Alcoholism is messy. It’s not just the Hollywood version where someone loses a job and then finds redemption after a thirty-day stint in a luxury rehab center. Real addiction, especially the kind that targets women in silence, is far more predatory. If you’ve spent any time looking into the dark, unvarnished corners of documentary filmmaking, you’ve probably come across My Name Was Bette: The Life and Death of an Alcoholic. It’s a film that doesn’t just observe; it bleeds.
Released by Sherri VandenAkker, the documentary is a forensic, deeply personal autopsy of her mother’s life. Bette VandenAkker wasn't a statistic. She was a nurse. She was a mother. She was a person who slowly dissolved into a chemical dependence that eventually claimed her life.
People search for this film because they see themselves or their parents in it. It’s a mirror.
Why My Name Was Bette Hits Different
Most addiction stories focus on the "why." Why did they start? What was the trauma? While My Name Was Bette touches on those elements, its primary power lies in the "how." How does a body physically break down? How does a family’s love morph into a mixture of resentment, pity, and exhausted grief?
Sherri doesn't hold back. You see the photos. You see the physical transition from a vibrant, healthy woman to someone whose skin and eyes reflect the systemic failure of her organs. It’s jarring. Honestly, it’s meant to be. The film serves as a medical and emotional roadmap of the progression of female alcoholism, which often looks very different from the male experience.
The Physiology of the Fade
Women metabolize alcohol differently. We know this now. Science tells us that women have less alcohol dehydrogenase—the enzyme that breaks down booze—in their stomachs. This means more alcohol enters the bloodstream directly. In the documentary, we see the physiological toll this took on Bette.
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- It wasn't just "drinking too much."
- It was the gradual yellowing of the skin (jaundice).
- The cognitive decline that looked like early-onset dementia but was actually the brain being pickled in real-time.
- The loss of muscle mass and the bloating of the abdomen.
Watching these changes through a slideshow of family photos is a visceral experience that a textbook can't replicate. It’s one thing to read about cirrhosis; it’s another to see it written on the face of a mother.
The Stigma of the "Functional" Alcoholic
For a long time, Bette was functional. That’s the trap, isn't it? As long as the house is clean or the bills are paid, we tell ourselves it’s fine. Bette was a nurse. She was part of a profession dedicated to healing, yet she couldn't apply that same care to herself. This irony isn't lost on the viewer.
The documentary highlights a specific type of isolation. There is a profound shame attached to the "alcoholic mother" trope that differs from the "alcoholic father." Society tends to view the latter as a tragic hero or a flawed provider, but an alcoholic mother is often judged as a fundamental failure of nature. This shame drives the drinking further underground. Bette drank in private. She hid bottles. She lived a double life until the two lives collided and collapsed.
Breaking the Generational Silence
Sherri VandenAkker didn't just make this film to mourn. She made it to document the "un-pretty" parts of grief. In the film, there’s an exploration of how addiction ripples outward. It’s not a stone dropped in a pond; it’s a grenade in a small room.
The interviews with family members and friends aren't polished. They are raw. You can hear the lingering anger in their voices, the kind of anger that only comes from loving someone who refuses to be saved. It’s a difficult watch because it asks the audience to sit with the fact that sometimes, love isn't enough. You can want someone to live with every fiber of your being, and they can still choose the bottle.
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The Role of Domesticity and Alcohol
We talk a lot about "Wine Mom" culture today. You see the signs in every home decor aisle: Mommy’s Juice or Wine O’Clock. My Name Was Bette feels like a haunting precursor to this conversation. While Bette’s era was different, the underlying pressure to perform domestic perfection while self-medicating is a theme that resonates loudly in 2026.
The film suggests that Bette’s addiction was fueled by the mundane pressures of her life and the lack of an outlet for her own identity outside of her roles as a caregiver. When the caregiving roles became too heavy, the alcohol offered a temporary lightness that eventually became a permanent weight.
Technical Execution and Rawness
From a filmmaking perspective, My Name Was Bette isn't a big-budget production. It doesn't have the flashy graphics of a Netflix docuseries. But that’s why it works. The grainy footage, the scanned family snapshots, and the simple narration create an intimacy that feels like you’re sitting in Sherri’s living room looking through a photo album.
It’s an educational tool as much as a memoir. Medical professionals often use this documentary in ethics and addiction classes. Why? Because it puts a human face on the pathology. It forces students to see the patient not as a "liver in room 402," but as Bette—a woman who liked to garden, who had a career, and who was loved.
What We Can Learn From Bette’s Story
If you are watching My Name Was Bette or researching it because you’re worried about yourself or a loved one, the takeaway isn't just despair. It’s a call for early intervention. The "rock bottom" myth is dangerous. If you wait for rock bottom, you might end up like Bette—reaching a point where the body is too far gone to recover even if the spirit is willing.
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The film emphasizes that alcoholism is a progressive disease. It doesn’t stay still. It’s either getting better or it’s getting worse.
Actionable Steps for Those Impacted by Addiction
The story of Bette is a cautionary tale, but it also provides a framework for what to do differently.
- Acknowledge the physical toll early. Don't wait for jaundice or cognitive slips. If the drinking is daily and increasing, the internal damage has already started.
- Separate the person from the disease. One of the most powerful things Sherri does is maintain her mother’s dignity while hating the disease. It’s okay to be angry at the addiction while still loving the person.
- Seek gender-specific treatment. Since women process alcohol and the shame associated with it differently, look for programs that specialize in female-centered recovery and address co-occurring disorders like anxiety or trauma.
- Watch the film as a family. If you are struggling to explain the stakes to someone, My Name Was Bette can act as a bridge. It’s hard to argue with the photographic evidence of Bette’s decline.
The Legacy of the Film
Years after its release, My Name Was Bette continues to circulate in recovery circles and film festivals. It hasn't aged because the problem hasn't gone away. If anything, the isolation of the last few years has only made the "hidden" alcoholic more common.
Sherri VandenAkker gave her mother a voice after she lost it. By naming the documentary My Name Was Bette, she reclaims her mother’s identity from the generic label of "alcoholic." She reminds us that every person struggling with a substance has a name, a history, and a family that is waiting for them to come back.
The film ends, but the conversation it starts is lifelong. It’s about the hard work of staying sober and the even harder work of forgiving those who couldn't.
Next Steps for Recovery and Understanding
If this story resonates with your current situation, the most effective path forward involves immediate, practical changes to your environment and support system.
- Consult a Hepatologist or GP: If there has been long-term heavy drinking, a simple blood panel to check liver enzymes (ALT/AST) and an ultrasound can identify damage before it becomes irreversible.
- Audit Your "Functional" Metrics: Stop measuring health by your ability to show up to work. Instead, look at your sleep quality, your irritability when not drinking, and your memory.
- Utilize Support for the Family: Organizations like Al-Anon or adult children of alcoholics (ACA) groups are essential. The documentary proves that the family needs healing just as much as the individual who is drinking.
- Digital Detox from Alcohol Culture: Unfollow accounts that glamorize "wine culture" or use alcohol as a punchline for stress. The reality is what happened to Bette, not the polished images on a social feed.