Dissonance Has My Heart

Throughout my life, I have turned to the arts for comfort, healing, entertainment and distraction. Dance and music, in particular, have always been part of my being - a true love, if you will. Growing up, I put together soundtracks with different songs for different situations and occasions, choreographed at all hours of the night, and I wallpapered my teenage bedroom in Rolling Stone covers. Music makes sense to me because it mirrors life: the melodies that rise and fall the same way mood ebbs and flows, the rhythms that help move you along or insist you wait patiently, and my favorite part - the mindful silence between the notes that offers a chance to reflect and simultaneously beckons you to listen closely for what comes next. Music is for celebrating and grieving. It’s for letting go and understanding ourselves and finding one another. The infinity of music is the closest thing to magic that I can imagine. 

I’ve also always been a planner, so it was no surprise I took the linear steps from high school right into college, then teaching music, and then becoming a therapist. But it took a leap of faith to do something outside of the box, and I have Dissonance co-founder, David Lewis, to thank for pushing me to go there. In 2012, David and I spent a lot of moments with our work team at a small music college scratching our heads, wondering how to best support musicians who wanted to make a life in the arts. They were grappling with how-to’s, feasibility, and their own becoming as young people. Many were also struggling with addiction, mental illness, grief, and identity on top of the typical growing pains. We realized we needed to make it ok to talk about this stuff in public on our campus and to do so in an accessible way, through music. We had our method: a panel with notable musicians who would talk about their own mental health. We just needed a name. 

On a walk back to campus after having one of our deep planning talks (my favorite) at the Amsterdam (his favorite), "Dissonance" clicked in my head. I screamed it at David out of nowhere, and it was quickly a done deal. In psychology, dissonance is the discomfort of holding or perceiving conflicting beliefs. In music, dissonance is the discomfort or tension of clashing pitches. In both, we seek resolution—i.e. to resolve the discomfort. And that was exactly it for our students: they were pushing toward a developmental leap in their work with us - whether in counseling or career services - and trying to make sense of the discomfort that comes with growth.

When the college started to reduce services for students and my position was cut, I knew it was worth fighting for the rights to Dissonance — both the name and our concept. The idea for a nonprofit was born when David and I gathered a passionate group of professionals who would later become our founding board members. We all voted to start a 501(c)3 organization and did so in 2016, which means we celebrated five years in summer 2021!

When artists continue saying yes to our events and new folks reach out to be involved, that’s a sign we are on the right path. When individuals contact us about the support they have found through our Get Help Directory, it solidifies our goal of linking folks to mental health and recovery resources. And when educators and organizations share our handouts or invite us into their spaces, you can hear the stigma crumbling. 

I can talk endlessly about the cool stuff we have done, the outstanding roster of artists who have played with us, and the inspiring stories we have heard (read the many other posts on this blog for more!). But the most meaningful part of Dissonance to me personally at this moment in time is the lesson that I don't have to keep myself at arms length as a leader here. As the Chair of the Board, I used to unintentionally treat Dissonance as something I oversaw and made nice for others. When I was forced to set a boundary with my time during winter 2021 due to personal life challenges, I finally admitted to the rest of the board that I was afraid to step back, to let go. That’s when they all insisted that I rest and promised to carry on until I was ready for next steps. That acceptance told me everything I needed to know about the community we have created together. Talk about an “aha” moment! It was then I realized this thing I nurtured for everyone else over the years was exactly what - and who - my current self needed. 

It is fair to say I am in awe of the relationships forged in the name of Dissonance and the human beings who offer themselves up to not only our shared cause but to me as a person. In fact, I think some might even appreciate me more for my vulnerability than for my management skills. The Dissonance embrace has been incredibly humbling, enlightening and healing. I practice gratitude for these authentic relationships daily and feel inspired to keep going and growing because of them. 

Our mission of supporting mental health and recovery in and through the arts includes everyone. We all have a mental health story and are all touched by addiction in some way. We also all benefit from the arts in our lives, without a doubt. I am so incredibly proud of the small spark of an idea that has grown into a steady heartbeat here in the Twin Cities. Over time, we’ve been incredibly fortunate to welcome new voices to our board, each of whom has contributed to our evolution as an organization. Our volunteers, artist alumni, event attendees, blog readers, and community collaborators all make Dissonance what it is at any given moment. 

Dissonance combines my passions for creativity, wellness, and relationships, and it’s an honor to be part of this with all of you. I invite anyone reading to check out our monthly Story Well group, attend events, and contribute to our blog. Please also consider Dissonance in your giving plans or come volunteer with us! And stay tuned for our next meaningful and fun project, Dissonance Sessions, which will bring out stories behind the music in a fresh new way that reaches more people and brings us all together. More magic.  

Sarah Souder Johnson, MEd, LPCC, is co-founder and chair of the board for Dissonance, and a mental health therapist at Sentier Psychotherapy. 

Do we still need to talk about mental health?

By Katy Vernon

Around the time in my life I was becoming keenly aware that my drinking was increasing and my mental health was suffering, I started to notice events happening locally that resonated with me. Not just the usual music events, but a new type that included panel discussions around mental health, substance use and sobriety. They featured musicians I loved and admired. Not only did it pull back the curtain on what these artists felt and confronted—or had confronted—in their lives, but it confirmed that a creative-arts career could be a unique and sometimes troubling road even when you’re successful. If these artists could struggle, then what did that mean for those of us who aspired to reach their level? Does society help feed into the idea that problems go away when you reach your artistic goal, or does it reinforce the toxic notion that you always have to suffer to be creative. Is there a healthy balance? Can we listen and learn from artists who have found ways to nurture their health in a business that glorifies bad behavior?

I knew in my gut that I wanted to be a part of these events. But I also knew that I would feel phony unless I first tackled my drinking head-on. I wasn’t ready to give up on my toxic love affair with wine just yet.

Even though I wasn’t sober at the time, I found myself watching from the sidelines at the very start of these ‘Dissonance’ events and felt a powerful pull toward them. Once I was ready to get sober, one of the first people I reached out to was a Dissonance board member. It felt safe knowing that there was a small network of people who might understand my struggles. I needed this connection so much in my life, and it has continued to help me heal and grow in so many ways both mentally and creatively. I am so grateful to be a part of the Dissonance community.

So why—as the headline indicates—am I wondering if we still need these conversations? 

There are days when I feel like the mental health/wellness arena is over-saturated. I wonder if I am preaching to the choir. Every time I talk about undoing stigmas or having honest conversations, I wonder if I might sound like a broken record. Is anyone NOT talking about mental health? Isn’t everyone already diagnosed with anxiety and depression, doesn't every workplace offer wellness programs, doesn’t every bar readily offer N/A options, isn’t everyone already going to therapy? Are there even still stigmas left to smash?

Then I go onto Facebook!

This summer, when a top U.S. gymnast bowed out of the Olympic team competition for reasons related to her mental health, there was such a loud and angry backlash that it shook me to my core. Talk of “giving up,” “selfishness” and worse resonated around the world. The criticism was relentless and cruel. In the next few days, it was announced that Simone Biles was experiencing the “Twisties”—a condition that is incredibly dangerous and could have caused her  extreme injury as she flew through the air performing feats that none of us can even comprehend. Other top athletes came to her defense, and the ensuing dialogue had many sides, but no matter the circumstances leading to her decision, we shouldn’t need the specifics. She doesn’t owe us that. If someone speaks out and says they need to step back and take care of themselves, who are we to judge?

