Two Stories About Recovery That Hit Differently This Week
On Monday, I heard about two very different stories involving two very famous people. Both made me think about recovery, sobriety, addiction, and something those of us around recovery learn pretty quickly:
There is no finish line.
The first story was about Brad Pitt.
I haven't talked to Brad Pitt. He hasn't called me lately. We haven't grabbed coffee. And until he invites me over to hang out, I can only go by what he actually said publicly.
In a recent Esquire interview, Pitt talked about having been sober for seven years and then deciding to drink again. He described his drinking now as being more restrained and acknowledged that there have already been a couple of occasions when he realized larger quantities weren't good for him.
This is also the same Brad Pitt who publicly thanked Bradley Cooper in 2020 for helping him get sober.
I'm not here to judge Brad Pitt's decision.
Recovery is personal. What works—or doesn't work—for Brad Pitt is Brad Pitt's business.
But his story caught my attention because I've heard versions of it before.
I've sat in meetings and heard people talk about having years of sobriety before eventually deciding they didn't need recovery anymore.
Maybe things were different now.
Maybe enough time had passed.
Maybe they had learned their lesson.
Maybe this time they could drink like a "normal" person.
And sometimes it started exactly that way.
Moderately.
One drink.
A glass of wine with dinner.
Only on vacation.
Only on weekends.
Until it wasn't moderate anymore.
Those are the stories I've heard. That doesn't mean Brad Pitt's story will end the same way. I don't know him, and neither I nor anyone else should pretend we know what his future holds.
But it reminds me why recovery asks us to focus on today.
Not seven years from now.
Not seven years ago.
Today.
Then There Was Hayden Panettiere
The second story was much harder to hear.
Actress Hayden Panettiere died at 36 in Greenville, South Carolina.
I knew her work. I watched Remember the Titans. I watched I Love You, Beth Cooper. I watched Scream 4.
She was somebody I'd seen on a screen for years.
She had also spoken publicly about struggles with addiction and depression.
According to authorities, Panettiere was found unresponsive and in cardiac arrest. Emergency responders attempted to resuscitate her, but she was pronounced dead. An autopsy reportedly found no trauma that contributed to her death.
At the time I'm writing this, her official cause and manner of death have not been determined. Toxicology results are still pending.
That's important.
I'm not going to declare that addiction caused her death when investigators haven't determined that.
I'm not going to turn someone's death into speculation.
But hearing about her death still made me think about recovery.
Because I've seen what addiction can do.
I've known people who got frighteningly close to dying.
I've known people who came back.
And I've known people who didn't.
There Is a Solution
That's really why I'm writing this.
Not because Brad Pitt decided to drink again.
Not because we know what caused Hayden Panettiere's death.
I'm writing it because somebody reading this might be struggling right now.
Someone might be wondering whether they really have a problem.
Someone might have been sober for years and be thinking, Maybe I've got this figured out now.
Someone might have relapsed yesterday and believe they've thrown everything away.
Someone else might be sitting alone thinking there isn't another way.
There is.
Recovery isn't reserved for celebrities.
It isn't reserved for people with money.
It isn't reserved for people who haven't relapsed.
It isn't reserved for someone who has reached some imaginary "bottom."
You don't have to wait until everything is gone.
You don't have to wait until your family gives up.
You don't have to wait until you're sitting in a hospital.
You don't have to wait until you're dying.
There is a solution.
There are meetings. There are treatment programs. There are professionals. There are recovery communities filled with people who understand exactly what it feels like to wonder how the hell life got to this point.
And there are people willing to help.
Sometimes the hardest part is simply admitting:
I can't do this by myself anymore.
You don't have to.
Whether someone has seven hours, seven days, seven months, or seven years, recovery still happens the same way.
Today.
Then tomorrow, we try to do it again.
There is a solution, and it's available to all.
Peace, Serenity... and the World's Longest Car Horn
Today I was reminded that peace and serenity aren't destinations—they're things I have to keep practicing every single day.
I've shared this story before, but it still makes me laugh... and cringe.
On my way home from my initial retina detachment consultation in Hanahan, South Carolina, traffic came to a complete crawl. Bumper-to-bumper. I was actually doing fine with it. Traffic happens.
Then someone decided the shoulder was their own personal VIP lane.
They flew past everyone who had been patiently waiting and squeezed right in front of me.
At that exact moment, my serenity clocked out for the day.
I didn't give a polite courtesy honk.
I didn't tap the horn to let them know I was there.
I introduced them to the entire catalog of my car horn.
And I kept introducing it.
For so long... that I literally wore out my car horn.
Yes... I broke my horn.
I actually heard it take its last breath.
I'm pretty sure if my BMW could talk, it would've said, "Niel... buddy... enough already."
I estimate I was honking continuously for at least 15 minutes.
The person who cut me off probably forgot about me after 30 seconds.
Meanwhile, I was apparently auditioning to be the Low Country Symphony's first horn section.
Looking back, it's hilarious.
It's also a little wild.
For me, that's what alcoholism can look like today. It isn't that I'll pick up a drink—that was never my first thought, and recreational drugs weren't my thing either. Instead, it can show up as anger, self-righteousness, and reacting in ways that make absolutely no sense.
I've never repaired the horn.
Not because I don't have the time.
Not because I don't have the money.
I haven't fixed it because, in my mind, I haven't yet truly learned how to share the road with other people. Until I make more progress on that, the broken horn serves as a daily reminder that I still have work to do.
Recovery isn't about becoming perfect.
It's about recognizing when I'm the problem, owning it, laughing at myself when appropriate, and trying to do a little better tomorrow than I did today.
Recently, an awesome friend from one of my recovery meetings thought of me. She knows this story. She knows I still wrestle with the rage that can pop up out of nowhere—and she knows I've been driving around with a silent horn ever since.
She surprised me with the perfect gift.
I laughed immediately.
Now I need to mount it on my dashboard.
If you want to see what she gave me—and hear some of the hilarious things it says—head over to:
Oh... and before anyone points it out, ignore the lack of manicure in the video. Dialysis, life, and recovery have been keeping me just a little busy.
Who knew one broken horn would become one of my biggest recovery reminders?
Life has a funny way of teaching us lessons.
Sometimes those lessons arrive with a whisper.
Sometimes they arrive with 15 minutes of uninterrupted honking.
Thanks for reading, and if this story made you smile—or reminded you of one of your own moments of insanity—leave a comment. I'd love to hear it.
Join the discussion on NielFlamm.com.
Recovery, Flow State, and the Present
One of the blogs on A Godd3ss3s Cr3ation really resonated with me.
The idea of living in a Flow State reminds me of recovery. Early on, I spent too much time replaying yesterday or worrying about tomorrow. Recovery taught me to focus on today.
It also reminds me of one of my favorite quotes from Kung Fu Panda:
"Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it's called the present."
Whether it's recovery, dialysis, or everyday life, I can't change yesterday or control tomorrow. All I can do is make the best of today.
Read the original Flow State blog at https://agodd3ss3scr3ation.com/blog.