I knew I was stomping on toes when I was writing Diary of an Alcoholic Housewife. I wasn't just telling my story, I was telling other people's stories, too--or at least my side of their stories. I considered killing my book numerous times but kept writing--knowing there would be fallout--because I felt encouraging other alcoholics to jump off the warped merry-go-round they're riding before getting flung off was worth it.
I cringed as I reported my bad behavior and that of my friends and family. I wanted to edit out human frailty, get rid of the flaws that cause us to nod with self-recognition. But seeing ourselves is helpful. We can correct what we're aware of, and it's comforting to know we're not alone.
As I wrote about my friend Kelly (not her real name), my head was bobbing. Her manipulative behavior was easily something I would have sunk to if I were losing my favorite drinking buddy to abstinence. If Kelly had quit drinking on me, I, too, would have made snarky comments, offered one of her good friends her drinking tiara in an attempt to coax her back to my inebriated throne. As I wrote, I knew Kelly was going to hate every word--and me.
I continued to be friends with Kelly because our sons played sports together and we had friends in common. Sometimes I'd see Kelly after I'd been writing and feel two-faced. I wanted to tell Kelly about my book, but the right time didn't present itself until a month and a half ago.
I told my friends about Diary of an Alcoholic Housewife when I signed my publishing contract with Hazelden. During the winter holidays, I informed them that my book was being released this spring and excerpts from it were running on Hazelden's website Sober24.com. I called Kelly and asked her out to lunch, planning to give her a heads-up about my book.
"I've been reading excerpts," Kelly told me. "I can't stop reading them. You're brave for writing what you did."
"Well," I said, seizing the moment, "I've been wanting to talk to you about that. You and I had some rough spots that year."
"You're scaring me Brenda."
I encouraged Kelly to look at my blog, wilhelmson.wordpress.com. She logged on immediately.
"I'm Kelly, right?" she asked.
"Yes."
I stayed on the phone with Kelly for more than an hour while she read. At places she cried. There were long silences. "Am I the only one who looks bad?" she asked.
"I don't look good," I said. "Audrey and Hope read my blog and they're a little cool toward me now. A lot of people aren't going to like it. I don't think my aunts are going to be too happy with the way my father is portrayed. This was hard for me. I'm not trying to hurt people, I'm trying to help people."
"I know," Kelly said. "But I couldn't have done what you did. I couldn't have hurt my friends and family."
Our conversation went as well as it could have. Afterward, a weird gut-churning mixture of sadness and relief sat with me for days. Then I received an email from WordPress notifying me that someone had commented on my blog and the comment was awaiting my approval. I knew before opening it that it was from Kelly. Kelly and her friend, CM, who is barely an acquaintance of mine, had attempted to hide behind the name Martha, my mother-in-law's name. WordPress attaches email addresses to comments, so I knew the comment originated from CM's account.
"Brenda Wilhelmson has raked everyone who loved her through the coals with major lies and deceipt. I know the people in her stories. There are so many blatant lies!! Who markets their story like this? Someone who is so self absorbed with their self pity they find it necessary to embellish their reality in order to gain sympathy. People need to know the truth. I hope she gets sued for slander!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Her friends were so kind to her and they supported her 100% in her efforts to become sober, especially her perceived evil father who must be rolling over in his grave. If another journalist comes out with a book about the TRUTH about Brenda, I'd buy that book for sure. This one should be burned."
I saved the comment but didn't post it--until now. After I received notification about Kelly's WordPress comment, the Chicago Sun-Times ran a story on me and the reporter asked if I had any regrets about writing Diary of an Alcoholic Housewife. I answered, "Regrets? No. Mixed feelings? Yes."
I made the decision, many times, to be honest and let the chips fall where they fell. I took good notes and reported my life as it happened. I wanted to spare the people in my book as well as myself. I hate when people are angry with me, think badly of me. It would have been much easier if I'd swept the uncomfortable parts under the rug. But I don't have one of those rugs anymore.
For more, visit www.brendawilhelmson.com.