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More, Now, Again: A Memoir of Addiction by Elizabeth Wurtzel
Book Summary InformationAuthor: Elizabeth Wurtzel Edition: Paperback Audio: English (Unknown); English (Original Language); English (Published) Published: 2002-12-31 ISBN: 0743223314 Number of pages: 336 Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Book Reviews of More, Now, Again: A Memoir of AddictionBook Review: Drugs: first. Recovery: later. Summary: 5 Stars
I couldn't put this one down. I randomly came across it in the library, and having heard that her first book "Prozac Nation" was a big hit, I was looking forward to finally reading some of her work. By virtue of being a memoir, the book is extremely self-involved, but hey, I'm self-involved, too. I was pretty much blown away. She has the unique ability to make people feel understood by reading about her own experience. She describes my world better than I ever could.
"This is how you become an addict. You have no inner resources, you drive people crazy with all your neediness, years go by, you don't grow up, people lose patience, and all that's left is whatever gets you through. Lots of people will go out on a binge if they get fired or if their girlfriend leaves, but not me. That stuff, I can handle. For me, it's the broken shoelaces that have got me hooked. It's the stuff that most people can handle that makes addicts get high. We get high over nothing.
I am an addict and I like it, try and stop me.
It's nice to cry over something or somebody who isn't me. Or aren't all our tears really for ourselves anyway? When we cry with joy at weddings, aren't we really sad that such happiness belongs to someone else? All our emotions, even the generous ones, even empathy, are really just a way of bringing the woes of the world closer to home. It's all one big opportunity to feel, to feel more.
Of course, everyone here thinks they have something in common, we are all addicts, and we are all the same. But that doesn't work with me. The desire to be seen as superior and singular -- and, conversely but similarly, inferior and individual -- is a big topic in AA and NA and addiction recovery of all sorts. They even have a term for the syndrome -- it is called terminal uniqueness. We refuse to be a part of the crowd, to walk in the middle of the road in the safety of others. We all think we're special. Of course, I know that all addicts think that. Whatever they've got to show for themselves, they all believe in some way that they are unique -- they think their emotions are special, their inner life is one of a kind. And if they have not achieved much, they believe they are hampered by addiction. Everyone I have ever met at an AA or NA meeting is a genius, despite the evidence or lack thereof. Everyone has artistic talent that was discouraged by their mean, misunderstanding parents. Everyone is misunderstood.
But by the time I empty out my boxes of belongings into my bureau and shelves in the Cottage, the thrill is gone. I am, at heart, still an addict, and for people like us, the thrill is always gone. It's leaving before it has even arrived. Every time my dealer dropped off my fix of cocaine, I was already trying to figure out when he would bring more -- and this was before I'd even gotten started on what was there. And pretty soon it becomes a way of life: there are no moments of joy, because you are always anticipating when the next possible moments of joy might arrive. As soon as tomorrow? As late as next year? Maybe in a week or two? Not that it matters, because you would not enjoy that joy either, you'd be too busy wondering where the next fix of fun would come from. Addiction is, in essence, an inability to live in the moment."
Probably not recommended for people who don't suffer like Elizabeth Wurtzel has. Only then can you appreciate a story like hers.
Summary of More, Now, Again: A Memoir of AddictionElizabeth Wurtzel published her memoir of depression, Prozac Nation, to astonishing literary acclaim. A cultural phenomenon by age twenty-six, she had fame, money, respecteverything she had always wanted except that one, true thing: happiness. For all of her professional success, Wurtzel felt like a failure. She had lost friends and lovers, every magazine job she'd held, and way too much weight. She couldn't write, and her second book was past due. But when her doctor prescribed Ritalin to help her focus-and boost the effects of her antidepressants -- Wurtzel was spared. The Ritalin worked. And worked. The pills became her sugar...the sweetness in the days that have none. Soon she began grinding up the Ritalin and snorting it. Then came the cocaine, then more Ritalin, then more cocaine. Then I need more. I always need more. For all of my life I have needed more... More, Now, Again is the brutally honest, often painful account of Wurtzel's descent into drug addiction. It is also a love story: How Wurtzel managed to break free of her relationship with Ritalin and learned to love life, and herself, is at the heart of this ultimately uplifting memoir that no reader will soon forget.
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