It helped me realize that as far as we have come in treating mental health on par with physical health, we are not “there” yet. There is still so much judgment and ignorance surfacing in sometimes shocking dismissiveness and derision. While I have surrounded myself in a very deliberate manner with people who choose to prioritize these issues, there are still many more people to reach. 

No matter who you are, who you work for, what flag you wear, you do not owe anyone an explanation for your own mental health. Just as we wouldn’t judge an injury or a physical ailment, we must respect the reality of mental ailments, and the ownership and rights of people to talk openly about them. 

The criticism of people in the public eye when they tell us what they are experiencing is harmful to everyone. When they are torn to shreds and belittled by Monday-morning quarterbacks, it has a toxic ripple effect on everyone else who is struggling. As a society, we build people up as role models and then tear them down if they seem weak or don’t fit into a superhuman mold. From gymnasts to princesses, we too often hear loud choruses of criticism—and this reminder has reinforced my commitment to speaking out.

Talking about mental health isn’t weak. Taking time to heal and acknowledging your limits and challenges is strong. 

While such advocacy may seem en vogue, the challenges and need are very real. Kids aren’t faking anxiety and depression to get attention, as some have suggested. Neither are adults. As a parent, I see firsthand the pressure and demands of navigating society in person and online, and if kids can find ways to connect and talk with each other about their mental health, that is a great thing. 

We are living through the biggest collective mental health challenge in a generation, and perhaps the biggest substance use crisis in the nation’s history. Amid COVID-19, global warming and our stark social and economic divides, we are all just trying to survive on a planet that can often feel unsafe.

Commentators will appear on the nightly news and deride the younger generation, or even organizations like Dissonance, for trying to create safe spaces , but why — and what alternative are there? When I ask my kids how they’re doing mentally and emotionally, they tell me they are almost resigned to the fact that the planet is dying and many will never change their behavior to address it. The very least we can do—short of addressing the root issue—is to make it OK for them to process and cope with the genuine anxiety and sadness that accompany such an outlook. Maybe then a healthier next generation can build a brighter future.

I sometimes wonder whether mental health has become a catch-all term wielded for any variety of aims. For example, adults who don’t always seem so committed to the mental health of students leveraged it very well in their call for kids to return to school this fall, even with vaccinations not yet available to many. Is mental health really the main concern, or do economics and convenience underlie the call? While I’m skeptical in the absence of broader calls for mental health solutions across the board, it’s of course true that the pandemic has taken its toll on our wellbeing.

In one way or another, everyone I know has been hurt these past 18 months. The socially anxious have become even more isolated. Outgoing folks have experienced loneliness in a new way. And creative people have lost most of their outlets and income. Personally, I have had to give up being a full-time musician and take on a more stable office job to help support my family and provide health care. I feel sad many days and hopeless on my worst days. 

This doesn’t even begin to acknowledge the mass grieving around the world. Entire families and communities devastated. As a childhood orphan, I feel others’ losses so deeply. And yet it seems like some don’t even care until they are personally touched. It’s hard to relate. And while we scream online about the pandemic’s social and political impact, are we even taking time to acknowledge those who have lost loved ones?

It seems now is the time for more safe spaces and grace, not to declare mission-accomplished on mental health dialogue. I don’t pretend to have the answers or to even know how to talk about it all. We probably need all sorts of ways. I just know I need to feel that people care. That we have each other’s backs. That there is kindness and love all around.

The need for difficult conversations has not gone away. We need to acknowledge and support each other’s struggles more than ever. We need to learn how to take care of ourselves and each other. The answer is yes, we still need to talk about mental health, and the mission of ‘Dissonance’ is as relevant as ever.

Katy Vernon is a professional musician , a mom and spouse, and a Dissonance board member .

Music Can Bring Us Together Again

By Hannah Burns

I work as a registered nurse in a drug and alcohol detoxification center where I treat clients from all walks of life. Sometimes during my shift, I like to play relaxing music in the nursing station to help me stay calm and focused. One night as I was listening to soothing classical music, a guest at our facility approached the window seeking medication to deal with anxiety. Before we could even begin to discuss pharmaceutical interventions, the guest became immediately captivated by the music. “I used to play the viola,” they said with bright eyes and a big smile. “I was really good at it too! “Why did you stop?” I asked. My client went on to explain that their mom took the instrument away so it wouldn’t get sold for drug money. “That must have disappointed you,” I replied.

They laughed and declared, “It is one of the best things she has ever done for me” and proceeded to tell me how excited they were to be reunited with the viola in sobriety. I was so proud of my client during this brief interaction. They were able to see themselves as a musician and identify their talent and passion for music as an essential part of their identity. Most importantly, my client let me know that reunification with the viola was a goal for which they were ready to fight. 

Addictions have their way of hijacking our identity. Often when we are struggling, we start to see ourselves as our disease – an “addict” rather than a person who has a substance use disorder; we may also surround ourselves with others who have addiction, which can provide a sense of belonging but also insulate us even further from our true and innermost selves. In the end, whether we struggle with substance use, mental health or anything else, we are much more than our illnesses. We are people first, and music can be a healthy intervention that helps us discover—or rediscover—who we are, become who we want to be, and establish a new and healthy sense of self.

Without the right support, however, being a musician in recovery can sometimes feel lonely. Loneliness has its way of surfacing inside the body just like feelings of hunger do. As social beings, we naturally feel uncomfortable when we’re by ourselves for too long. It is normal and healthy to seek connection. Like most singer-songwriters, I crave acceptance and love from my audience and from other musicians. I want others to appreciate and find inspiration in my creative work. In turn, I seek out concerts and events where I too can leave feeling sustained and replenished.

I am excited and grateful to work with Dissonance, which is committed to cultivating wellness in and through the arts and creating safe spaces for musicians and others to connect and share their art. On Sept. 17, 2021, C.B. James and Roz Marie (Paper Doll) joined me for a live intimate concert performance at Sencha Tea bar on Grand Avenue in St. Paul. Sencha created a signature “mele” green tea just for the event, and 100% of the proceeds supported local music! Dissonance Board Member Jennifer Gilhoi also was on hand to answer questions about Dissonance and to share her personal journey to sobriety in celebration and recognition of National Recovery Month.

No matter who you are or what your connection to art, if any– you’re invited to explore wellness with the Dissonance network, which I’m happy to say now includes me!

Hannah Burns is a poet and singer who performs as Melehana, and a registered nurse at Gateway Recovery Center in Inver Grove Heights, Minn.

Alive at Five

The Dissonance Five-Year Anniversary Party and Artist Showcase came together in the spirited creative fashion of Dissonance. It wasn’t months in the making. It wasn’t overly complicated or too taxing for any one of the event team members. It wasn’t a heavy lift for the artists invited to say yes given the point and time in the pandemic and the short and sweet performance ask of two songs or 10 minutes.

It was simply an evening to be together in community, celebrate resilience, and return to what always draws us to each other: music and the arts. And it just felt healing.

If we ever questioned it before, we now truly know that we heal by being together, sharing in the human experience. No one can live a life to the fullest or be well in isolation. Over the course of this evening at Royal Foundry Craft Spirits, artists performed as we wove in dialogue and conversations between Dissonance board members and artists about the importance of connection and well-being.

