french anti-wolfie mints

email from Dr. Anon (Day 313):

“I have been thinking about the power of what you do. In many ways it’s the opposite paradigm of AA (no disrespect to AA, whatever model works for the person and I know it’s an organization that has saved millions in terms of mortality and morbidity). Having said that, most modern mainstream hospitals aren’t big fans.

The crux is in the loss of power idea. This flies in the face of everything we learn in medicine and psychological thinking. Personally, the idea of having no power is repellent to me. I never ever want to surrender and I am always in the driver’s seat.

Well, just imagine in your little shop of treats along with the jewelry and mugs, you sold a little box of French mints (fancy ones) but you had a word like “lupine” (is that the French word for wolf?). They would be totally placebo and totally legal. They would work, you know. Fuck, people spend gazillions on sugar tabs or vitamins. These anti-wolfie-mints could be kept in your handbag for when you need “strength to fight the wolf.”

I’d buy these.

Every time I put one of your fancy French anti-wolf white tablets under my tongue I’d be pissing myself laughing so hard I would feel so happy and ridiculous that I’d be in total control if my life and out of any destructive thinking spiral. Seriously, Belle. Can you think a bit outside the box in your sober store? I’d buy a carton of these mints. They sell these French mints in a tin box with a beautiful painting on the box, don’t they?

It just gave me the idea of taking more power, and how no matter what we do, we are doing an action that helps us. That’s the key. Doesn’t really matter what the action is. If our mind thinks it’s anti-wolfie, that’s enough. It can be a sugar mint with special Belle powers (you can bless them or sprinkle Belle holy water like the pope!).

I am not nuts. Go on Belle star! It was the photo of the French market that gave me this idea for some reason.

~ love, Dr. Anon”

French Anti-Wolfie Mints.

Dissolve one pill under your tongue as required. There’s something really special and medicinal about getting a tin from France. It’s exotic. You love stuff with “made in France” written on it. There’s some weird snob factor and caché… it’s extra-special because it’s from France. Anti-lupine tablets (French mints). One tin for the car, one for your bedside table.

I’m just resting my eyes [fiction]

quote from yesterday’s writing session [fiction]:

The teacup of brown liquid.

You break so many glasses that you have resorted to buying cheap crap now, and this pink flowered teacup came from the Salvation Army store, where you can get 10 cups for two bucks. The liquid itself is coffee liqueur that you may have borrowed from the restaurant kitchen. Perhaps it was to make the stacked-crepe-as-cake recipe. Or perhaps it was to drink. You always bring a cup of something to bed with you, so that you can sip right up until you close your eyes. For no good reason, really. It’s not like you’re going to enjoy it, it’s not like there’s any ‘fun’ to be had in bed with the lights off, the cup to your lips, your eyes closed already (I’m just resting my eyes, you say).


*your comments and suggestions definitely act as motivation to keep going; don’t discount the power of community, of reaching out, supporting and being supported*


Question: did you drink in bed (past-tense)? did you have any idea (at the time) why you were doing it? or was it just “something you did…”

Audio: “My therapist is an ass-hat” (response)

This is Sober Podcast Episode #188 for my weekly sober podcast series.

ok, so I sent out an email recently where someone was worried about their therapist. and I said something sweet+kind, like “maybe your therapist is a nice person, but she doesn’t understand this boozing thing.”

then I got this in my inbox swiftly afterwards:  Wanda: “That therapist is a full-of-shite asshat and she DOESN’T mean well; she’s incompetent and a self-absorbed, ego-driven fuckwit with no ability to empathize who is a danger to her clients. C’mon, where’s Ranty Belle today? … There are a ton of these certified fuckwits out there therapy-ing people to death with their bull-shite theories and irresponsible advice. [Grabs virtual cardboard and felt pens, makes crude sign, runs to Courthouse to chant with other concerned netizens: We Want Ranty Belle! Show Us Your Ranty Belle! Give Us Our Ranty Belle!]”

and so after that, I had to record a full length podcast in reply … how could I not 🙂

Below i’ve posted the first 3 minutes of the podcast. if you’d like to listen to the whole thing you can use the link to download at the bottom of the post.

