Posts tagged Carole Bennett

If I can be of service…

I can’t stop asking myself how on earth this woman got a blog on the Huffington Post. She really brings it this time, applying her advanced degree and expertise in addiction treatment to bear on these difficult family issues.

Oh, wait… No. It’s just another article recommending Alcoholics Anonymous and Al-Anon. And thank God for AA, or else how would vindictive, self-involved, busybodies make a living off the backs of vulnerable people?

Educating Yourself About Your Loved One’s Addiction

Here are the points she makes:

1. Do your own research on addiction.

2. Be wary of well-meaning advice.

3. Be mindful of who you talk to.

4. Attend Open Alcoholics Anonymous Meetings.

5. Attend Al-Anon Meetings.

6. Seek Professional Counseling [but not with just anyone, of course].

7. Movies […just like real life]

8. If I can be of service… [See #6]

This @#$%& Woman!

Remember Carole Bennett, MA, from the Huffington Post? The woman who wrote that bitter, ugly, shaming expose about her daughter (the garbage pail), in the guise of helping other people? I know I should stay out of her blog, but for chrissakes, I can’t understand how a person like this is granted the legitimacy of a public venue. I stumbled upon her latest post today, which is just…whatever (don’t bother). But, then had a look through some of her recent posts, and found another egregiously irresponsible piece of bullshit. It’s her advice to people who have to share custody with an addict. She suggests laying down the law, in letter form: Continue reading This @#$%& Woman!

Spiritual Brutality

Speaking of the recovery crackpots over on the Huffington Post, I landed on a particularly crazy one that, I believe, is a prime example of the type of mind-fucking, boundary-crossing, passive-aggressive, vicious emotional abuse that passes for rigorous honesty and spiritual awakening in the 12-Step culture.

The author, an addictions counselor, has written an article about her daughter’s relapse — barely containing her obvious sense of personal betrayal. In the name of “sharing” with her readers, she exposes her daughter to the scrutiny of millions of strangers. Irresponsibly, she takes advantage of her public venue to publicly shame her kid:

However, this beautiful young lady is covered with tattoos scattered about her body with little or no thought as to what she is permanently inking. One looks like a car engine and is supposed to be a music box; another is a musician that I don’t think she has ever heard of and whose hair covers most of his face. Her ear lobes sport gauges that are so big, the middle part of a sugar ice cream cone would fit comfortably through it.

Though I’m not thrilled that Lucy has decided to permanently use her body as a grease board, it does not make me love her any less.

Her tone is bitter, and her descriptions of her daughter are unkind and unloving — resentful, if you will:

Lucy became a garbage pail for any drug from acid to mushrooms to heroin. Cutting and anorexic behavior became the norm as well.

Lucy made it clear that she had no interest in considering any of my suggestions for continued education or career choices.

Lately when I see her, she is unfocused, easily agitated, defensive and dirty. This last week, a planned family dinner witnessed Lucy making several trips to the bathroom. Was she throwing up her dinner, and back to the days of bingeing [sic] and purging, getting high or both? Regardless, it was clear that her clean and sober days were over.

Bennett claims to be writing in the interest of simply connecting with her dear, dear readers — because she just knows that they are like family — but her saccharine tone is a thin veneer over what is clearly a roiling bitterness.  I find that disguising her daughter’s name is a bad faith move, considering that her own name and contact information are at the top of the page. There is nothing compassionate about the way she portrays her daughter, and in fact, her choice of words are the kind that will do deep emotional damage coming from a mother’s mouth.

After reading this, I thought, “How dare she?” And how has she dared to speak to her daughter when no one is looking?