Hello, my name is Brendan, and I am a former twelve-step person
{This is where all of you are supposed to shout, "HI,BRENDAN")
The reason for the existence of this publication you're about to read is a very simple one. As one of those who couldn't count higher than 12, surrounded by people who were no older than 12 emotionally, I was always hearing either first-hand, or what-not, about these self-help books bearing titles such as The Road Less Traveled (or the Road with Less Dead Squirrels on it); Codependent No More; Healing the Child Within, and even books by celebrities whose careers were going down faster than a straight man who realizes he was having sex with a woman who was just like his mother. Torturous tomes by such luminaries as Suzanne Somers - how many books did this one have to write about her dad drinking? Okay, one was fine, but, how, in the name of God, did she stretch it out to two or three (I think it was)? One set of books I did get something out of was the Louie Anderson series (if you count TWO as a series): Dear Dad and Goodbye Jumbo. Those were nice ones, I read each of them a few times - his style of writing made you think a friend of yours was pouring his heart out to you. They both made me cry and laugh and think. It was a shame to finish them. So, I went back and re-read them each a couple of times, giving myself some time to forget how harrowing, heartbreaking, and yet hilarious they were. Good job, Lou.
Oh, by the way, his were the only celebrity-self-help-book-signing-appearance I attended. There were two in Chicago - one in 1989, the other in 1994. I was going through some rough times in both of those years and those books came along at just the right times.
All of these self-help books, and on and on, would tell you about this, that or the other thing, I really don't know. At best, I skimmed through them, having only picked them up because some of the really popular meeting-members said it was good, and I wanted to fit into their little clique. GUESS WHAT - I DIDN'T! Oh, Christ, if there's one thing I learned in this whole thing, it's that the people who accept you are the people who accept you, and the ones who don't are the ones who don't. It's that simple.
Anyhow, it's been so long since I bothered picking one up and going through it, but they basically told you how to work the program. When I did go through the books, I was desparately searching for some kind of buzz-phrase I could hang onto and quote whenever the right moment came up. More on those horror stories later in the body of this story.
This is basically an opening argument for the existence of this tome, or blog - I'm also hoping to publish it for real, get it out on the shelves. Oh, can you just see it now:
People mobbing the self-help section, crying at passages from Healing the Child Within, The Road Less Traveled, and on and on, but picking up "Diary of A Mad Twelve-Stepper" and shouting out, "oh, my God, I don't believe it - how twisted - oh, that can't be true - what a bitch!"
Yep, as opposed to all those other books offering advice to the life-lorn, this is about the PEOPLE who FOLLOWED that advice, and really fucked it up badly.
Their real names are being kept on the hush-hush. Of course, in an anonymous support group, whose to say the names they gave were actually real, HM? 'Nuff Said. But you might know some of them. On the other hand, they could be you.
Enjoy.
{This is where all of you are supposed to shout, "HI,BRENDAN")
The reason for the existence of this publication you're about to read is a very simple one. As one of those who couldn't count higher than 12, surrounded by people who were no older than 12 emotionally, I was always hearing either first-hand, or what-not, about these self-help books bearing titles such as The Road Less Traveled (or the Road with Less Dead Squirrels on it); Codependent No More; Healing the Child Within, and even books by celebrities whose careers were going down faster than a straight man who realizes he was having sex with a woman who was just like his mother. Torturous tomes by such luminaries as Suzanne Somers - how many books did this one have to write about her dad drinking? Okay, one was fine, but, how, in the name of God, did she stretch it out to two or three (I think it was)? One set of books I did get something out of was the Louie Anderson series (if you count TWO as a series): Dear Dad and Goodbye Jumbo. Those were nice ones, I read each of them a few times - his style of writing made you think a friend of yours was pouring his heart out to you. They both made me cry and laugh and think. It was a shame to finish them. So, I went back and re-read them each a couple of times, giving myself some time to forget how harrowing, heartbreaking, and yet hilarious they were. Good job, Lou.
Oh, by the way, his were the only celebrity-self-help-book-signing-appearance I attended. There were two in Chicago - one in 1989, the other in 1994. I was going through some rough times in both of those years and those books came along at just the right times.
All of these self-help books, and on and on, would tell you about this, that or the other thing, I really don't know. At best, I skimmed through them, having only picked them up because some of the really popular meeting-members said it was good, and I wanted to fit into their little clique. GUESS WHAT - I DIDN'T! Oh, Christ, if there's one thing I learned in this whole thing, it's that the people who accept you are the people who accept you, and the ones who don't are the ones who don't. It's that simple.
Anyhow, it's been so long since I bothered picking one up and going through it, but they basically told you how to work the program. When I did go through the books, I was desparately searching for some kind of buzz-phrase I could hang onto and quote whenever the right moment came up. More on those horror stories later in the body of this story.
This is basically an opening argument for the existence of this tome, or blog - I'm also hoping to publish it for real, get it out on the shelves. Oh, can you just see it now:
People mobbing the self-help section, crying at passages from Healing the Child Within, The Road Less Traveled, and on and on, but picking up "Diary of A Mad Twelve-Stepper" and shouting out, "oh, my God, I don't believe it - how twisted - oh, that can't be true - what a bitch!"
Yep, as opposed to all those other books offering advice to the life-lorn, this is about the PEOPLE who FOLLOWED that advice, and really fucked it up badly.
Their real names are being kept on the hush-hush. Of course, in an anonymous support group, whose to say the names they gave were actually real, HM? 'Nuff Said. But you might know some of them. On the other hand, they could be you.
Enjoy.
posted by Brendan Chenowith | 2:13 PM
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