Speech I gave in Baltimore, on May 13th, 2015 at a luncheon to raise funds for Father Martin's Ashley, a local rehab for women
I lost money. (Hundreds of thousands) I lost my self-esteem. I lost my reputation. I lost. And lost. And lost.
Thank you so much for asking me to be here today, and to such an extraordinary event.
Does it stagger anyone else that there’s almost no stigma or shame associated with getting wasted or puking on someone’s shoes? In fact, it’s encouraged. It’s even considered entertaining television to watch people struggle with their addictions.
We live in a society that tells us, over & over, that using is fine. It’s only when you QUIT that you’re judged. It’s only when you QUIT that you’re encouraged to be quiet, to be anonymous. It’s only when you QUIT, and if you’re God Forbid, open about it, or even dare to write a book about it, that suddenly you’re treated as if you’ve done something wrong.
We HAVE to change this. We HAVE to, because whether we like to admit it or not, this is an epidemic, and more and more people are dying.
There are so few diseases that cause the sufferer to become someone worthy of people’s derision, causes them to hurt the people they love most, act in ways they themselves know is destroying them, and where there is so little support out there for those that suffer from it. Mental illness, eating disorders, and addiction. Or, as I like to call it, the trifecta of Judgement.
Social media has been a fascinating & powerful way to connect with those still suffering. I admit, my reason for joining Twitter was to promote my book. Which it has.
But I’ve been staggered by the DELUGE of people reaching out to me, sharing the dark secrets they’ve carried in shame for years. I never could have imagined how many people are in so much pain & just need to connect with someone who won’t judge them.
Many of those people are sober today, not because of me. THEY did that.
But because I listened, didn’t judge, and shared with them any information I possibly could, maybe they felt that they weren’t worthless.
It is, without exception, the greatest thing I’ve ever witnessed in my whole life.
And it shows you that anger, hatred, secrets, judgement & “Just Say NO” might NOT be the best way to navigate this horrific epidemic.
Of course, like anything, there’s a dark side to it as well. As an addict who’s “out,”I often get slammed with people’s bitterness & anger.The worst part is, every single day I read something that underscores how misunderstood addiction is, and how far we still have to go.
For example, here's an actual interaction from just the other day:
I wrote: “I bet if Ebola killed 100 Americans a day we’d be FLIPPING out. Yet drugs kill that many, MOST of them r TEENS.”
Which inspired someone to respond with: “Can't choose Ebola. Can choose not to do drugs."
I wrote back: “Many think this. It's untrue. Addiction is a brain disease, has been for 40 years. Please research”
His response: “Addiction equals weakness. Nothing more.”
What’s disturbing isn’t really the exchange itself, what’s disturbing is how often I have it. No matter where I am, over & over, every single day, sometimes many times a day, I hear the same thing….people tell me addiction is weakness, a choice, addicts are stupid, lazy, selfish.
I couldn’t begin to estimate how many times I’ve been accused of calling addiction a disease as an excuse, because I’m incapable of accepting any responsibility for my choices.
It doesn’t matter to these people that the medical community long ago labeled addiction a disease, and did so before my own parents were even born. Despite reams of articles written by brilliant scientists who spend their lives researching addiction, millions of books, articles, blogs, all available on the internet…They're wrong.
These people know the truth. And the truth is…addiction is a moral failing that only happens to the weak.
While my 1st instinct might be to verbally throttle these people, I know that this is an opinion shared by a huge portion of society. Including my mother.
So I try not to lecture, or rattle off stats. That doesn’t work.
I try not to get angry, because that only closes minds, which is the opposite of what I want.
All I ask of people is to just try to open their minds to the concept that we might have a differently wired brain than they do.
You see, it's up to us.
It’s urgent we reach people, because we’ve moved past epidemic.
We’re now in the bulls-eye of one of the worst health disasters of the century, and without question the death toll has reached crisis levels.
I feel compelled to try to open people’s minds to the reality of this, and the true devastation it causes.
So many lives cut down way too young.
So much loss, even for those in recovery.
