No one chooses to be an addict. It’s sometimes common for people who don’t understand what addiction is to ask the question “Why don’t they just stop!?” The truth is, us addicts lose the ability to “just stop”. When the pain inside becomes so unbearable, we literally don’t have a choice anymore, and the disease takes over. It tells us we have control and we do it because we want to.
You only live once, right? Yet, I can remember so many times during my years of active alcoholism, my inner dialog saying, “Don’t do this. You shouldn’t do this.” But I did it. One more time. I picked up that drink and found myself blacked out. I would wake up in the morning, feeling like death, bruises, broken belongings and injured hearts, asking the people around me what kind of shit storm went through because couldn’t remember what I said or did. I’d always say I would NEVER do it again. I was DONE. That was the LAST TIME. But it wasn’t, and deep down I knew that. I couldn’t stop.
Somewhere along the line, I became a “troubled” child. No one could ever quite pinpoint what was wrong with me. I was sensitive and moody. Whether it was the experiences of my life that set the stage for my addiction, or I had the addict “gene” (whatever that is) I don’t know, and it really doesn’t matter. I may have ended up like this no matter what my situation was.
The bottom line was when I discovered alcohol and drugs, I felt a fire light inside of me. I finally found something that made the pain go away, took away my insecurity, and made me feel like I was somebody. Alleluia!
In our society, we are raised to feel like we have to “find” happiness. If only this happened, or that happened – then we’ll be happy. I was never satisfied. I always desired more. More from life and more from alcohol and drugs. My sense of self was so fractured, that nothing, or no one could fill the hole inside of me. No matter how much I had of something, it was never enough. I always knew I was different. I had difficulty in relationships. I used differently than my friends. (The ones who used like me, are either in recovery, still out there, or sadly, some have lost their lives to this disease. I know how easily that could’ve been me.)
My disease became so strong that all I thought about was using. During activities that didn’t include drinking, like you know, going to school, playing sports, going to work, going to a movie, visiting family or just simply hanging out with some non-alcoholic friends, was difficult and I barely made it through. I found myself counting the minutes – even seconds – until I could leave and get loaded. The pain in my soul was so strong and I didn’t know any other way to relieve it. So I kept on using.
I did my best to hide how sick I was, so that no one would find out the truth about me. I didn’t want to be a bad person, but I was just so full of self pity. (Pour me, pour me another.) I’ve learned that my ego was so big, that I thought the world needed to change to suit me. I thought it certainly wasn’t my fault I was like this… and the years went on and on like that. Constant disappointments. Failures. Anxiety and depression.
My expectations were unrealistic and left me feeling isolated and desperate for some one or something to rescue me. I was miserable and hopeless. It got to the point of seeing nothing good in my life and the desire to end it all. All I had was my ability to still drink. Thank God, at least I had that.
At the end of my drinking career, I couldn’t talk to anyone without a drink in my hand, I couldn’t feel any sort of joy unless alcohol was running through my veins. But now I know that the “joy” I felt, wasn’t real. My addiction had taken control of me and I didn’t even know how or when it happened.
For years I wanted to stop. I tried to stop. I tried cutting down on my drinking, making “rules” for myself, like I would only drink on weekends. I wouldn’t have alcohol in my house. I would only drink socially. I would count my drinks (when I reached 9 or 10 I always lost count). I would exercise regularly. Eat better. Find hobbies. I told myself “I got this”… But I failed. Every. Time.
Again, another blackout, another excruciating hangover, a new list of regrets, hurting everyone in my path, more emotional pain. Over and over again. It got worse and worse. It’s a progressive disease and it wants nothing more than to kill the person using. People are dying everyday… Who would choose that!?
My truth is that I’m an alcoholic. I’ve always been an alcoholic. I suffer from a brain disease that tells me I’m not worth it. I don’t matter. The world is out to get me and the only solution is to protect myself by numbing myself. But the truth is that voice in my head that makes me believe that picking up a drink or a drug is going to fix it is ALWAYS wrong.