We highlighted what showing up felt like these past months. We openly shared about grief, anxiety, hope and healing. Mixing throughout the room, we listened to anecdotal stories of the toll the racial unrest, political climate, and Covid times has taken. Artists shared that performing at an event of this type --knowing the audience has got your mental health back -- allowed them to be vulnerable and ease into a return to live performances. We heard from audience and artists alike along the theme and popular Dissonance hashtag of #HowIStayWell.

In the spirit of a quick yet meaningful summary, the Dissonance team pooled our collective experience to provide you with the performance highlights, in a form called SixWords.

Mayda - Huge, funky fresh, show-opening soul.

Levi Weinhagen - Hard truths in our mirrors. Ha!

Maya Elena - Joyful muse. Yogi wise. Mystic adventure.

Justin Anthony Spenner & Carson Rose Schneider - Baritone, piano, opera missed. Next time!

Carl Atiya Swanson - Connecting people and possibilities through poems.

Adam Levy  - Virtuoso songsmith, sharing all, shedding light.

MaLLy - Mindful beats and rhymes. Stand up!

Jason Chaffee - It’s a complicated sadness. Guitar therapy.

Annie Mack - Powerful, uplifting. Oh, that voice. Testify.

Laura Hugo - Beauty in the mourning. Melancholy magic.

Charlie Parr - Introverts and resonators rule. National treasure.

Such powerful words and art were shared! You can catch artist Jason Chaffee’s pre-event performance on the Fox segment, check out the event photos on our Facebook page, and follow our page to stay in the loop for future events and activities.

Throughout the party and showcase, we cheers’ed with Dissonance, a non-alcoholic cocktail created by RFCS’s mixologist Harry of an ingredient dissonance of lemon, sage and simple syrup and a bit of salt -- an incredible flavor experience leaving us with zero regrets (#ZeroRegrets). We also enjoyed a spread of nourishing eats from Appetite for Change’s catering team, Breaking Bread Catering & Café; and gluten-free cupcakes with a Dissonance swirl from Amy’s Cupcakes. A special shout out to Nikki and Andy, RFCS owners and generous supporters of Dissonance’s mission – you two are an amazing force for good in the community. Thank you!

As our encore, thank you to the artists who showed up to celebrate and share their talents with us, to the Dissonance event frequenters and supporters, and to those completely new to the experience. This event filled our cup with hope, support and a vision for what’s possible -- and we hope it did yours as well!

-- The Dissonance board – Sarah, Jeremiah, Mariah, Katy, Karen and Jen

Coming to Terms With the Psychological Effects of the Pandemic

Editor's note: This article was originally published on Sentier Psychotherapy’s blog CounselingMN.com. It is republished here with permission.

By Sarah Souder Johnson

The COVID-19 pandemic upended much of life as we knew it and people are now trying to make sense of what just happened to us. The existential weight of it is almost too much to comprehend, especially because it is still going on around the world. However, in the United States and here in our home state of Minnesota, we see rising numbers of vaccinated individuals and plummeting numbers of positive cases of COVID-19. We are receiving permission and even encouragement to resume “normal” activities. As we begin to see the restrictions of the pandemic in the rearview mirror, it can feel exciting and upsetting all at the same time.

So exciting: Friends! Hugs! Live events!

So upsetting: Anxiety. Stress. 600,000+ deaths.

In therapy, we call this the dialectic: when two seemingly conflicting truths exist at the same time.

For example, I have heard clients talk about all of these dialectics throughout the pandemic and also experienced some of them myself:

• Quarantine was both terrifying and relieving. Some people described an exciting pandemic “honeymoon” period while at once knowing that others were sick and dying – and that it could also happen to them.

• The pandemic brought job loss and financial devastation to many while also presenting the chance for important professional reflection and growth that may have never happened without the forced slow down.

• Some people decided to make important changes in their lives that will bring them closer to peace and happiness while also being forced to reckon with painful changes in other areas of life.

And now we are facing another dialectic: It is very hard to act or feel like everything is fine even when the experts say it is safe to get back out there. So why is that?

Simply put, we have experienced trauma. The COVID-19 pandemic has combined the threat of physical harm (“I could get sick and die.”) with heightened psychological vigilance (the 24-hour news cycle, constant changes to the rules and recommendations, worry about getting others sick, missed events, lack of closure, grief). Taking precautions like social distancing, masking, and immunization helped keep us safe, but it also meant being on guard all of the time. In addition to the pandemic, we also collectively felt stress from natural disasters, racial injustice and human rights violations, political turmoil, and police and community violence.

If you don’t quite feel like yourself, rest assured there is a good reason for that. Brain fog is a common symptom of chronic stress, and “chronically stressful” is an apt description for the circumstances of the past year. Under threatening conditions, the brain gets hijacked by stress. Then hormones like adrenaline flood the body and the nervous system goes into what is commonly known as fight, flight, or freeze to help keep the body safe. It becomes difficult to concentrate, reason, and have a clear sense of time and perspective when we are on high alert at all times waiting for something bad to happen. This is brain fog. Another common symptom is disorientation, especially under ambiguous circumstances. Although the virus is receding, there will be no hard and clear end to it, and that type of uncertainty increases anxiety even more.

Remember that you have lived through a series of rapid changes following a very abrupt shutdown. If you are feeling more upset than excited and struggling to return to “normal,” gently consider the following tips for recovery:

1. Get organized. Show yourself compassion by using a calendar to track plans and tasks and set reminder alarms. Carving out a little more time than usual for daily tasks will increase the effectiveness of your work and give you a sense of accomplishment.

2. Leave your home. You may be isolating yourself after following recommendations to physically distance. Question any notion that you are better off alone as that is likely anxiety speaking and not a rational thought. Start by establishing a simple routine for going outside, make eye contact, run errands, and be around other people with increasing frequency.

3. Move your body. Movement creates new neural pathways that can help your brain get through mental blocks and also helps rid the body of stress hormones. This is particularly true with movement that engages both sides of the body in an alternating, repetitive motion. Take a walk, hop on a bike, or row a boat to help you process the big emotions of this new reality.

4. Humans recover best together. Your relationships may have changed over the past year, and that is ok. Conversations with just one trusted person about the highs and lows of your experience can help calm your nervous system, reintroduce a sense of lightness and safety, and move you toward feeling and functioning better.

If you are struggling more now than earlier in the pandemic, you are not alone. This is trauma, and it takes time to get back into your body, calm the nerves, and make sense of it. Accepting the dialectic of the present moment – that it is indeed both exciting and upsetting at once – can get you feeling more like yourself again.

Sarah Souder Johnson, M.Ed., LPCC, is the co-founder and board chair of Dissonance and a therapist at Sentier Psychotherapy in St. Paul, Minnesota.

Five Years of Invitations

By Jennifer Gilhoi

Four years ago, I let go of sober anonymity, writing in a blog post entitled Let Go Out Loud: “More and more, I see how stepping out of church basements to embrace a more integrated presence and acceptance in society sends a clear invitation to others that it’s OK to seek help sooner than later.”

By sooner than later, I’m not talking about a few trivial months -- I’m talking about years. In my case, it took two decades to deeply understand I had a drinking problem and then accept the only invitation I knew of in 2013: an AA meeting. My understanding of such meetings, from movies and other pop-culture portrayals, was that they required a declaration, “I’m Jen. I’m an alcoholic,” and an immediate flip of the switch to a completely sober existence.

I could not fathom such an abrupt transition and was motivated more by fear of my current path than attraction to a new one. I had no role models, no examples. As far as I aware, no one in my personal circle had successfully moved from active addiction to sobriety; certainly no one had recounted their story and lived experiences to me.