What would you say to a therapist who encouraged you to ‘keep drinking’ …




Download the audio podcast episode 188

Sign up for the monthly podcast subscription
(1-2 new audios per week, you can cancel whenever you like … but you won’t. more sober tools = good)

(ps, my blog allows for anonymous comments – so you don’t have to fill in a name or an email address to post your comment below).

Over the next 24 hrs, I’ll select a blog comment and that person will receive a present funded by the Sober Good Works donations.

hugely irritating people [fiction]

quote from saturday’s writing session [fiction]:

The manager of the restaurant is a guy named Steve with floppy blond hair, his wallet in his front pocket, and by the looks of things he doesn’t wear underwear, some long bits down one side. He also could do with a good eyebrow wax. Linda, the daytime head waitress has slept with him, apparently. Though that’s not saying much, she had also made out with the pastry chef in the walk-in cooler. Thus far, she’s not interested in you.

Steve is watching you. He is smoking at the back door.

You have the usual exchange: you’re late, sorry my alarm didn’t go off and I had my kid this morning, you don’t have a kid, I overslept, no you didn’t, it won’t happen again, it’s happening more and more.

“If anything, you’re trending downward,” he says.

Speaking of trending downward, tuck in your dick. You think this, you don’t say it. You’re not that stupid. Though to be fair, you may still be drunk. Suddenly this strikes you as hilarious, what if you DID say it. What if you spent all of today, just for one day, saying ALL of the things that you think, about all of the fucking hugely irritating people, the prep cook who drinks vodka from a plastic water bottle all day, the pastry chef with her gayness turned up to volume eleven, the hostess with her fishnet tights (in this weather?), the guy who sits at table 104 every afternoon and orders the same fucking thing every time. Jambalaya. And he wants the same waitress every time (Jessica, of the big red lips). What if you said everything. Every fucking thing. Starting with Steve: Please, do us all a favour, buy some underwear.


*your comments and suggestions definitely act as motivation to keep going; don’t discount the power of community, of reaching out, supporting and being supported*


Question: How irritated were you when you were drinking (past-tense)… Did you have a moment (or twelve) of saying things when hungover that should have been left unsaid? Share a brief line or two. I need ideas for the story…

Audio: Take Care of You

This is Sober Podcast Episode #187 for my weekly sober podcast series.

In this audio, i try to answer the question sent to me by a penpal: “what does it mean to take good care of yourself?”

and at first i thought it was an unusual question, until i tried to really define what I mean by ‘take good care of you’.

in this podcast, I talk about food court rice and vegetables, how to ‘take the edge off,’ and seaside hotels in thailand.

When you download the full audio, you’ll also hear the unedited version, where there is a dog barking, the dinner timer goes off, hints of what i put in chili, and a side conversation about snuggles where I talk myself into a corner and then i have to back my way out … All of these things are missing from the ‘proper’ version of the audio.

Below i’ve posted the first 3 minutes of the podcast. if you’d like to listen to the whole thing you can use the link to download at the bottom of the post.

If you were just coming home from the hospital, what would you do to take care of you?




Download the audio podcast episode 187

Sign up for the monthly podcast subscription
(1-2 new audios per week, you can cancel whenever you like … but you won’t. more sober tools = good)

(ps, my blog allows for anonymous comments – so you don’t have to fill in a name or an email address to post your comment below).

Over the next 24 hrs, I’ll select a blog comment and that person will receive a present funded by the Sober Good Works donations.

lurching stomach [fiction]

quote from friday’s writing session [fiction]:

It’s snowing in a kind of February hell-weather way, that mix of rain and snow and freezing rain and misery. They always make light snow look so nice on television, flakes gently wafting, deep purple sky, Christmas lights. The reality is something else entirely. The sleigh bells and the ads and the nice lighting? They’re missing out on the stained boots, the chapped hands, the aftermath. It’s always good in a glossy magazine. It’s almost never good in real life.