I lost forever the chance to give birth. I lost a wonderful man who loved me. I lost many incredible friends. I lost jobs.
I stopped many, many times. I’m a very strong-willed person. And I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t ever really stop.
I knew nothing of recovery, I had no examples of someone who had successfully stopped & was proud of their life.
Racking my brain, all I could ever seem to come up with were these 2 options:
I could quit & spend the rest of my life miserable in a church basement, complaining to a bunch of sad sacks, desperately wishing I was high….
or I could keep using and die.
I chose death every single time, no hesitation.
For years I believed I was a miserable, selfish, self-hating monster.
And in many ways, I was.
In the 8 years since I've gotten sober, I’ve worked very hard to become a good human being. I do everything I possibly can to help addicts and remove some of the stigma associated with this terrible disease. I speak all over the country. I’m trying to give a voice to the voiceless, and show people that recovery is possible. That not all addicts (or, for that matter, actresses) are selfish, spoiled brats without the willpower to face real life. I’m still deeply flawed, in fact, one of the reasons recovery is so difficult is because suddenly you have to deal with the REASONS you used, the harm you caused...and as many in this room can attest, it aint pretty.
But most of all, what has absolutely staggered me, is how many have been suffering in silence for so long.
Addiction is so misunderstood, so misrepresented, so embarrassing, such a secret to so many that I’m terrified that nothing will change unless WE START TALKING ABOUT IT. There are so many misguided, misinformed people out there, that even those who claim they want to “help” addicts can do terrible damage.
In fact, one of the most ironic, mortifying, and enraging events of my entire life occurred to me a month ago, after I spoke at a luncheon just like this one.
Normally, I never accept speaking engagements while shooting my TV show ‘the exes’, for obvious reasons. I also was diagnosed last year with Lupus Myelitis, and even though I am thankfully in remission, I do get exhausted very easily. My health & sobriety take priority over EVERYTHING, so I’m very careful not to overextend myself. (Believe me, a very new concept for me.)
Unfortunately, life isn’t always tidy, and because these events have to book speakers many months in advance, sometimes the schedule gets complicated. Therefore, due to scheduling changes beyond my control, it turned out this event landed smack dab in the middle of work. I wanted to cancel, badly...but it was too late. I couldn’t do it to them. Besides, it seemed like a wonderful organization, and they would pay me a nice fee, which, I always donate most of to SLAM, the non-profit I founded to create NYC’s first recovery high school.
Plus, I wanted to be a good sober girl.
I arrived the night before the event, exhausted, and was driven 45 minutes right from the airport to the VIP party. The instant we pulled up, a woman came out to the driveway to greet me. “You’re LATE.”
What a welcome! This rude woman was the organizer of the annual lunch (let’s call her Carol.)
The entire evening felt a bit like a dog & pony show, and I was the pony. While there, I did meet someone very special, who changed everything. The hostess of the party had a 14 year old daughter, who offered to give me a tour of their stunning home.
We sat on the dock for a bit, and she shared with me that she was really struggling. She had started at a new school earlier that year, and was being bullied mercilessly for her height & her love of reading. I fell in love with this sweet, smart, lonely girl. When I found out she would be at the luncheon the next day, I asked Carol as well as her mom if it would be okay if I threw out the speech I’d written, and read a 12-page chapter from GUTS instead. This chapter, called “The Freak Has Landed” was about how I was bullied in grade school because of my height & love of books.
They both agreed that it was a great idea.
I even warned Carol that there were a few swear words (I think I say shit twice). She said “great!”
The next day, I gave a press conference, and then the luncheon began. After a few awards were given, it was my turn. The chapter normally takes 20 minutes for me to read a loud, but I edited it the night before. I couldn’t have been up there much longer than 15 minutes.
While reading the chapter, my legs started feeling wobbly (which they do from time to time due to my Lupus, especially if I stupidly wear heels). Since there was a small step near the podium on the stage, I perched on that.
I was almost to the end when suddenly, the host walked onstage, clearly cutting me off. I was stunned.
I said “But there are only 2 paragraphs left.”
From the audience, Carol started unenthusiastically clapping. I was dismissed.
