There are few celebrity stories that can make the recovery world collectively raise its eyebrows and put down its coffee. However, Brad Pitt’s admission that, after seven years of sobriety, he is back on the booze is one of them. In a recent interview with Esquire, Pitt revealed that, despite candid admissions of his struggles with alcohol, he is no longer abstinent and now drinks, as he describes it, in a “more restrained manner.”
I must confess; I felt a frisson of excitement on reading the headlines from the news reports that followed the Esquire interview. Finally, I thought, here was the story I had been waiting for. Let the good times roll. And they would be good, wouldn’t they? Brad said it was OK! One of our coolest alco-alumni was giving us the green light. Wasn’t he?
The reaction from the recovery community was immediate. For many, the story landed as a cautionary film projected onto a church basement wall. People recognised the shape of it. The old fantasy in new clothes. On social media, the hackneyed recovery sayings came thick and fast: “He’ll either have a good time and keep drinking. Or he’ll have a bad time and keep drinking.” Or “Once a cucumber becomes a pickle, it can never go back to being a cucumber.” And then, because recovery can be stern without being cruel: “No judgement. We don’t shoot our wounded.”
Let’s call the conversation what it is for many: uncomfortable, fascinating and necessary. I do not regularly attend AA meetings (although I sometimes dip my hand in if I feel I need to get ‘back on the tools’) but their message is clear: if alcohol took you to places you never wanted to go, don’t test the theory twice. Don’t negotiate with it. Don’t try moderation after addiction. Don’t assume time has cured what sobriety merely managed. There is logic in that. When I was in treatment we were told plenty of tales of folks that decided they were sufficiently recovered after many years of model sobriety, only to end up dead within several months of committed boozing.
AA is built on the belief that alcoholism is patient, persistent and undefeated. The drink waiting at the end of seven days is the same drink waiting at the end of seven years. The difference is that after enough sober time, it starts wearing a disguise. I recognise that, even if I do not always like admitting it. I have not had a drink since I got sober nearly seven years ago, and sometimes that distance can make the whole thing feel almost theoretical. My life is largely mended, though not spotless, and the old version of me can seem less like a real person than a grotesque character I once invented: some make-believe booze troll living under a bridge.
An AA old timer would probably hear Pitt’s comments and nod gravely before reaching for a stale biscuit: “Seen this movie before.” And yet. The real world is rarely as tidy as recovery slogans. Human beings are gloriously inconsistent creatures (as demonstrated by my months of not writing a post on these pages only to feel compelled to write this one at 3am this morning). Not everyone who develops an unhealthy relationship with alcohol follows the same path. Not everyone requires permanent abstinence. Not everyone fits neatly inside one recovery philosophy. That statement alone will make some people uncomfortable. Which is a positive; discomfort is where conversation lives.
I remember one social media post that stayed with me, partly because a reckless little part of my brain filed it away. The Tweeter said that, after many sober years, he had simply “removed the importance of alcohol.” It was no longer a prompt or a response to anything. He could have a drink, then leave it alone for months or years without drama. Maybe that is true for him. Maybe some people really do reach a place where alcohol becomes just another object in the room. But for anyone with a history like mine, that is not a theory to test casually.
I have not had a drink since I sobered up on 27th March 2020, so I have never tested the theory that I would climb back onto the booze pony at the exact point where it threw me off. That leaves the odd question rattling around, usually dressed up as curiosity rather than danger. I am lucky that I can still recognise those questions for what they are and can deploy some of the tools that I learned in The Priory.
Addicts do need reminding that addiction doesn’t disappear simply because life starts looking better. Seven years sober doesn’t make you safe. Fame doesn’t make you safe. Money doesn’t make you safe. Looking like Brad Pitt doesn’t make you safe. Brad Pitt is not a recovery programme. He’s just a man making decisions about his own life, but his influence means millions of people are now talking about relapse, moderation, addiction and recovery.
Whether Pitt’s experiment becomes a footnote or a warning is something only time will tell. Until then, the value of the story isn’t that Brad Pitt picked up a drink. It’s that millions of people are once again talking about why they put theirs down.
Leave a Reply