To front & posture like I was the biggest Amy Winehouse fan would be ludicrous. In fact, the only reason I’m even vaguely aware of Ms Winehouse’s music is because of the media/press coverage of her substance abuse problem.
My introduction to her, a little over 3 years ago, was short & sweet.
In the beginning stages of my rehabilitation, I made sure I bogged my Blackberry down with as much music as possible. I knew I’d need as many real-world distractions as I could handle. Of the 200+ songs that inevitably became the soundtrack for my redemption road traveling, Amy’s “Rehab” was truly the one motivating song I had. Somebody brought the song to my attention, because they thought it was applicable to what I was going through at the time. I’d listen to it continuously & continually, to & from Kaiser Hospital, daily.
I knew how she felt, because the only reason I was letting these strangers get close enough to me to “help” was because I didn’t have a choice. Too weak to help myself (mentally, spiritually, emotionally) & too dumb to stop drinking on my own. Because of that, I admired the fact that they told her she should go to rehab, & she said “no, no, no,” yet that bullheaded nonchalance gave me the proper outlook on what needed to be done, because even as damaged goods, I knew I’d hit rock bottom.
& for the record, in any addiction, rock bottom is one level above
not-so accidental suicide.
To wake up today, plug in, & see that Amy Winehouse succumbed to what we were fighting made me sad. Substance abuse is real.
Rest in peace Amy Winehouse.