You walk to work – from the apartment, to the laundry, then onward to the restaurant. It’s shorter to take the bus, but the idea of being caged in with a lurching stomach isn’t appealing. You eat some of the breakfast sandwich, to see how it goes down. Not well. Some of the coffee. Walking. You need this time to walk, to be outside, to have any possible, minor, slight hope of clearing your head before you arrive at work, arrive at the place that is loud and hot and anxious.


*your comments and suggestions definitely act as motivation to keep going; don’t discount the power of community, of reaching out, supporting and being supported*

about to give up

from my inbox:

L: “I’m seriously about to give up on trying to be sober. I have been struggling since 2009 – when I first went to rehab. Since then I got married and had a beautiful baby boy and didn’t drink for about two years. When my son was about a year and a half I started drinking again at social events and it quickly got out of hand. I snowballed fast and hit lots of rock bottoms. Last weekend was my worst – I drove after going to an event all day where I was drinking. I was blacked out. I got behind the wheel blacked out and tried to drive to my old friend’s house … all while my wonderful husband and sweet boy slept innocently in our home. I was out doing bad things. I have the worst anxiety. I thought that was my break through “aha” moment. But no. I drank yesterday at a baby shower then took an uber to a pub near my house and drank alone bc we have no booze in the house. I’ve been going to rehab after work 4 days a week. I don’t know why I can’t even get ten days recently. I’ve never been this bad. Or sad about everything. I have a great life and I’m ruining it with drinking.

Your podcasts are so inspiring and I can relate so much to you and what you say … I wish I wasn’t wired this way and/or I knew how to rewire permanently. I’m so fed up. I don’t know I am just venting but felt like I needed to actually send this to someone. You are amazing. I wish I had 1/4 if your strength and outlook. Thanks for making me feel like I am not completely alone.”

me: my lovely, don’t confuse my strength and outlook with anything other than being sober. I’m not some special creature. I’m a fucked up human like everyone else. I just happen to have quit drinking. 

and you can do that too. and you can kick some major ass once you quit (for real). 

that you don’t yet know how to get there, doesn’t mean it’s not possible – it means you don’t have the right tools and accountability (yet). 

so here’s what I’d suggest (and I’m not a counsellor, and you should ignore me):

  • 2 weeks of anti-anxiety medication + antabuse for 6-9 months
  • daily accountability to someone (me, sponsor, therapist)
  • weekly one-on-one meetings with someone who’s a booze specialist (me,
    sponsor, therapist)
  • continue with your outpatient treatment
  • sign up for my jumpstart class so that we can be daily penpals, and then
    email me 4 times a day to begin.
  • remove the booze from your home.
  • do not socialize outside the home for the first 6 weeks. going to a baby shower is asking to drink. I have a high bottom and I didn’t socialize outside the home more than 2-3 times in the first 6 weeks, I was too afraid to drink and I didn’t want a new day 1. 

if booze is an elevator that only goes down, then you stop off now. right now. whatever it takes. there is support for you. but as a group, us boozers, we suck at asking for it. support is right there. you have a brain that says it isn’t. your brain is incorrect.

if you do the jumpstart class, then we’re penpals, then  you can set up calls with me once a week for 6 weeks, that might help get you going. and a trial of antabuse + of anti-anxiety medication for the first for the first week (or too) might be really helpful, too.

I know you don’t WANT to do any of this. but you want to be sober. so you do some new things now. and get away from day one.

again. please ignore me. I don’t know you. I don’t know if your situations is truthfully expressed (or if it’s worse or better than what you describe). I can just talk about what I’ve seen in my inbox from other penpals. all i know is that you’ll need tools + support + accountability. and more of it than you think you ‘should’ need. hugs from me

L: “Belle, thank you so much for getting back to me so quickly. I read your email over and over and I couldn’t believe you were so responsive and real.  You gave me hope when I was seriously ready to give up on this whole sobriety thing. I emailed you 10 days ago.  I have 10 days sober today. I am so grateful for these ten days. I know I’ve had more time in the past and 10n doesn’t sound like a lot (hmm, I think that’s wolfie telling me that)  but this time around 10 days seems like a fucking long time. I am grateful for each one of them. The urges are definitely not as strong, but I need to stay on top of this and use these tools every single day. Actually every minute of the day. Because I know this shit can sneak up on me and come out of nowhere and tell me I can have one.

