clear to everyone that you’re covering something up.

I’d rather be a rational human being who can have a change of heart in the face of facts than a stubborn person whose pride won’t allow him to see the truth.

Lance Armstrong, 2005 Tour de France
Photo Credit: Joel Saget, AFP/Getty Images
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Hostess Was My Main Dope Supplier

A lot of people are sad this morning because Hostess, maker of Twinkies, Ding Dongs and Wonder Bread, is going out of business after striking workers failed to heed a Thursday deadline to return to work. That’s the company’s official line, anyway.

Mood music:

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Me? I feel badly that 18,500 workers are getting laid off, though I suspect some other company will swoop in and buy Hostess for a song. The world needs its cream filling, after all.

But part of me would be glad to see the company go for a simple reason: As a compulsive binge eater who once ballooned up to 280-plus pounds because of the addiction, Hostess cakes were essentially my crack cocaine. I’d go into gas stations and buy up most of their Twinkies and both the chocolate and yellow cupcakes.

By going out of business, Hostess gives me one less thing to worry about going forward. No Hostess, no binge food.

Of course, it’s not that simple.

I’d simply binge on something else if it came to that. And McDonald’s was always number 1 in my binge book anyway.

Still, I think I can now relate to the feeling heroin and coke addicts got every time a drug lab got blown up during the ill-fated war on drugs. I can picture some junkies worrying about their supply drying up and going on a stockpiling craze.

That’s surely going to be the case with Hostess addicts. Expect a run on all their products at your local grocery store.

The good news is that with all the preservatives in those things, the supply you manage to hoard will never go bad.

Twinkies

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Starting Over

In a lot of ways, I feel like I’ve been starting everything over this past week. Not in big, drastic ways, but in little ways that will hopefully add up to something good.

Mood music:

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There’s the afternoon tea I’ve been drinking instead of Red Bull and more coffee. There’s the meditation and yoga. And there’s the significant tightening of my food plan.

What’s the reason for all this?

I attribute some of it to the mindfulness-based stress reduction course I’m taking. I’m not sure it’s gotten me to the point of a sharper attention span and ability to live every minute in the moment, but the tools I’m learning are designed to get me there eventually.

The food clean-up is more about getting back on the horse after months adrift in the Overeater’s Anonymous wilderness. I never slipped back into the pattern of binge eating, but I was certainly getting sloppy. I was using way too much cheese for protein. On the last shopping trip I stocked up on salmon to use instead. Erin asked if this was my latest obsession. It’s really just me getting back to basics. I still haven’t returned to the OA meetings or gotten a sponsor, but one thing at a time.

My return to guitar playing has definitely been a factor. When I play I’m right in the moment, where I should be. I realized I play better when drinking tea than when drinking coffee. The chords are steadier and cleaner when I’m not on coffee overload. Another example of one good habit leading to another.

It’s fitting that all this is happening in the autumn. It’s usually the time of year when my mood and grip on life start to slip. Making changes this time of the year is turning out to be a powerful thing.

It’s also fitting because autumn four years ago was when I first decided my worst addictions had to stop owning me. That’s when I kicked flour and sugar and started weighing out my food. A year later I was done with alcohol.

Temptations still come and go. But the key is to take it a day at a time and get back on the horse when you fall off.

That’s what I’m learning, anyway. Hopefully, all of this will continue.

Reset Button

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Halloween Ho-Hum

Some of my friends go bonkers for Halloween. They run an endless torrent of zombie apocalypse memes on Facebook. They revere the holiday above Christmas and Easter. Good for them. It’s more of a ho-hum holiday for me.

Mood music:

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It would be easy to tell you I’m down on Halloween this year because so many people are suffering this day from the damage Hurricane Sandy left them with. But the truth is that this has never been one of my favorites. For a compulsive binge eater, this holiday and the days that follow tend to be a real nightmare.

I stopped eating Halloween candy four years and one month ago, but when the kids come home with trick-or-treat bags bulging, the temptation remains powerful. If you were a cocaine addict and your kitchen was surrounded by massive mounts of blow, you might feel the way I’m feeling about now.

I do have much to be thankful for. I used to binge on my kids’ candy for days and weeks after Halloween. By the end of November I’d be a pile of waste, bloated and depressed. That hasn’t happened for the last few years, even though my program isn’t quite where it should be.

I guess past memories are hard to shake, though.

Oh, well.

I’m still happy to see my kids and friends taking joy in Halloween. More power to them.

As for me, I just might go back to bed.

Rotten Pumpkin

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Reefer Madness: Vote Yes on Question 3

When Massachusetts residents go to the polls this November 6, they’ll have the opportunity to vote on the Massachusetts Medical Marijuana Initiative, also known as Question 3. If voters approve the initiative, medical marijuana will be decriminalized in my home state. I’m in favor of this for a variety of reasons.

Mood music:

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For my fellow Massachusetts residents, here’s how the question will appear on the ballot:

A YES VOTE would enact the proposed law eliminating state criminal and civil penalties related to the medical use of marijuana, allowing patients meeting certain conditions to obtain marijuana produced and distributed by new state-regulated centers or, in specific hardship cases, to grow marijuana for their own use.

A NO VOTE would make no change in existing laws.

Supporters of the initiative include the American Civil Liberties Union, the Massachusetts Patient Advocacy Alliance and the Committee for Compassionate Medicine. Opponents include Dr. James B. Broadhurst, a Worcester doctor who treats people with addictions. He says the ballot initiative contains a gaping loophole that would allow a physician to prescribe medical marijuana for just about any debilitating medical condition. He’s part of a coalition called the Massachusetts Medical Society, formed in opposition to Question 3.

As a recovering addict, I respect Broadhurst’s concerns. Undoubtedly there will be those who easily talk their doctors into prescribing marijuana for whatever ails them. But that’s not reason enough to stop this.

I’m a food addict in recovery. If certain foods I’m addicted to had been illegal when I was abusing them, I would still have found a way to get them. Prohibition didn’t stop the flow of alcohol for addicts or anyone else in the 1920s. Moonshine simply became an easy way for mobsters to get rich.

Addicts will do whatever it takes to satisfy the demon, and plenty of people are willing to make money to help them do it.

Given that, we should do more than legalize marijuana just for medical purposes. We should legalize it altogether.

I’m not for legalizing the hard drugs, like cocaine, heroin and other narcotics. The effect those drugs have on the user are a lot more insidious and violent.

Pot is in a much lower class. It can turn the user into an incoherent blob of uselessness, but so can alcohol and the massive quantities of junk food a compulsive overeater ingests.

Most importantly, though, if medical marijuana can ease the pain of people suffering from a litany of dreadful maladies, I’m all for it.

I don’t have all the answers. I just have my opinion based on personal experience. If you want to try to sway me, the floor is now open for discussion.


“Pothead,” by Bob Dob