As I prepared for my first AA meeting, I practiced what felt like a shameful admission in the mirror in a soft, sad, tearful voice. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself as a new member of this fellowship should my intro not easily roll off the tongue. But in that first meeting, I was on edge and so raw with emotion that any AA long-timer could intuit my uncomfortable, strung-out state. Since that experience, I’ve heard many other newcomers in Twelve Step rooms exercise the option to bypass the label and simply say, “I’m ___, I’m here to listen.”

THIS. This is what we need more of – invitations to listen, ask questions, form relationships and feel safe and supported. This is what Dissonance is about – working in and through the arts to shatter stigmas around mental health and addiction. The art we celebrate and conversations we host help people struggling begin to find a better way that’s self-directed and empowering, and free of guilt and shame.

While my story is about discovering a life free of alcohol addiction, the Dissonance community is broad, deep and encompassing of the human struggle in every shape and form. I’m so grateful I discovered this community and have had the opportunity to serve on the board since November 2018. It has activated my vision of open, shared experiences that support healthy and sustainable lives.

As our community celebrates five years, including the pandemic years, I couldn’t be prouder of the artists who continue to create and uplift despite all odds, and our close-knit board members who continue to extend invitations. We survived because we leaned into each other. We’re here now—stronger, more resilient and ready to keep moving forward.

I want to extend a public thank you to friend and former Dissonance board member Carl Atiya Swanson (pictured with me here) for several coffees and conversations, the confidence he instilled in me, and the initial invitation he extended in 2017 that led me to show up for a Dissonance sober happy hour at Five Watt coffee shop on Nicollet in Minneapolis. On July 28, 2021, I celebrate seven years of continuous sobriety and a new journey via jengilhoi.com to let go out loud and bring others along for the ride.

Jennifer Gilhoi is a marketing, social media and events consultant, avid yogi, and Dissonance board member.

LineCheck: Mental Health & Self-Care for Creatives

Dissonance Co-founder and Board Chair Sarah Souder Johnson was honored to facilitate the second in a new 2021 series of virtual conversations with Minnesota's music community. Thank you to 89.3 The Current for conceiving and presenting the LineCheck series and also for sponsoring Dissonance’s 5-Year Anniversary Party + Artist Showcase.

Sarah’s wide-ranging LineCheck discussion with Annie Mack, Nazeem Jalees of Blood $moke Body and Davina Lozier of Davina and the Vagabonds explores the emotional toll of the pandemic, civil unrest, and unearthed patterns of abuse within the music community; how musicians are faring now; and ways to move forward with a priority on mental health and self-care. Sarah shared many resources available to artists, and the panel shared timeless insights and wisdom from their lived experiences.

“It is completely possible to talk about this really hard stuff and still feel uplifted and hopeful. And if you don’t, that’s ok too,” Sarah noted. “I have so much gratitude for all who were involved with this conversation. When we get truly present with one another, lean into purpose, and share our authentic truth, we have this magic ability to work through our discomfort and help each other as well as others. That’s exactly what happened here, and I hope more people will find hope, comfort and perhaps some inspiration and practical tips by listening in.”

Watch the full discussion—bookended with performances by Mary Bue—in the video player below.

Before the Ted Talk, there was the Awareness Hour

Photo above: Jerry Moe speaking at the Awareness Hour on April 9, 2016. Moe is national director of children’s programs at the Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation.

By Jeremiah Gardner

For almost a half century, community members in California’s Coachella Valley have heard the stories of people who overcame addiction—people whose personal and family recoveries often began in the anonymity of Twelve Step meeting rooms but who saw the value of shedding public light on a disease hidden for generations behind shame and stigma. 

The Alcohol Awareness Hour was launched on Nov. 13, 1976, at the Eisenhower Medical Center in Rancho Mirage, Calif., and adopted six years later by its new neighbor, the Betty Ford Center, which still carries on the speaker series’ rich tradition of public education, inspiration and advocacy. 

Hundreds have stood on the Awareness Hour stage—including authors, physicians, clergy, educators, business leaders, authors, sports figures, show business personalities and musicians—paving the way for a modern era that is now replete with recovery podcasts, videos and public speakers. An era where, thanks to Ted Talks, the solitary storyteller on stage has become a cultural force.

Major League Baseball players Sweet Lou Johnson, Bo Belinsky and all-stars Maury Wills, Don Newcombe and Ryan Duren all spoke at the Awareness Hour. As did Chicago Bear Bob Newton; U.S. Sen. Harold Hughes; U.S. Reps. Wilbur Mills and Mary Bono; comedians Roseanne Barr and Tom Arnold; actors Ed Begley, Jr. and Jan Clayton; singers/actors Gary Crosby and Gordon MacRae; songwriter Paul Williams; and the multitalented Walter O’Keefe, among many others. 

Of course, former First Lady Betty Ford also spoke, along with her daughter Susan Ford Bales and the physician who treated Mrs. Ford’s substance use disorder—Dr. Joseph Pursch. So, too, did the beloved author and historian William White, as well as Father Joseph Martin, whose “Chalk Talk on Alcohol” is one of the most celebrated talks ever on addiction. And back in 1981, a year before the Betty Ford Center would open and 33 years before it would merge with the Hazelden Foundation, iconic Hazelden President Dan Anderson visited Eisenhower to deliver presentations on two papers he published, including one that ended with these wise words, reinforcing the case for the Awareness Hour:

“Perhaps the greatest problem is still community education. In a very real sense, alcoholism does not exist until the community says it does, and comprehensive treatment programs will not be fully available until public support is fully mobilized.” – Dan Anderson

As organizations like the Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation, Dissonance and many others continue to creatively lift up recovery voices in public settings—through events, blogs, social media, Zoom rooms and more—it is worth reflecting on the history and significance of what may be the nation’s longest running and most influential public recovery speaker series. 

“It's amazing—and it's very touching to me, and I'm very grateful—that it's continued to go on,” said Joseph R. Cruse, MD, in 2016. Dr. Cruse, who passed away in 2021, was president of the Eisenhower Medical Center staff in 1976 and co-founded the Awareness Hour with retired radio legend Del Sharbutt and his wife, singer Meri Bell.

“It was a real happening on Saturday morning … a high-spirited kind of thing.”
— Joseph R. Cruse, MD

View fullsize

William C. Moyers speaks at the Awareness Hour on Feb. 20, 2016. Moyers is a bestselling author, national recovery advocate and vice president of public affairs and community relations at the Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation.

A 'Happening' Event and 'Burgeoning Movement'

The Awareness Hour—or Alcohol Awareness Hour, as it was originally known—quickly became a big deal. It frequently exceeded capacity during its first two years in the 150-seat Dennis Auditorium in Eisenhower's Kiewit Building, before being moved permanently to a larger space in Eisenhower's Annenberg Center for Health Sciences, where the Awareness Hour is still held today on select occasions.

"Our auditorium was packed full, and on a number of occasions, we had to move to larger quarters to accommodate crowds of 400-500," said John Sinn, then President of Eisenhower's Board of Trustees, in a 1981 issue of the national magazine Alcoholism. "Then Joe made us aware of the fact that many of these people were newcomers each week, and it became clear to the board that this just wasn't a disease, but a disease of epidemic proportions here in the Valley."

People in recovery attended, along with people seeking recovery, concerned friends and family members, and the interested public. 