But screw you wolfie! Screw you alcohol! I am over you and getting stronger everyday, and quieting the voices slowly.  I am going to sign up for your jumpstart class this weekend. I am really looking forward to it. As far as your suggestions, thank you! I am on medication and I think they are starting to kick in … I’ve cancelled every commitment and social event that has been on the calendar and am ready to turn down any that come up. I simply can not even be in the room as it.  I can’t thank you enough for your support. I’ll be in touch this weekend when I sign up. Thank you, thank you!”

you are waiting for your big break [fiction]

*your comments and suggestions definitely act as motivation to keep me going*

You are waiting for your big break [fiction]

The bookcase isn’t your first messy, unfortunate event. Of course it isn’t. It’s not even the beginning of your story. But the narrator knows that a dramatic opening is required to hook people in. Readers like to start on page one and skim a few lines, then think: “well at least I never tipped a bookcase over.”

As if that matters.

– –

You sort through dirty clothes on the floor, pick up a shirt and smell it. Something grey on the front, some kind of stain, but it could be food. You work in a kitchen, so that might pass as food, right? Maybe today will be a busy day, lots of tables, hefty tips. Someone will notice how smart you are, invite you to come work for their Silicon Valley start-up. You are waiting for your big break. It’s coming. You can feel it. You will totally drink less (or none) once you’re discovered.

On your way to work, you drop off a bag of laundry at the corner place that does those things. That woman at the laundry, she’s a bright light. She knows that people live in small apartments without washing machines, that they’re tired, that they’re running behind – I mean, you’re giving her your dirty underwear after all, she knows you don’t have the brain space to do your own laundry – and because of this, she has breakfast sandwiches pre-made, in the fridge, you can help yourself, she adds them to your bill.

For this, you are grateful.

You take an egg muffin thing from the fridge. She pours you a large coffee in a biodegradable paper cup with a panda printed on the side. She hands you the receipt for your laundry. But really, she knows your name, you don’t need a receipt. Your name is something gender-neutral like Beet or Rain or Mackenzie, so that the reader cannot determine gender, and can therefore more easily think that this story is about them, if not in specifics, then in themes.

Homemade Egg Muffin Breakfast
as told to the narrator by the smart entrepreneurial Laundry store owner

toasted English muffin (homemade if you can get it)

salted butter (you don’t have to be fancy, margarine works)

chipotle mayonnaise (mix some diet Hellmans with the light blue lid with some ground chipotle spice, and add a bit of lime juice – you want the recipe for this mayo concoction too or can you just wing it?)

an oven baked egg, with Greek spices and a bit of cream (you want instructions on how to bake an egg?)

smoked cheddar – Applewood imported from England, or Cows imported from Nova Scotia (don’t let the fancy fool you, cheap Kraft singles work just fine)


 How do you vote? more food in this story? less? recipes or not?

new project? can’t tell yet. [fiction]

*and your comments and suggestions definitely act as motivation to keep me going*

You’re Having Some Kind of Personal Problems [fiction]

My goal for February, you write, is to drink less. Only weekends, only special occasions, only if I’m not alone, only if there is a really, really, really good reason.

There’s a bookcase. It’s tipped over. The books and the folders of slides and the scraps of paper and the dust hidden behind are all together now, a clutter soup. Calling it a ‘jumble’ would be too pretty. It’s a shitshow (the Urban Dictionary assures the narrator that this word is defined as ‘chaotic disorganization’).

I don’t know how it got like this, you say. And you mean it both literally, as in I don’t remember how the bookcase got pushed over, and you mean it as in I don’t know how I got to this place in my life. This isn’t a good place. I don’t feel good. This isn’t good.