Now I call myself a recovering alcoholic and it feels good. The reality is that I am worth it. There is more to me than my disease. I can CHOOSE to be happy. I can CHOOSE to work hard for what I want. I can CHOOSE to become the person I always dreamed of being. SOBER. If you told me this early on, I would’ve laughed at you.
How the hell do people stay sober? Hey, I come from a town of around 800 people and a bar on every corner. Even losing my brother as a direct result of this disease wasn’t enough to get me to stop. No, I had to admit to my innermost self that I was an alcoholic and I couldn’t manage my life alone anymore. I needed help.
Addiction isn’t a choice. They say early on, many of us addicts might have been able to stop. But once the addiction takes control, it takes away our soul. I’m convinced the only thing that can save us is the power of something much bigger than we are.
In the beginning of my sobriety, the thought of giving my life to a higher power, and making that decision everyday for the rest of my life, was absolutely terrifying. Obviously, as an addict I have huge issues with control and trust. Trusting in something I can’t see or touch makes no sense, but I made a decision to trust the people who had come before me. They had done it, and it seemed to work for them.
These people told me life wouldn’t always be sunshine and roses, but it would be better than it used to be. I thought anything would be better than the pain I lived in day after day, so I surrendered. I also thought I could do the steps and I would magically be a different person. Unfortunately, but fortunately, that’s not the case. There is no cure for this disease. The best we can do is continue to work on it.
Sometimes it’s enough to just continue to take it one day at a time, work with others and stay willing. It’s a lifetime journey. I’m fully convinced that doing it my way didn’t work before, it won’t work now – or ever. They say we are like men who have lost their legs, they never grow new ones. You can’t turn a pickle back into a cucumber. Well, I’m definitely pickled… But there is hope for us. God’s grace is a miraculous thing.
At two years sober, I am growing as a person. I’m becoming a woman who takes responsibility for my actions and my life. I’m growing out of that hurt little girl, overwhelmed with self pity, and realizing that my life isn’t so bad. I enjoy normal activities now, like going out to eat at a restaurant that doesn’t serve booze, going to an amusement park just for the rides, sitting through a movie, and hanging out with sober people.
I laugh, I cry and I feel the feelings that were so difficult for me to feel before. And I get through it all without taking a drink. I don’t obsess over alcohol. It’s a freaking miracle. It’s no mystery that life is hard, but it’s hard for everyone. People from all walks of life struggle. Addiction is part of being human, we are always searching to feel good and be liked by others. Whether with alcohol, drugs, food, sex, exercise, facebook, etc. I’m learning to just live in the moment. Ride the wave. Have gratitude. I think I’ve undergone some sort of transformation. (No, really!)
There are so many people out there like me, that don’t even realize they are addicted, let alone there is help for their problem. When my disease tells me to put my walls back up, back away from people, and that a drink would take the feelings away, I know it’s because my disease wants nothing more than to see me loaded and miserable.
I need to talk about it. I need to share how I feel with other people, because maybe there is someone who is struggling that needs to hear what I have to say. Honesty is hard, because no one likes to think they are different. I’ve accepted that I’m sick, I have a disease that I can’t just wish away. But I’m teachable, my disease doesn’t define me, and I will be okay, as long as I keep the spirit in my heart and continue to work with others.
The truth about addiction is that it affects everyone. Overcoming it has been the hardest thing I have ever done and will probably ever do. But recovery is possible. I see it in my meetings everyday. People who were once hopeless, find hope, success and learn to truly love themselves and others. Without any expectations. These are the people who give the most. These people teach us that the only thing the addict needs to do perfectly is be willing to get better. It is only then, that they will have a chance to walk in the light.
But even if someone chooses recovery, that is only the beginning. Sometimes growth is slow. I used to look at drinking and using as “living life to the fullest”, but that was only an illusion. I was trapped in the prison of my own mind, with no way out. I’m so grateful I don’t have to live that way anymore. And you know what? As it turns out, this life is pretty amazing.