"We are trying to remove the stigma from the word 'alcoholic,'" wrote Meri Bell Sharbutt, who was Mrs. Ford's recovery mentor, in the First Lady's 1987 biography, A Glad Awakening. "We reach people who would be frightened or embarrassed to go to an AA meeting."

Added Mrs. Ford: "It doesn't matter whether you start interacting with a group at a treatment center or in AA or during an Alcohol Awareness Hour; it doesn't matter whether you come through the front door or the side door or the back door; it doesn't matter whether you meet in a church basement or in a community center—there is help out there for anyone who wants it."

(L to R) Dr. Joseph Cruse, Del Sharbutt and two local health officials—Polly Wentworth and EllenFitzpatrick, RN—a few days before the first Alcohol Awareness Hour. © The Desert Sun (Nov. 9, 1976) Used with Permission

Doctors and other healthcare professionals attended too, and not just those working at Eisenhower. Jerry McDonald was working two hours away at San Pedro (Calif.) Hospital when the Awareness Hour started. He and four colleagues there—Allen Berger, Ed Storti, Judi Hollis and Father Leo Booth—would regularly car pool to the Awareness Hour. 

"It was the place to go for the latest information on addiction, treatment and recovery," Mr. McDonald said. "People would come from all over—not just to listen but to also ask questions."

"It was a real happening on Saturday morning," added Dr. Cruse. "We had literature laid out. We had books that were being sold. We had all the volunteers there. We had about four or five volunteers every Saturday. They acted as ushers and greeters, and it was a high-spirited kind of thing."

Of course, free caffeine and sugar helped. When Dr. Cruse proposed the Awareness Hour to the Eisenhower board, he suggested holding it Saturdays after the doctors' regular "mortality and morbidity" meeting because he knew the meeting always had leftover coffee and doughnuts. 

After carpooling to the community lecture series for years, Mr. McDonald eventually started working for the Betty Ford Center in 1992 and became the Awareness Hour emcee in 2003. It's a role he still serves in today, carrying on many traditions such as thanking Eisenhower Auxiliary volunteers at the start of every Awareness Hour—for, among other things, providing the java and pastries. 

Interestingly, Mr. McDonald's four San Pedro colleagues—who sat with him in the Awareness Hour audience for more than a decade, each became prominent figures in the addiction care field, and all eventually spoke multiple times at the Awareness Hour.

In the 1981 Alcoholism article, Mr. Sharbutt reflected on how quickly attitudes changed for the better in the Coachella Valley, noting the outpatient treatment program that Dr. Cruse was able to start at Eisenhower in 1978, new detox and emergency room protocols there, the local media's willingness to promote the events, and the invitations local people in recovery began getting to speak in other settings like churches and service clubs. 

Former First Lady Betty Ford and Awareness Hour co-founder Dr. Joseph Cruse at the October 9, 1981, groundbreaking for the Betty Ford Center.

It all helped lay the groundwork for the Betty Ford Center, which was approved in concept in 1979 and opened its doors on Oct. 4, 1982. 

"That was the next stair step—the Awareness Hour, then the outpatient alcohol program and then the Betty Ford Center," said Dr. Cruse, who became the Betty Ford Center's founding medical director. "The Alcohol Awareness Hour had been like a plough, getting the sod ready, preparing the dirt in the valley for an alcohol treatment center."

Mr. Sharbutt said he was rather surprised and amazed by the impact of the Awareness Hour. While some doctors learned about alcohol problems and solutions by attending the Awareness Hour, he said, others started getting educated by their patients who had attended. "We had no idea that the public would start to talk to their doctors," Mr. Sharbutt told Alcoholism.

Dr. Cruse said he and Mr. Sharbutt made buttons that helped break the ice with other employees at Eisenhower Medical Center and elsewhere. One said, "Some of my best friends are alcoholics," and the other said "Alcoholics are (really) nice people." 

"After a while, with all we were doing to engage the public, people just got comfortable with an alcoholic," Dr. Cruse said. 

Alcoholism magazine called the Awareness Hour an "exciting, burgeoning" movement. And before long, awareness hours were popping up throughout California and around the country. Mr. McDonald, for example, started three awareness hours himself at other California locations. According to the Alcoholism article, about 150 awareness hour presentations were attended by nearly 25,000 attendees in California and Arizona from 1976 to 1981. 

Vernon Johnson—the family "intervention" pioneer from Minnesota who wrote the classic book I'll Quit Tomorrow and spoke at Eisenhower's Awareness Hour in 1978—took home the idea too. The Johnson Institute, which he co-founded with Minneapolis business and civic leaders Irene and Wheelock Whitney in 1966, started its own awareness hour in 1983 and kicked off the first season with prominent speakers like Minnesota Viking great Carl Eller and Chicago nightly news anchor Ron Magers. Later, Hazelden would acquire the assets of the Johnson Institute, which for more than four decades, was a leader in intervention, treatment, publishing and advocacy.

Dr. Cruse and Mr. Sharbutt also took their show on the road at the behest of James Kemper, a person in long-term recovery remembered by many for pioneering an employee assistance program; adding alcoholism treatment coverage to his Kemper Insurance Companies' group insurance plans in the 1960s when no one else was doing it; and in the 1980s bucking the trend of jacking up life and medical insurance rates for people in recovery.

"He sent Del and me around the country," Cruse said. "We went to his headquarters in Chicago and wrote this little booklet on how to start an alcohol awareness hour. ... We would put on awareness hours here, there and everywhere." And Kemper would mail 7,200 of those booklets to every hospital in the United States.

View fullsize

Jazz Without Booze

One thing none of the other awareness hours could mimic was the wildly popular Jazz Without Booze, an annual event launched by Mr. Sharbutt as a companion to—and fundraiser for—the Awareness Hour series in Rancho Mirage.

Many people remember Mr. Sharbutt as the person who created and originally voiced the famous "Mmm Mmm Good" slogan for the Campbell Soup Company. But, upon his retirement to the California desert in 1976, he also brought with him many contacts from the entertainment industry, especially from the world of big band jazz. As a well-known CBS radio announcer in New York City, he had the opportunity in his 45-year broadcasting career to work with people like Glenn Miller, Tommy Dorsey, Guy Lombardo, Frank Sinatra, Bob Hope, Duke Ellington, Jack Benny and W.C. Fields. He also was a saxophone and clarinet player himself, and a longtime lover of jazz. His wife Meri Bell had been a professional singer as well, with Gus Arnheim's Orchestra.

In 1978, the Sharbutts put together a special "once-a-year" program featuring great jazz musicians, many of whom had decided to stop drinking over the years. In 1981, it became associated with the Alcohol Awareness Hour and known as Jazz Without Booze. It would continue for 17 years, with Mr. Sharbutt as the master of ceremonies and many others contributing to the effort, including Dr. Luther Cloud, former president of the National Council on Alcoholism and fellow jazz aficionado.

"We wanted to let everybody know that you didn't have to drink to have fun," Mr. Sharbutt wrote in a 1993 event program. The band had 19 members that year, all with impressive musical resumes.

For several years, the event would take place on a single Saturday evening, after an Awareness Hour lecture earlier in the day. Sellouts usually happened within a day, though, and many complained, so the event was extended to Saturday and Sunday starting in 1987. 

"It turned out to be one of the most popular things that ever happened in the area," Dr. Cruse said. "It was, I mean, like a big production. It was wonderful."

