Like the rest of the country, I was saddened but not surprised when I heard of Whitney Houston's untimely death last weekend. When I finished reading Terry McMillan's book Getting To Happy last year--the sequel to her novel Waiting To Exhale--I silently prayed to God that Whitney Houston would be healthy enough to be recast in her role as Savannah when Getting To Happy hit the big screen. But I guess it was not to be.
She follows in the footsteps of other talented singers like Billie Holiday, Judy Garland and Michael Jackson. It is so scary to see how addictions can take down celebrities who seem to have it all: talent, beauty and money. To make matters worse, their fall from the top is highly chronicaled in the media, making it all the more painful for them--and the world--to see.
I've had a bad feeling about Whitney for awhile. When I watched Oprah's last interview with her on OWN network last night I remembered why I was so worried about her. She said she quit taking drugs but liked to have a drink once in awhile. Anyone who knows about addictions knows that if you are an addict, drugs AND drinking are off limits.
How ironic that the last two days of her life, Whitney was reportedly kicking back Patron shots and guzzeling champagne like there was no tomorrow. In Oprah's interview, she claimed that drinking was her ex-husband's Bobby's problem--not hers. She just had a problem with drugs. So when her enablers removed the pot and cocaine, she simply replaced that with zanax, valium and lots of booze. I believe that combo contributed to her death.
Of course, only time will tell. All I know is, if you are trading one drug of choice for another, you have no right to call yourself sober. I've been up close and personal with more than one boyfriend that has battled one addiction or another. My old flame Stephen McGrath died last April at only 48 years old of alcohol abuse. I've seen this before, and I will probably see this again but it still breaks my heart.