Every Friday I try to put up something (hopefully a story) from someone who is struggling or has struggled with alcohol to inspire you all. Here’s the latest and I think it’s a good one. If you relate to what you read and want to talk to women who care, come on over to our online meeting place The Booze Free Brigade.

When I first wrote to Stefanie to write another DGDF, I thought I was writing about how great my life was once I stopped drinking, how clear things were to me and how much better I felt about every person in my life, including myself. But, that’s a load of bull.

I am writing to you because I am a person who is happy to have stopped drinking but lately has been seeing reasons to drink that scare the crap out of me.

So, as long as we’re being honest.

I just had a baby last September. My second. I have a two year old and a five month old. So 10 months of my 19 month sobriety were pregnant months. I question every day if that really “counts” as true sobriety. But I think it’s because I want to put as much time as I can between me and my drinking days. I want to look back and say, “Well I made this really, really important and really, really hard decision one day and well, now, look how wonderfully put together I am.”

But I’m not.

I’ve been experiencing some postpartum depression, some anxiety and a whole lot of overwhelming feelings. The type when you just don’t feel like you’re good in any one area of your life, so why even try? The feeling that used to lead me (and leads most alcoholics) to drink. The feeling that you want to get rid of, so you numb it, thinking that it will eventually go away.

I used to think that I would experience less of life if I was not drinking— nothing fun and extreme—no extreme happiness, belly laughter, no dancing and not caring how I looked. But what I have come to see in not drinking is this: It isn’t what you are not experiencing that you miss— but the things you are now experiencing that you never did before.

I never paid attention to the look my husband gives me across the room at a party or wedding because I was so often dodging his gaze (and thus his judgment) as I filled up my wine glass. I never knew how many engaging conversations you could have at a party because I was always excusing myself to refill my drink or call over the bartender. I never knew that I could be sober and be completely fulfilled. Not drinking used to be synonymous with deprivation. But, really, it’s the not drinking that baptizes you and truly transforms you and your life.

I think about the regrets I have and how I won’t ever have to go back to that stomach ache and terrible humiliation that I often suffered from in silence. I’ve come to see that regret is the most powerful emotion we have at times. Regret is our conscience telling us we did wrong. Regret is what tells our brain, “that wasn’t okay.” Regret helps us to move on, heal and be better. Some people say they live their life without regrets like it means they experience more than the rest of us. I think we need to live life paying close attention to our regrets because it’s the only barometer we have as to who we truly want to be.

I can’t tell you there is a secret to getting through it. I can only tell you what I have found in myself. When I can be honest, really, brutally honest with myself is when I make the decisions that really change me. When I admit that I need a meeting or therapy or a friend’s shoulder or my husband’s arms. When I hug my kids and say, “Maybe this is why I am going through all this; maybe these little people here are enough of a reason.”

And I can tell you it is my two kids that will forever make my decision to stop drinking the most intoxicating (ha, pardon the pun!) and freeing decision of my life. Growing up in a house where alcohol caused a great deal of dysfunction, an interaction like the following is like gold.

Last week my son walked up to my husband who was drinking a beer and said, “Daddy beer? Mommy beer?”

“No, that’s Daddy’s beer,” I replied.

“Mommy’s soda?”

“Yes, Parker. Mommy drinks soda.”

Please enjoy Mary’s story and if you relate and want to talk about it you can go to our online support group The Booze Free Brigade. All people with a desire to quit drinking or at least examine their drinking are welcome.

For those who know me well, most would be shocked that I quit drinking. Funny thing is that I am the one who is shocked the most. Always the party girl throughout college, I really enjoyed the idea of getting ready to go party, the idea of drinking with my friends, meeting guys, but not always remembering everything I did or say the next day.

Oh God. I never gave drinking a second thought. I socially drank during my first marriage, but not too much during the week (I don’t think). Oops, I take that back. My first marriage was so toxic that I would party with my friends after softball games after work, sometimes into the night to avoid going home. I had two small children but they were never without their dad or a sitter. I was not one to turn down a good happy hour!