Entertainment legend Bob Hope, a Jazz Without Booze fan, autographed this event program for longtime Betty Ford Center executive John Boop in 1995. Hope and his wife Dolores donated the land on which Eisenhower Medical Center and the Betty Ford Center sit.

Betty Ford was a regular at the Awareness Hour, and she and her husband, President Gerald Ford, both made it to the Jazz Without Booze performances. Dan Anderson, who spent some winters in California after his retirement from Hazelden in 1986, also was a frequent attendee of the Awareness Hour and Jazz Without Booze. Hollywood stars were commonly seen, too. For example, Dr. Cruse recalls seeing Clint Eastwood at Jazz Without Booze in 1995—"just because he loved the music." Bob and Dolores Hope were also regular attendees. Many, like Mrs. Ford and Dr. Anderson, would make a day of attending both the Awareness Hour and the jazz concert that evening.

"In the early '90s, I remember seeing Frank Sinatra at the Awareness Hour event where Tom Arnold and Roseanne Barr spoke. Gregory Peck was another who attended an event," said longtime Betty Ford Center executive John Boop. "Everyone in the crowd mixed in. No one was treated as a celebrity—just guests attending an event about recovery."

Asked about other favorite memories, Dr. Cruse mentioned two. The first was when Sharbutt played a video of the Lennon Sisters singing on the Ed Sullivan Show.

"The whole audience was watching this video, but they didn't realize that the soundtrack wasn't the soundtrack at all. It was the Lennon Sisters behind the curtain, and then they walked out singing," Dr. Cruse said. "It was pretty theatrical. There were a lot of things like that."

He also recalled when tenor saxophone great Stan Getz, one of jazz's best known figures, performed and was followed by a part-time Betty Ford Center counselor named Max Geldray, who just happened to be a jazz harmonica giant in Europe before moving to California. Geldray actually was well-known overseas for his work as a comic and musical sidekick to Peter Sellers and others on The Goon Show, a BBC radio hit in the 1950s. Apparently, Getz wasn't familiar with him.

"Max was just marvelous," Dr. Cruse said. "He got up there and played, and with Stan Getz being the jazz artist that he is, he couldn't stand it. So, he got out of his seat, got his horn back out and went up on the stage with Max, and they played Dueling Banjos (made famous in the movie Deliverance). … They'd never met each other, and they played beautiful music for about 25 minutes."

Father Andrew Rank, who served as the Sunday pastor at the Betty Ford Center from 1984 to 1992, also got to play with Mr. Geldray at Jazz Without Booze. When Mr. Sharbutt died in 2002, Father Rank wrote a newsletter tribute in which he recalled how his friend Mr. Sharbutt liked to get locals involved in the show too.

"One year he called upon Father Vern Suter, who was a professional pianist and organist before becoming a priest," Father Rank wrote. "Dr. Jim West, who did one of the first successful kidney transplants and was medical director at the Betty Ford Center—Jim played the banjo. Joining the group was Max Geldray, a BFC staff member and world famous jazz harmonica player who switched to drums that night, and me on string bass. Del called us, 'The Preachers, the Doctors and their Friends.' In addition to the other jazz performers, joining the show that night was Helen O'Connell and comedian Foster Brooks, known for his hilarious drunk routine."

The banjo-playing Dr. West, who succeeded Dr. Cruse as the Betty Ford Center's medical director, also assumed some responsibility for the Awareness Hour. "He breathed life into it for a couple of decades," said Mr. Boop. 

On Jan. 31, 2015, the Awareness Hour hosted several speakers for a panel entitled: The Legacy of Betty Ford: Women in Recovery.

Part of the First Modern Recovery Advocacy Movement

It certainly was an exciting time for recovery advocacy as a vanguard of Americans set out to challenge generations of stigma by putting a positive public face on recovery. In June 1975, the National Council on Alcoholism (NCA) held the first-ever telethon dealing with the disease of alcoholism, and a number of recovering celebrities were involved. Eleven months later, in May 1976, the NCA sponsored Operation Understanding, a televised event in the nation's capital, during which 52 prominent citizens publicly proclaimed their recovery from alcoholism. In June of the same year, FreedomFest '76 was held in Minnesota; it was, and still might be, the largest recovery advocacy event in American history. Just five months after FreedomFest, Dr. Cruse and the Sharbutts launched the Awareness Hour. And, in 17 more short months, Betty Ford would publicly announce that she was in treatment for substance use problems.

"So many things were such a big happening in those days," said Dr. Cruse, who found himself in the middle of a lot of history.

Interestingly, in 1971, Dr. Cruse visited Hazelden in Center City, Minn., looking for ideas to help propel his dream of opening a residential treatment center. Later, after evaluating a county Driver Awareness School in 1976, he got the idea to spread alcohol awareness to the general public, and a short time later, the Awareness Hour was born. Soon, he also was called upon by the Ford family to help with Mrs. Ford's intervention, which he did in 1978. A year later, to the day, Dr. Cruse and Mrs. Ford were both part of the intervention for business and civic leader Leonard Firestone, the former U.S. ambassador to Belgium who sat on the board of Eisenhower with Mrs. Ford and went on to co-found the Betty Ford Center with her in 1982. Dr. Cruse, finally able to see his dream through, became a key member of the leadership team that planned the Betty Ford Center, and he successfully pushed for emulating Hazelden's design and approach, giving him a special place in the annals of the two organizations that are now merged.

When Dr. Cruse resigned as medical director of the Betty Ford Center in 1984, he also left the Awareness Hour, though still attended when he could. Years later, he recognized how special it was to start the Awareness Hour during the first modern recovery advocacy heyday and then to help launch an iconic treatment center.

"I still have a soft, warm spot in my heart for the Awareness Hour. It was such a community undertaking with everybody jumping in, and it was so timely," Dr. Cruse said in 2016. "After I did a couple of interventions, one of them which was Betty's, I do remember driving back to Palm Springs looking up at the big mountains and saying, 'Why, God, do you keep letting me in on these things?' I was certainly fortunate."

When Dr. Cruse moved on to other pursuits, Mr. Sharbutt—who once used his famous voice to read the entire "Big Book" of Alcoholics Anonymous for an audio recording that was distributed to 100 friends of the Betty Ford Center—became the lone emcee for the Awareness Hour. In her biography, Mrs. Ford noted his style.

"Del Sharbutt always greets the audience, and says something like 'Please don't call us reformed alcoholics, you wouldn't talk about a reformed cancer patient, or a reformed heart patient.' Or he may explain that, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture, Americans drink more alcohol than milk. And another Alcohol Awareness Hour is off and running," she wrote.

In 1978, Mr. Sharbutt's son Jay asked this of his father in an interview published by the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette: "Some well-known folks like Dick Van Dyke, Ralph Waite of 'The Waltons.' Doc Severinson and Betty Ford have publicly said they're recovered alcoholics and can't drink. Why go public?"

"The whole idea of going on the record is not to take glory for having recovered, but merely to point out that alcoholism is a disease, that you can recover from it, and that no stigma should be attached to alcoholism any more than to cancer, diabetes or heart disease," Mr. Sharbutt responded.

Mrs. Ford agreed, writing in her biography: "That's what all of us, in our separate ways, try to do. Pass along the message. And it is through this sharing, through our own joy in recovery, that we attract others."

Mr. Sharbutt brought that message to Hazelden in Center City on June 13, 1982—four months before the Betty Ford Center opened—when he delivered the keynote address at Hazelden's third annual Alive and Free alumni event. It was yet another connective tissue between the two organizations.

