I wasnt planning to read your essay, Elissa, all in one go - but after starting, I couldnt stop. So beautifully written & somehow haunting but healing at the same time somehow! Thank you for your gorgeous honesty & prose.
Wow. This moved me in ways I didn’t see coming. Despite knowing what an incredible writer Elissa is, I still wasn’t prepared.
My drinking was always wrapped up and delivered to me in a package my dad dropped at my feet. I, too, was prided for having a hollow leg. I was a boastful drinker. I could throw them back with my dad. And I did. But it wasn’t until I lost my dad in 2020 that the real hiding began. My grieving brought my drinking to a new level, one that required more hiding - from myself, from my past, from my feelings. Then came inescapable shame. Shame that eventually got me sober one year later. My dad never got to witness me walking on these sober legs. Yet, he was pivotal in getting me sober. I thank him and I thank you both (Laura & Elissa) for making these words available to so many. So many who also hide and feel shame. Collectively, we can drop it.
Whoa. I also didn't plan to read the whole thing at once, just enough to get the feel of it, and I couldn't stop until the end, and now I wish it wasn't over - I want more. So gorgeous, and so spot-on, hitting on so many things I carry with me, too: the hiding, the generations of my family drinking, shame shame shame, all of it. I am so moved.
Such a gorgeous piece. Thank you for sharing. All the while reading, I was hoping it was indeed part of a book. Elissa's words sting and dance. When I began, I did not realize it was a guest essay. This is such an inspiring piece of truth and youth and the wounds and secrets that grow up with us. Thank you, thank you. I have "met" her folks in different essays and books - this felt holy.
Gorgeous, Elissa. And harrowing. And far too familiar. And this fills me with a rage that’s immediate and physical and blinding: “Recently, an estranged family member wrote to me to say I hope that whatever it is you’re writing, it’s nothing that I’ll be embarrassed to have my grandchildren read as adults.”
Elissa, what a beautiful rendering of the ugly face of addiction. I, too, let one eye guide me home more times than I could count, all while praying to the Up Shit Creek God to cloak me in invisibility so I could safely arrive. The hiding is second nature, it's an easy transaction, it works, until it doesn't. Thank you for writing this. xo
Words I'm living by ~ “You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.” Anne Lamott
Thank you for this incredible essay Elissa. Powerful, vulnerable and deeply moving.
i mean... just seeing those two words in succession and i'm sitting in my gramma's apartment in hallandale, feet dangling, how come there's no more jarlsberg, and where's the temptee so i can finish these crackers, guys.
Beautiful essay. Oh and this line: "The violent chaos of her nightly emotional rages against me began to click into place as evidence of her eventual borderline diagnosis like shards of glass in a kaleidoscope."
Elissa...I too hope this is part of a book. Your words bring me to tears. We have such different stories -- I grew up in a lower middle class family but the family violence, divorce and drinking culture was foundational. Thank you. As always, I am such s huge fan. 💜
I wasnt planning to read your essay, Elissa, all in one go - but after starting, I couldnt stop. So beautifully written & somehow haunting but healing at the same time somehow! Thank you for your gorgeous honesty & prose.
Me too, Lee. I didn’t make it to the yoga mat this morning because I couldn’t stop reading. What a hauntingly gorgeous piece.
I agree! I was really absorbed into this essay.
Wow. This moved me in ways I didn’t see coming. Despite knowing what an incredible writer Elissa is, I still wasn’t prepared.
My drinking was always wrapped up and delivered to me in a package my dad dropped at my feet. I, too, was prided for having a hollow leg. I was a boastful drinker. I could throw them back with my dad. And I did. But it wasn’t until I lost my dad in 2020 that the real hiding began. My grieving brought my drinking to a new level, one that required more hiding - from myself, from my past, from my feelings. Then came inescapable shame. Shame that eventually got me sober one year later. My dad never got to witness me walking on these sober legs. Yet, he was pivotal in getting me sober. I thank him and I thank you both (Laura & Elissa) for making these words available to so many. So many who also hide and feel shame. Collectively, we can drop it.
🙏🏼💕
What a great read. I have a story in me that others won’t be fond of either. You inspire me to get writing. Well done.
Whoa. I also didn't plan to read the whole thing at once, just enough to get the feel of it, and I couldn't stop until the end, and now I wish it wasn't over - I want more. So gorgeous, and so spot-on, hitting on so many things I carry with me, too: the hiding, the generations of my family drinking, shame shame shame, all of it. I am so moved.
Such a gorgeous piece. Thank you for sharing. All the while reading, I was hoping it was indeed part of a book. Elissa's words sting and dance. When I began, I did not realize it was a guest essay. This is such an inspiring piece of truth and youth and the wounds and secrets that grow up with us. Thank you, thank you. I have "met" her folks in different essays and books - this felt holy.
Gorgeous, Elissa. And harrowing. And far too familiar. And this fills me with a rage that’s immediate and physical and blinding: “Recently, an estranged family member wrote to me to say I hope that whatever it is you’re writing, it’s nothing that I’ll be embarrassed to have my grandchildren read as adults.”
Thank you for this essay it was beautiful and so vivid.
Elissa, what a beautiful rendering of the ugly face of addiction. I, too, let one eye guide me home more times than I could count, all while praying to the Up Shit Creek God to cloak me in invisibility so I could safely arrive. The hiding is second nature, it's an easy transaction, it works, until it doesn't. Thank you for writing this. xo
Words I'm living by ~ “You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.” Anne Lamott
Thank you for this incredible essay Elissa. Powerful, vulnerable and deeply moving.
jarlsberg, triscuits, hiding,
shards of glass in a kaleidoscope
the dissolving of ancient shame as each word unfurls
thank you elissa for bringing back elements of my own childhood in such surprising fashion
Thank you Elena 🙏🏻 And for your mention of Triscuits and Jarlsburg……💗
i mean... just seeing those two words in succession and i'm sitting in my gramma's apartment in hallandale, feet dangling, how come there's no more jarlsberg, and where's the temptee so i can finish these crackers, guys.
SISTER.
Hallandale!
TempTee!
SISTER.
What a great story , beautifully written. I certainly knew how to hide my drinking. Thank´s for sharing
Stunning. A whole novel in an essay.
Beautiful, Elissa!!! Thank you, Laura, for this!
Elissa, I can hardly wait to read more of your work!
Beautiful essay. Oh and this line: "The violent chaos of her nightly emotional rages against me began to click into place as evidence of her eventual borderline diagnosis like shards of glass in a kaleidoscope."
Elissa...I too hope this is part of a book. Your words bring me to tears. We have such different stories -- I grew up in a lower middle class family but the family violence, divorce and drinking culture was foundational. Thank you. As always, I am such s huge fan. 💜
Thanks Peggy 💗
Thank you for sharing. I love how Elissa talks about shame.