NEWS
By Ernest F. Imhoff | May 14, 1998
A middle-aged computer analyst related a string of personal woes to the circle of 16 people recovering from what they said were patterns of self-destructive behavior.His problem is compulsive anger, expressed over the slightest things. He would say mean things to those around him and maybe throw things. He had been trying to remain calm over recent setbacks but the ugly anger was returning. He said he needed help.His listeners are used to baring their souls. The colleagues say they ate too much, ate too little, got too angry, worked too much, became too anxious and became too controlling or too meek in relationships.
NEWS
By Joan Jacobson | February 4, 1995
When drug addicts and alcoholics hit bottom, they visit a Fells Point oasis called The Serenity Shop.Here, in the 200 block of S. Broadway, hundreds of people come each week to the shop's coffee bar, bookstore and pool hall. They share their life stories, provide support for each other and attend the Narcotics Anonymous and Alcoholics Anonymous PTC meetings held each day behind the pool tables.It's the kind of place where recovering addicts "can . . . see there is a life beyond drinking and drugging," says Michael Bratt, a drug counselor at the Baltimore Recovery Center in West Baltimore.
NEWS
By Alisa Samuels | January 8, 1995
Those who know former convict Kenneth Griffey Jr. say he's replaced the cocaine he once injected into his veins with religion, letting it guide his life."
NEWS
By Darren M. Allen | May 2, 1995
James Joseph O'Reilly came to court yesterday and described the pain, emptiness and remorse he has suffered since September 1993, when he got drunk, got behind the wheel and ended up killing a 53-year-old Snydersburg woman."
NEWS
By Mona Charen | October 1, 1993
JAMES McKelvey and Eugene Traynor were drunk for more than a decade. After they joined Alcoholics Anonymous and sobered up, they discovered that they were no longer eligible for government education benefits. Veterans Administration rules required that claims be filed within 10 years unless prevented by "a physical or mental disability which was not the result of their own willful misconduct."Mr. Traynor and Mr. McKelvey, steeped in the "I am sick, not bad" philosophy which has become something of a mantra for Alcoholics Anonymous, sued the VA, claiming that alcoholism is a disease, not "willful misconduct," and that their 10-year benders should be regarded as disabilities beyond their control.
NEWS
By Jonathan Bor | June 13, 1993
Declaring America's "war on drugs" a failure, retired U.S. Sen Harold Hughes exhorted recovering addicts and alcoholics yesterday to fight brazenly for more treatment programs and health coverage.To do that, he said, recovering addicts need to move beyond their tradition of anonymity into political activity.Mr. Hughes, a one-time Iowa truck driver who was jailed several times for drunkenness before beginning 39 years of sobriety, visited Baltimore yesterday to launch what he hopes will be a national movement of political activism by a group accustomed to secrecy.
FEATURES
By Orlando Sentinel | January 20, 1993
"I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me!"Anyone who watches "Saturday Night Live" will recognize those stirring words as the mantra of Stuart Smalley, the coifed, co-dependent character invented by comedian Al Franken.For three years now, Mr. Franken has starred in a "SNL" skit called "Daily Affirmations With Stuart Smalley," in which Stuart, a creature of the recovery movement -- the vast array of 12-step programs based on Alcoholics Anonymous -- looks lovingly into a mirror and mouths the affirmations that remind him he's really OK.Now those words are also the title of a book by Mr. Franken.
NEWS
By Ingrid Hansen | January 17, 1992
Coordinating an alcoholism support group in Anne Arundel County isn't easy, as Joan Urbus found out.Especially when no one shows up.But Urbus, who recently attempted to form a Women For Sobriety group in Pasadena two weeks ago, wasn't surprised."
FEATURES
By Tim Warren | April 9, 1992
Washington -- James Lee Burke is speaking about gratitud (( and appreciation of good fortune now that, at age 55, his books are finally being read and appreciated. His voice drops to a near-whisper as he talks with slight disbelief about Joyce Carol Oates' rave review of his most recent crime novel, or when he marvels at the splendid mountain setting of his home near Missoula, Mont.And there's something else to be thankful for: He still knows pain, but he is grateful every day not to be drinking himself to death.
FEATURES
By Tim Warren | April 9, 1992
Washington -- James Lee Burke is speaking about gratitude (( and appreciation of good fortune now that, at age 55, his books are finally being read and appreciated. His voice drops to a near-whisper as he talks with slight disbelief about Joyce Carol Oates' rave review of his most recent crime novel, or when he marvels at the splendid mountain setting of his home near Missoula, Mont.And there's something else to be thankful for: He still knows pain, but he is grateful every day not to be drinking himself to death.