Leonard Bade

It was also 1982 when former U.S. Congressman Wilbur Mills agreed to speak at the Awareness Hour. Interest was so great, the event was moved to a nearby hotel, where hotel executive Leonard Bade just happened to catch the talk. It was serendipitous for Mr. Bade, who had been struggling with his own substance use for years. Later that year, serendipity struck again when Abbott Mills (no relation to Wilbur)—a Desert Hospital "alcoholism counselor" who had become active in the Awareness Hour—approached Mr. Bade about initiating an Employee Assistance Program for the hotel chain.

"I told Abbott a little bit about my story and the problems I was having, and he invited me and my wife to join him and his wife at the next Awareness Hour. He said it was educational and informal, and that there would be coffee and doughnuts," Mr. Bade recalled. "I think what appealed to me initially was that it was an educational program. It was sort of a backdoor way of getting people like me to hear the stories that get into our heart and spirit. It became more of an awakening than something that simply landed on my brain."

Mr. Bade remembers hearing an airline pilot speak at the Awareness Hour that year, and a doctor. Not long after, he decided to get professional treatment for his own disease. In recovery since, Mr. Bade would become a regular reader of the "preamble" at the Awareness Hour, and later started his own awareness hour in Fort Worth, Texas—a series that had a nine-year run and included a memorable speaking appearance by Mr. Sharbutt, who grew up nearby, in 1993.

"I don't know if I'd be sober today if not for attending those early Awareness Hours," Mr. Bade said.

Hazelden Betty Ford Chief Medical Officer Marvin D. Seppala, MD, spoke about his own recovery journey and the healing power of love and connection at the Awareness Hour on April 2, 2016.

Evolution

In the late 1980s, Mr. Sharbutt—though still very much involved, especially in Jazz Without Booze—delegated the emcee role to Betty Ford Center employee Mark Greenberg, who served in that capacity until Mr. McDonald took over in 2003. 

By that time, a lot of change had come and gone. For starters, the Alcohol Awareness Hour was renamed the Alcohol and Other Drugs Awareness Hour in 1990. And, in 2017, it was renamed again—this time, simply, to the Awareness Hour.

Another change has been to scheduling. The Awareness Hour series was initially approved as a 13-week experiment, with that first season extending into 1977. The number of Awareness Hours held annually has varied since, and for the past couple of decades, the public education lectures have been held exclusively in the early part of the year.

Author, filmmaker and music industry vet Gary Stromberg spoke at the Awareness Hour in 2016.

One more change has been funding. While Dr. Cruse and the Sharbutts helped foot the bill for the Awareness Hour in its early years, the Eisenhower Medical Center Auxiliary, supported in part by Jazz Without Booze and later the Betty Ford Center, became a strong underwriter for many years, even as the Betty Ford Center took over planning and production responsibilities. As a result, speakers could be flown in for the Awareness Hour when needed. Today, in the absence of the jazz concert and the late Mrs. Ford's philanthropic muscle, funding is scarcer. But the Awareness Hour, now replicated in various forms across the country, carries on and today includes occasional livestreams and recordings that can be accessed on demand, extending the audience beyond the Annenberg Center's auditorium, now known as Helene Galen Auditorium.

"Each Saturday was, and still is a blessing for me. The speakers have been insightful, informative and often entertaining," said Aaron Green, who has added audio/visual pizzazz to the Awareness Hour since 2003. "The Awareness Hour is a marvelous, organic, program that has helped save hundreds, maybe thousands, of lives over the years, and I hope it continues on this glorious path for many years to come."

Thanks to efforts like the Awareness Hour, it's no longer novel to put recovering people on a public stage, or to proactively educate the general population. But both activities are still needed. We are now in the midst of a new recovery advocacy movement and making some progress on public attitudes and policy, yet addiction remains marginalized, misunderstood and costly to too many individuals, families and communities. The Awareness Hour was one of the few advocacy efforts from that first movement in the late 1970s to sustain itself through what historian William White calls the re-stigmatization, de-medicalization and re-criminalization of the 1980s and 1990s.

It stands as a rare symbol of continuity, and also a reminder of how important it is to keep going and not let up.

Jeremiah Gardner is a board member for Dissonance. He wrote a previous version of this story for the Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation in 2016.

Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation Audio · Betty Ford Center's Awareness Hour (since 1976)

Go Easy on the Expectations, Be Good to Yourself

EDITOR’S NOTE: Since the pandemic began, and physical distancing guidelines sent many of us into relative isolation, much of the world has moved online. The transition has come quickly and created challenges of various sorts. For example, finishing the school year at home was taxing on both students and parents. As summer begins and the next school year awaits, we still don’t know what to expect. But we can learn from those who have more experience navigating the virtual world. Here, in a new kind of blog post for us, teenage contributor Lindsey shares some tips for other teens on successfully navigating the online learning environment and embracing an attitude of self-care. At the end, we also share a link to some resources for teens that we have posted to our Get Help Directory.

By Lindsey Horsman (pictured, far right, with friends)

I’m a junior at an online high school, and the end of this extraordinary school year brings new questions and uncertainty. What’s summer going to be like during a pandemic? Will I be able to go to the pools? What will the next school year look like?

Normally, I’d be preparing to see and meet new people during summer Postsecondary Enrollment Options (PSEO) classes at Normandale Community College in Bloomington, Minn. But it looks like Normandale’s classes will remain online for now, due to the ongoing risks associated with the coronavirus. Of course, I’m used to online classes. That’s been my high school norm for three years, and I like it for a variety of reasons. It works for me. But summer is usually the time for my change of pace, when I catch up on the social interaction I’ve been missing and don’t have to be glued to email awaiting assignments, deadlines, feedback and answers to my questions from my professors.. This summer looks to be different, and it’s disheartening and a bit anxiety-provoking.

PSEO classes are college-level and, therefore, look good on applications to prospective colleges, but I’m questioning whether I’ll even be able to do well this summer. Should I do something else? I don’t pride myself on my grades, but I do work hard for them and am proud of the effort I put into them. Putting myself into a situation that I’m not feeling up to, and in which I might fail, is scary.

These are just a few of the thoughts that have been swirling around in my head this spring. Maybe you, if you’re a teen, or your child, if you’re a parent of a teen, is facing similar anxious quandaries.

Personally, I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s best to take the pressure off myself. Maybe we don’t need to take that advanced placement class or extra college class. Online classes during the regular school year are hard enough. If my prior summer plans are no longer possible and the only option is one that might challenge my mental health, maybe I need to prioritize my well-being.

That’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m going to talk to my counselor and make a plan so I’m still able to meet my graduation requirements on time. This summer, though, I’m going to ease up on my expectations, put off worrying about next semester until it arrives, and try to have fun, enjoy the summer and celebrate the accomplishments of finishing the school year—amid a global pandemic, no less! We have achieved a lot during these uncertain times.

If you’re in a different situation and are taking online classes this summer, or looking ahead at the possibility of more virtual schooling in the fall, do your best to manage expectations, anxiety and the school work itself. Here are some tips from my three years of online high school, which may be useful …

1. Online school is HARD. You’re learning more independently, but don’t be afraid to reach out to your teachers. Teachers want to help you learn and succeed in class. Some are new to this too, and they want to make it as easy and productive as possible for both of you.

