It’s been ten years this week since my last drink in January 2016, though I didn’t know it would be my last at the time. Phrases like “never again” were as common for me as “shall we get another?”—a question that never really needed an answer. I never really intended to quit drinking and taking drugs, mainly because I didn’t believe I could. Getting wasted, blacking out, the tears, the falls, the unexplained bruises, waking up at dawn at a stranger’s kitchen table—that wasn’t just what I did; it was who I was.
Until it wasn’t. That January, I finally hit my “rock bottom,” though it didn’t look much different from the hundreds of other low points that came before. This time, however, something about it shocked, scared, and frankly bored me into taking action. With the help of some good, generous, patient people, I started over and began my journey to sobriety.
That’s usually where the story ends. I was bad, and now I am good. Chaos replaced with order, darkness with light, cigarettes with green juice. It’s an uplifting tale with a tidy resolution, a satisfying narrative arc with an inspirational message to take home. Look, everything worked out! Roll credits. The end.
Except it wasn’t. It was just the beginning—at least of a more nuanced, and I think ultimately more nourishing and rewarding, story. We say, or at least I say, “I got sober” as if it’s something to be checked off and acquired. But recovery is an ongoing process. Rather than hardening over time, it reveals itself to be fluid. Sometimes I have to cling to my sobriety tightly, as if I might lose it; mostly, I can wear it as lightly as a tissue-fine silk scarf.
I’ve found that reasons to drink are always there. Sometimes those reasons are big and important, like grief—who could blame me?—and sometimes they are everyday and silly, like noticing that orange wine is a thing now and wondering, should I? To date, I haven’t acted on those thoughts, but I’d be lying if I said they don’t flutter in and sometimes linger longer than is comfortable. I hope that drink a decade ago was my final one. I believe it will be. But I’m smart enough to accept that I don’t know for sure.
For many, relapses are part of the recovery process. That hasn’t been my experience in the last ten years, though there were many false starts before. But relapses don’t fit into the “happily ever sober” narrative, so we often ignore them, dismissing the person as weak or not ready. Shame, fear, disappointment, embarrassment—there are many reasons we don’t talk about relapsing.
However, a more emboldening transparency around the struggles of sobriety is emerging. Last week, the actor Natasha Lyonne wrote on X: “Took my relapse public more to come,” later adding, “Recovery is a lifelong process. Anyone out there struggling, remember you’re not alone […] Stay honest, folks. Sick as our secrets. If no one told ya today, I love you.” (The post has since been deleted.)
Later in the week, Chrissy Teigen posted that she was 52 days sober after a relapse. “After being sober for a little over a year, I went back to drinking. I promised myself it would be in a ‘mindful’ way,” she wrote on Instagram, explaining how her consumption steadily escalated. “We aren’t talking the kind of drinking where you slur your words and miss a step on the stairs. It was just quiet and consistent. And god, I felt like shit.”
Like any of us, Lyonne and Teigen owe no one explanations about their experiences. Nevertheless, it takes guts to make such public admissions, and their generosity in sharing will no doubt help many others. The fact that these women, who outwardly “have it all,” can struggle too is somehow comforting.
Of course, life is always messier from the inside. Had you asked me a decade ago to imagine a future sober version of myself, I would have laughed at the improbability. If pressed, I would have assumed that woman was smug, contained, beatific, and calm, with glossy hair and a wardrobe of biscuit-colored neutrals. Perfect. I would have been surprised, probably disappointed, to learn how noisy and scrappy a sober life can still be. That’s not to say that…It hasn’t brought me immense peace. Instead, I was shocked to discover that when you remove the substance, the addiction remains. There was a reason you drank or used drugs that way, and that reason doesn’t just disappear. Alcohol softens the sharp, jagged edges of life, and going without that anesthetic can be agony. For the addict, the substance held your hand long before it punched you in the face.
This is something Paris Jackson, another celebrity open about her sobriety, has discussed. “Getting sober isn’t always a sign that life is perfect,” she wrote on Instagram. “A few years in, everything got very, very hard. For what felt like an eternity, I didn’t have the same survival skills I was used to for coping. I had to learn to live life on life’s terms.” Learning to “live life on life’s terms”—knowing when to fight and when to accept—is a fundamental human struggle, whether you struggle with addiction or not.
I’ve often questioned why I drank and used drugs the way I did, and the answer remains frustratingly unclear. The simplest way I can put it is that I always felt an acute discomfort in being myself—simultaneously too much and never enough. I feel things deeply, and sometimes it’s as if there isn’t enough of me to contain those emotions.
And yes, sometimes I still look for ways to quiet the noise and soothe that existential loneliness. Like many, I’ve found my addiction taking new, unexpected forms. Spending, relationships, work, food (I gained a lot of weight early in sobriety after suddenly “discovering” sugar) have all become vehicles for my addictive patterns. At least now I have the tools to recognize when something risks becoming debilitating.
If you haven’t experienced addiction yourself or seen a loved one face it, you might think this story has little to offer you. But that’s not the case. In sharing these stories about the complicated reality of sobriety, I see powerful calls to resilience. Just because something isn’t done perfectly doesn’t mean it doesn’t count. The perceived “failures”—the stumbles, mishaps, and unexpected turns—are things we all face eventually. What matters is how we respond when confronted with them. As Natasha Lyonne writes: “Keep going, kiddos.” What other choice do we have?
Frequently Asked Questions
FAQs Celebrities Speaking Openly About Relapses
BeginnerLevel Questions
1 What does relapse mean in this context
A relapse is when someone who has been in recovery from an addiction starts using or engaging in the harmful behavior again Its a common part of the recovery journey for many people
2 Why is it a relief when celebrities talk about this
It can feel like a relief because it breaks the silence and shame often associated with relapse When a famous person shares their struggle it makes the issue feel more normal and human helping others feel less alone
3 Isnt relapse a sign of failure
No not at all In the world of addiction and mental health recovery relapse is widely understood as a potential step in the process not a failure It often provides crucial lessons that strengthen a persons longterm recovery
4 Can you give an example of a celebrity who has spoken about a relapse
Yes many have For instance singer Demi Lovato has been very open about her relapses and ongoing recovery from substance abuse and an eating disorder Actor Robert Downey Jr has also famously discussed his past struggles and relapses before achieving longterm sobriety
Benefits Impact
5 How does this openness help the general public
It reduces stigma educates people about the reality of recovery and encourages empathy It can motivate someone struggling to seek help thinking If they can go through it and keep trying maybe I can too
6 Does it help the celebrities themselves
Often yes Speaking openly can be part of their own healing process providing accountability and a sense of purpose by using their platform to help others However it can also open them up to public scrutiny which is a personal risk
Common Problems Considerations
7 Could talking about relapse ever be harmful
Potentially yes If details are shared irresponsibly it could be triggering for some Theres also a risk of the public perceiving relapse as no big deal rather than a serious health issue
8 Why do some people criticize celebrities when they relapse
Criticism often comes from misunderstanding addiction as a simple lack of willpower rather than a chronic health condition