You think, God it’s so overwhelming, the mess. Why is there so much dust behind a bookcase, behind each book, why do I have to look at it now, all at once, vomited onto the floor like this. Fuck, those slides were in order. And the books, too, alphabetical order. I can get my books in order but (clearly) not the rest of my life.

There’s a sharp buzzer. You think it might be the microwave. Or maybe it’s an alarm on your phone. You rub your face with both hands. The apartment is suddenly too hot, close, smaller than it was yesterday.

Then the bell again, oh it must be the doorbell, though it sounds completely unfamiliar. You don’t want to open the door, you know who it is, it’s the neighbour. Your apartments have a shared wall. Not a terribly well-constructed wall. Not a soundproof wall. You hear their television, and they hear your …

You open the door, she’s in your face:

“Hate to ask again — and I don’t mind saying that I’m tired of asking politely. It might be time for something a bit more direct. It’s too fucking loud over here.”

She’s a bit of a bitch, this one. Big boobs crammed into a too-tight shirt that she probably thinks is ‘sexy’ but instead it’s broadcasting ‘I got this at the expensive store, marked down, so that I can say that I shop there, even though — clearly — I’ll buy anything, including clothes that don’t fit, just so I can take a selfie and post it on Facebook and talk about what a bargain hunter I am …’

Neighbour: “… you’re having some kind of personal problems.”

Really, is she still talking? You’re not listening. You’re looking at your watch.

What time is it? you ask, perhaps not wisely giving away the fact that you can’t tell if it’s 7 p.m. and February dark dinner time, or if it’s 7 a.m. and it’s February dark morning.


Question: What would the neighbour say next?

Audio: I Want to be on the Rich Roll Podcast

This is Sober Podcast Episode #196 for my weekly sober podcast series.

I want to be on the Rich Roll podcast.

If you don’t know who he is, he’s an ultra-endurance runner, previous over-drinker. He’s a vegan athlete now and he has a podcast that is very popular. He talks to people about health and wellness, not just about recovery (although when the person he is speaking to has an over-drinking history, that will often become at least the subtext of their conversation).

I figured someone in my group probably knows who he is. Either you live in LA, or you know him, or you know his wife, Julie Piatt, or you know his cafe (Joi Cafe).

I’d like to be on his show because I think that I have an interesting perspective to offer, particularly as I just listened one of his recent episodes, where at the end, he and the guest — and the guest was another over-drinker, marathon ultra-endurance runner — were discussing how do you reply to people who email and say, “you’ve inspired me, I want to quit drinking, what’s your advice?”

The two of them come to it with different approaches, of course. As I’m listening I think, “gee I would say a totally different thing that will reach a whole other group of people that these two responses don’t reach.”

Below i’ve posted a 3 minute extract from near the beginning of the podcast, recorded while i was out walking to breakfast.

Do you know Rich Roll or Julie Piatt or Joi Cafe? Short of irritating him with multiple emails, do you have an idea how I can get on his show? Do you know someone who knows someone? I think the idea of a sober trial needs to be shared more, and we need to spotlight the newly emerging internet-based, anonymous, private, AND portable supports for sobriety.




Download the audio podcast episode 196

Sign up for the monthly podcast subscription
(1-2 new audios per week, you can cancel whenever you like … but you won’t. more sober tools = good)

(ps, my blog allows for anonymous comments – so you don’t have to fill in a name or an email address to post your comment below).



BG: “I don’t know this guy but I hope you get on his podcast. You have a lot of important information to get out there in the big boozy world.  My favourite part of the podcast was being in the cafe with you (at the very end). Loved that you read the menu to us. It’s that Harriet The Spy feeling. Do you know that book? It was one of my favourite’s when I was a kid. The fly on the wall. Being able to observe without being observed … Love listening to you Belle.”

MJP: “What I heard in this podcast is: you don’t have to wait for a lower bottom. A lower bottom for me could’ve been death or disability.”


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