2. Pace yourself. I know that sounds like a cliche, but it’s true. After finishing a hard lesson, take a break. If you continue to push yourself, you’re only going to get more frustrated, and that will be reflected in your work.

3. Don’t procrastinate. Seriously. Just open the lesson or content to at least see what you’re getting into. Chances are, it’s not as hard as you expected and/or it won’t take as long as you think. I’ve put off so many projects to find out they really weren’t that big of a deal. And after you finish, reward yourself with some chocolate or a TV break.

4. Make time for class. If you normally spend eight hours at school, it’s going to take you eight hours to complete your schoolwork at home, too. If you wake up at noon, you’re going to be studying and working late into the night.

5. Do your favorite or easiest class first. Getting started is the hardest part. Once you do, you’ll find it’s easier to work, and the best way to do that is by starting with the favorite or easiest class.

Most of all, whether online or not, learn to take care of and be good to yourself. Have a great summer!

Lindsey Horsman is a junior in high school and lives in Minnesota.

---

SEE: Resources for Teens

How lessons of sobriety help with COVID-19

By Katy Vernon

Earlier this year, back in February before the whole world changed, I said to a friend: “I feel confident that a bad day won’t derail my sobriety, but I still worry that a tragedy might.”

I am mindful of how fragile my sobriety is because the closest I have come to losing it are the times I have taken it for granted.

Alcohol whispers in my ear that it’s no big deal. It tries to convince me that I was weak then and I’m stronger now. It’s a charmer that reminds me of the fun we had together. The meals it enhanced, the relaxation it provided, the ease of mind it allowed, the pain it removed. It’s a sly fox trying to convince me that it no longer poses any threat to the chickens.

So when I feel panicky, scared, grief stricken or lonely, I have to remind myself that I could so easily slip and let alcohol back into my life to take my sobriety away.

The first few weeks of the pandemic hit slow, then hard. While the Midwest was hearing about the tragedy of New York’s mounting deaths and the looming threat of community spread everywhere, COVID-19 still felt distant and surreal. Then the virus started to creep into my life.

Friends on Twitter started to post more cat pictures and ‘work-from-home’ hashtags, venues started to reach out to tell me they were on the fence about live shows, and each day started to shift into a weird, watch-and-wait standoff. No one wanted to overreact but at the same time, there was a growing realization that decisions needed to be made.

Then, one by one, events dropped off my calendar. For the past four years, playing music has been my main source of income. Every other job has been a flexible part-time gig designed to fit around that. It’s a privileged but perilous juggle. As performances started to get cancelled, I leaned into my part-time jobs -- until they started to crumble, too. In two weeks, everything I did to earn money ground to an indefinite halt.

Next, the emails came. My brother was in the hospital. My uncle was in the hospital. Both had COVID-19.

"Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans." I knew this. I even wrote a song about it. I had the tools for this.

The day I heard about my loved ones being sick and also so far way (in London), I realized more than ever what the word “triggered” meant. It gets thrown around a lot these days, but I had a very real and powerful experience that something pulled the trigger on my addiction. It felt like a shot from my heart to my head telling me to drink and take the pain away.

I moved slowly through one of my last work days in a sorrowful and worried haze, and on the drive home seriously thought about stopping at the liquor store. I even rehearsed in my mind the excuses I’d make to rationalize my choice. After all, I’d had a bad day. I was a grown-up. I could handle it just this once to get through the day. I wanted to numb myself. I didn’t want to feel the lump in my throat that was welling up and choking me. I wanted to wash that down with a glass of wine. Four years ago, I stopped drinking because even two glasses of wine would make me “brown-out” -- an experience marked by scary memory gaps, like a semi-blackout. Still, the sly fox of alcohol snuck back in to tell me it was just what I needed to change how I was feeling.

But I had to play the scene out to the end. Deep down, I know it never helps when I drink. I don’t judge others who are able to do so, but for me, the evidence is clear: alcohol is a depressing poison that destroys me.

I didn’t stop at the store. I didn’t drink. I paused long enough to remember how much my sobriety means to me. I also told my husband how close I’d come and why I didn’t follow through with it. Addiction wants to be your dirty little secret, and sharing about it takes away its power.

In four years of sober living, I have learned many things, and the timeless wisdom of the Serenity Prayer sums it all up as well as anything:

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.”

I couldn’t change the reality that my loved ones were sick. I couldn’t, and didn’t want to, persuade my band to play shows. I couldn’t show up to work if the venues and stores were closed. I couldn’t change the uncertainty that made it impossible to answer my children’s questions about whether they would be going back to school after spring break. The list of things I couldn’t control was endless …

But I could control my commitment to sobriety.

I noticed something interesting in those first few precarious days. I felt scared, panicked and uncertain, but it also dawned on me that I always felt that way. The intensity was greater, but those feelings were still strangely familiar.

I live with anxiety and depression, and it’s not easy. Both mental health concerns are part of the same composite me that struggled with alcohol. But, over time, they have also led me to develop coping skills, resilience and strength. As I saw relatively “stable” people in my social circles and in the media express their feelings of panic and dread, I began to realize I might be uniquely prepared for this difficult time. I could tap into my resources of sobriety and wellness. I prefer avoiding the term “silver lining” as it often minimizes difficulties and tragedies, but I’m grateful I’ve done a lot of work to learn how to get through challenges and live reasonably well. I’m grateful I don’t have to invent the tools that work. They are out there. Millions of people have survived and triumphed over addiction and mental health conditions.

Right now is a time to recognize that mental health is more important than ever. The stress, uncertainty and isolation of the pandemic are straining everyone. For those of us in recovery, it’s a particularly perfect storm of reasons to drink again. I thought I might not weather this, but I’m working hard to make sure I can, leaning into all I have learned along the way. Every time I make it past a trigger, I am beating back the sly fox and giving myself the gift of sobriety.

March seemed so long. My brother survived COVID-19, but I lost my uncle. Each day -- sometimes each moment -- was a challenge. I didn’t want to wish away time, but I needed to pace myself and learn how to navigate my moods. I also needed to ignore the constant social media mentions of day-drinking and virtual happy hours. Just when I was trying to hold onto sobriety, it felt like the whole world was leaning into drinking as therapy.

Now that we are two months into this, and the initial shock and disbelief has morphed into a new reality, I try to make a plan for each day. I pick a task I can focus on, and that helps to keep the depression and anxiety at bay.

I started by doing some gardening, and now I’m painting my house. It forces me to clear and declutter the rooms as I go through them. It’s been fun to look through old photos, childhood books, and my kids’ school art projects. Involving my children in the process has helped us all have some laughs and reminisce.

A coping mechanism I often turn to is simply to concentrate on the moment. ‘One day at a time’ is a well known maxim of recovery, and early on, it’s more like one moment at a time. Can I make it through this moment? How can I breathe and keep myself safe right now? What do I need to do to not hurt myself? What self-talk can I change to be kinder to myself? Do I need to eat, rest, walk, talk?

I’m controlling what I can and trying to keep the worry of what I can’t control at bay. I work hard to distract myself when needed, and also give myself permission to take days off. I try to ride waves of positive energy and mood, and when I’m not feeling up to something, I know it’s ok to take a break.

Perhaps the hardest part of this time is the uncertainty. As a musician, I am always planning two to 18 months ahead. Having to cancel so many performances, including my annual UK tour, is disheartening. But I’m getting by, focused on ways to stay healthy, calm and useful.

One day at a time.

Katy Vernon is a Dissonance board member.