Humiliated, I was escorted to the lobby to sign my book, however since people were still in luncheon, I sat alone in the lobby for 15 minutes.
I’m not proud of the fact that I burst into tears. I felt disrespected confused and angry. I tried to address it with Carol in the elevator, but she literally rolled her eyes at me. I was totally baffled. What the hell is going on?
I got on the next flight back to LA & back to my real life, my true friends, my amazing job.
I decided to just forget the whole luncheon thing.
The next day, I skimmed a lovely article written about the event in the state’s paper someone had sent me.
It wasn’t until the 2nd day that I finally understood Carol’s disgust. That same writer from the day before wrote a new article on the event, and the tone of this one was VERY different. Asserting that I was “in disarray,” “a mess” that I swore incessantly, I sat on the edge of the stage, and I rambled on from my book for 45 minutes.
Carol added comments so cruel they took my breath away. They all but flat-out accused me of being wasted.
The entire tone was judgmental, cutting and vicious. The worst part is, no one even bothered to call me for a comment.
When my manager, (who had spoken to Carol 100s of times that week alone) called her, furious, Carol explained that they were all very worried about me.
Which of course makes TOTAL sense. I mean, if I’m ever concerned about someone’s sobriety, why try to connect with someone close to them who cares about their well being (in this case, my manager.)
Instead, I’d go straight to the press & eviscerate their character…I mean, really. Which is more helpful?
That’s when I realized I will always pay a price for once being an addict.
Now, I’ll cop to being exhausted, not wanting to be there. I’ll admit it was NOT my finest hour.
But to many, I’m no longer allowed a shitty day, to be tired, to have lupus, or swear. If so, the conclusion is immediate and swift: “She’s relapsed.”
When the story hit, because I was an addict for so long, and lied for so many years, I knew that any denial on my end would be laughable. I can’t begin to estimate the thousands of lies I told & denials I made for decades…so I didn’t even bother.
I will say this, however: I may relapse, God Forbid. It’s a terrifying & very real possibility for EVERY addict. However, if I ever do relapse, I deeply hope I’d have the grace not to show up high at a RECOVERY EVENT.
The impact of this article was grave, and I’ll tell you why:
Not only did it absolutely crush me, and really upset countless people in recovery and friends who left messages, reached out to me on social media, & via email, panicked that I had relapsed.
Despite 8 years of recovery, I was suddenly thrust back in time, and I felt just like I did all those years ago: guilty, silent, full of shame, and utterly helpless. A pill-popping lush. That’s when I remembered what someone in the program once said to me...”You can’t control what others think of your recovery.” That’s when suddenly struck me: I’m not that person anymore. I know who I am. I know what I did & didn’t do. I know myself, and trust myself, finally.
And, at the end of the day, that’s all that matters.
So, I got over it. The reason it was so grave is the impact it could’ve had by those struggling with addiction who happened to read that utter dreck. I couldn’t help but imagine them thinking “Well, now I can never tell a soul. If this is how an organization supportive of addiction speaks about someone they think has relapsed? How could I ever tell my parents, friends, co-workers? If this lady is so disgusted, I can't bear to see what their reaction would be.”
So, just from this one article, they continue to suffer in silence. Just one little article.
Since then, I’ve often wondered how many were harmed by the article? And how on earth people can be so cruel? I mean, let’s say, for arguments sake, that I had in fact relapsed. My God, where’s the kindness? The empathy? The compassion? Especially from those who should know better?
It just astounded me. But it also lit a fire.
How can so little be known about a public health crisis as massive as addiction?
Where are all the fundraisers, the charity balls, the angry marches, the fiery speeches from capitol?
Where’s our goddamn quilt?
My initial reaction was to vow that I would honor my commitment here in Baltimore, and then never do it again. I mean, I may not be in Mensa, but I’m no dummy.
But after a bit, I changed my mind. You can write, or say anything you want about me, you can try to destroy my reputation, question my sobriety, toss hate at me and tell me to keep my mouth shut like a good little sober girl.
Guess what? I won’t.
Kristen Johnston