The marriage predictably ended but I continued to have fun with my friends when possible. A few years later, my wonderful new husband and I looked forward to the weekends. A couple of beers before dinner, and always a luscious bottle of wine during dinner. We kept this up for a while and really enjoyed it. Sometimes the night would be hilarious and others would result in a spat, due, I am sure, to the drinking. However, my husband traveled all the time. New husband, new home, new baby, step-children….lots of adjustments being made. Oh, and I had a full time job as well. Trying to keep everyone happy really stressed me out. Having to navigate all the issues that come with children while my husband was away was no walk in the park either.

For a long time my drinking was limited to weekends, but then I would have one beer, then two beers, then a glass of wine, then maybe another. One drink became two, two became three, etc. How many women do this after work??? Tons. Boredom, loneliness, stress..what else is new? I knew that after about 9:00 I was pretty much inert. Need help with homework? Laundry to be done? Bills to pay? Not going to happen. I think I just wanted to check out. Deep down inside, I was not happy. It was so ridiculous, I knew had a problem when my first thought leaving work was, “Do I have any wine?” It literally dominated my night. I did not want to be asked to drive anywhere, because I wanted to have a glass of wine. I stopped every other night on the way home to resupply, all the while telling myself that I should not be doing this. “See if you can go one night without it”, I would say to myself. It was really bugging me.

I want to clarify that I never drank to the point of passing out or blacking or throwing up. It wasn’t like that at all. Drinking was a comfort.

So, what happened? I found myself not enjoying it anymore. I hated the feeling the next day. I never prayed to quit, because I didn’t think I was an alcoholic. I thought I just had a bad habit. I know that God somehow helped me stop. I guess it was the night that my daughter and I went to a friend’s house for dinner on a school night and we went through a couple of bottles of wine, just chatting all night. Thank God she only lived a few blocks away, because when I got up to DRIVE home, I was really unsteady. I did drive home with my daughter, but could literally hardly see. I was terrified! I came home and passed out on the bed. If there was any emergency I would never have known it. I woke up the next day to go to work and had the worst hangover I have had in 20 years. What in the hell was I doing? It was pathetic. I quit that day. The thought of alcohol made me sick so I decided to see how long I could go without it. Luckily, I stuck to my plan. I never went to rehab and I am thankful to this day.

My life has changed dramatically. I never have to worry about driving drunk. I am productive at night. Fully engaged and clear headed in all conversations. I am present. I feel responsible and mature. I have a new sense of humility in that I know God did this for me because I never really thought I had a serious problem. That swollen look from my face is gone (according to my family) and almost best of all, I sleep like a baby! Drinking really disrupted my sleep.

Did my social life change? You bet. Who wants to have a nondrinker at a party? Not many. However, I know that many of my friends are struggling with this issue and want a way out but don’t know what to do. They are afraid of losing friends, not being popular, afraid to face their fears, afraid of nonacceptance. It’s the fear that controls their life. Wish I could help…I just listen.

I have been sober for 7 years, and never, ever look back. It is a gift.

I’m trying to post these suckers every week but I don’t get as many as I’d like. If you have a story you’d like to share please email me and let me know. I will be happy to help give you direction if you want. Also, as always, if anything you read here rings true for you, just know that you are in good company. There is hope and there is help. Feel free to join us at the Booze Free Brigade if you want to make a change.

“My love affair with alcohol began at age 13. I came from a loving and stable home, but I quickly fell in with the drinking crowd once I discovered this fabulous thing that would free me of all my inhibitions. I was always the one person who would get drunker than anyone else, never know my limit and occasionally blackout. I drank the same way all through my teens, my twenties and thirties, but was extremely successful in school and work, and managed to fit in well with the “work hard play hard” crowd. It honestly never occurred to me that maybe I was an alcoholic – never. And certainly no one else suggested that to me.

