It was obvious to others that I should not drink years before it even crossed my mind.
After a single drink, I immediately start behaving badly. At first I’m just a bit odd and make uncomfortable comments. By the second drink, I’m belligerent, shocking, and rude. Those around me describe how annoying I become. It took years for me to believe them. I always thought I was a blast.
When my kids were still very young, I decided I would change and drink only a couple times a week. But I couldn’t do it. I was trapped in my own body-mind. I didn’t have a choice: I had to get completely sh*t-faced everyday.
On top of that, I had had a back injury a couple years prior and had begun taking Vicodin. I wasn’t sure how much my back still hurt since I never went without taking the pills—lots of them. About 12-15 pills a day and sometimes more. Those were prescribed though. I did not think they were related to addiction. Just because I was supplementing with mail-order pills from Canada (not prescribed) didn’t mean it was an addiction, in my mind.
My decision to become sober was due to nearly killing myself and children.
I was only 1/2 mile from our home and drank two glasses of wine at a friend’s house. Of course I could drive home. Not a problem.
I made it to the intersection by my house and stopped at a red light. As I was lifting my foot off the brake I drove too close to the middle divider and pulled the steering wheel too hard. I made the SUV roll at least three times. It was so damaged people had to pull me and the kids from the only window that wasn’t completely smashed.
Somehow, none of us were injured. It was 13 years ago but if feels like yesterday.
I went home after the accident and drank myself in tears to a blackout sleep. In the morning, I started looking for a place were I could get help.
It is hard to believe that I had to do something so horrible before I would reach out for help. My shame was so intense that I wouldn’t admit that I could not stop drinking. It took my boys’ lives being in mortal danger.
My “rock bottom” was so damn awfully low.
I ended up in an outpatient program for six weeks. Went to daily meetings and got a great sponsor.
I got sober.
Stayed sober too, for 13 years.
Then May of 2015 happened. I fell apart. Had a complete mental breakdown and got sh*t faced like never before. My means was tequila. Lots of it. I was suicidal and drinking was one of my plans for checking out. Tequila was my back-up bullet. If I hadn’t drowned first, I would have most likely died of alcohol poisoning.
When I was rescued from drowning, I was hospitalized and sobered up again. It was my first time being sober in about a week. My depression was not as deep and looking at the wake of my destruction I wanted my sobriety back.
This time around hasn’t been as easy as my first clean-up. I have relapsed twice. Last weekend, I got seriously sh*t faced. My behavior was awful and my hangover was fierce. I want my sobriety back.
I really want it.
Back to AA, to meetings, to working a program, to doing what works. I don’t like AA really—but it does work. Regardless of what I feel, I need to shut up and just do it and not complain.
But, I am such a sh*t head. It is hard to do something that I don’t want to do.
But I will do it—I won’t live the rest of my days sh*t faced.