A few times in my twenties I tried to control my drinking unsuccessfully, but I didn’t think too much of it. By age 36 I had a successful career, loving husband and two beautiful children. But after two year-long sober periods while pregnant, I was beating myself up daily unable to figure out how I could possibly be so weak as to not be able to control this one thing in my life.

I simply had to drink at night, it was not an option to go without.

Nothing bad happened (except a few embarrassing nights out with friends, but those were few & far between with kids), but I was suffering deeply inside. I had a little window that year… there was one moment when I Googled “Alcoholic”, with tears streaming down my face – I couldn’t figure out how I could be sober for so long while pregnant and so quickly go back to the way I was!! That window passed and about a year passed by, with depression and anxiety slowly starting to fill my life. Finally one night I broke down, I looked up at the ceiling and begged God to help me find the strength to solve this hell that I was in. I didn’t know where to go (obviously not AA, since I did not really believe I was an alcoholic). I just remembered hearing somewhere “help is out there” so I did my best to find something – the next day I called a private addictions counselor. I actually envisioned in my mind that the counselor would tell me the way to drink responsibly! I had a brutal reality check as I learned the cold hard facts about alcoholism. I loved that first meeting as I knew instantly that I could not deny what I was being told, I accepted that I was powerless almost immediately (it was hard, but I was honest with myself and the facts).

The week I stopped drinking was brutal, absolutely brutal. I was told “it will pass” and I held on to this belief. The next two months were also extremely difficult. I continued with the counselor weekly and tapped into some deep rooted issues. When I told my family and friends all of them were shocked and resisted the idea that I had any sort of a problem. But only I knew the internal hell that I had been living – I had reached rock bottom internally.

I have been sober now almost four years. The first year was very difficult. I had to discover who I was, learn how to socialize, how to live without alcohol. But now, my life is everything I hoped it would be. It amazes me how much I can do now – the world is my oyster. My relationships are deeper and more meaningful, my depression and anxiety gone, my personality the same but better, and I am truly happy. Many days go by when I don’t even think about alcohol. Social functions are just that, a chance to socialize, not a chance to drink. And I compare my perspective on life now vs. the last few years of drinking as looking at life with a crystal clear lens versus a dirty, muddy window. Life is beautiful, and I intend to live it to the fullest.”

And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. – Anais Nin

Today is the day. Tuesday, October 11, 2011. I want to remember this day forever.

The day I decided to stop drinking.

The sunrise was beautiful this morning. Possibly the best one I’ve ever seen. Pink and blue hues in the sky sprayed with just the right amount of clouds, the brilliant orange sun barely peeking over the fall trees, as if uncertain of making its appearance.
There are knots in my stomach. I can’t breathe (allergies). I am on my period.

I am incredibly exhausted from being awake all night, tossing and turning and trying to banish the unwanted thoughts that kept racing through my head, taking up space where happy memories should be.

I look like absolute shit; my face is broken out, there are heavy purplish bags under my eyes, my hair is frizzy and disheveled. I am wearing an oversized Nike sweatshirt belonging to my husband, stained because of me, a constant reminder (as if I need one) of how I’ve continually let him down. But not again. Not again.

Not ever again.

I am terrified. I have never been in control of my own life, never been in the driver’s seat, always a passenger, always letting someone else or something else take the blame. I can’t do that anymore. I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t.

I joke around a lot and talk about drinking more than I actually do it; I exaggerate when I’ve had a bad day and say things like, “I want to drink my body weight in alcohol,” and it’s funny. I’m being sarcastic and it’s funny, and everyone laughs. Except it stopped being funny. I can control myself some of the time, which is why it’s been so easy to rationalize why I continue to drink, not to mention that I live in a town where drinking is practically mandatory, and raging alcoholics are accepted with open arms. I blend in here. Alcohol is socially acceptable. It’s the times that I don’t stay in control that outweigh the times that I do – those are the times that, at this point, have accumulated to an incredible number that I don’t even want to think about. It’s killing my marriage. If this were reversed, I’d have left Andy by now.

I have used alcohol as a scapegoat, every time. I could do anything with it. I could be invincible whenever I wanted – do, say, or act however I pleased when the numbing liquid flowed through my body. If I offended someone, “I was drunk. That’s not the real me. It was alcohol.” If I did anything bad, it was the reason. I’ve relied on it. It has been a friend. A friend who’s always been there for me, no matter what. And breaking up is hard to do.

I am absolutely shaking with fear that I won’t be able to do this, that I’ll fail. I’m ashamed. I’m embarrassed. I’m hurting inside. Badly. I’m so very sorry for the things I have done to people I love, afraid that they won’t accept me even if I quit drinking, afraid to become who I really am instead of who I am with alcohol.
I have never been so scared in my life.

I’m afraid to face the truth and push denial out of the way, because to do that means I was wrong all these years, wrong for thinking I was okay, and wrong for thinking I could control myself. To admit that I was wrong means all those years, all those incidents shouldn’t have happened, and that means I have regrets. And I want no regrets. I feel guilty. I feel like a scumbag. I’m open about everything in my life, including my depression (which drinking exacerbates) but this, for some reason, ties my stomach in knots. I’m so afraid of what people will think. Maybe because bipolar disorder, though not fully understood by the general population, at least, I think, seems more like a disease to people; they view it as something beyond a person’s control. Alcoholism, I feel, is looked at by many as a weakness, a sign of making bad choices, not necessarily a disease, even though it’s been proven to have genetic predisposition involved, as is the case with me and my family.

Of course, depression runs in my family too, and I have obviously been self-medicating for a long time now. It’s the first thing I reach for, my go-to, my trusty friend. With a glass of wine I can feel good again. It’s a great feeling. It’s the nights that the glass turns into two glasses, then a bottle, then two bottles…the nights I’ve blacked out, remembering little, if nothing, about a majority of the evening, wondering what I said, what I did…who I did it with…the horrible dread of trying to recall the next day, what took place the night before, the hangovers lasting days – those are the reasons I want to quit drinking. At this point there are no benefits.

But mostly it’s my marriage I want to save. I have an incredible man and he does not deserve this. There are a couple of other reasons too, and it’s a knife through the heart to hear them ask why Mommy won’t get out of bed. No, it’s not every day. It’s not even too often at all in the minds of many, I’m sure. I know there are so many people who are in much more advanced stages of alcoholism than I am. But this is not their life. This is my life. And I know I have to do this if I want to keep it. I want to be a better wife. I want to be a better mom. I need to be a role model.

I know in my gut, with every fiber of my being and pound on my body, that this is the only solution left. I’ve tried limiting drinking to weekends, drinking only at home, drinking only a certain kind of alcohol, drinking only for a certain number of hours – I’ve tried everything. I’ve taken “breaks” from drinking before when I’ve been spiraling out of control; I’ve “slowed it down.” But once I started again, I ended up right where I had been. I know I can’t just “take a break” this time. I know my addictive, all-or-nothing personality, and telling myself I can stop for a while and then set limits once I start again does not work. I’ve tried that. It’s a slippery slope. I’ve exhausted the options, made the excuses, and fiercely embraced the denial with a warm, tight hug every single time. This is it. This. Is. It.

I am very scared. What do I do? Can I still have fun? Will I fit in? Will I always feel awkward now? Do I attend AA meetings? I’ve always thought of alcoholics as people who get up in the morning and have to drink. People on street corners with tattered clothing and bottles hidden in brown paper bags. People who in general seem much more “out of control” than I am. I’ve never thought of myself as “one of them.” As it turns out, there is no exact alcoholic profile. I am one of them.

I’m not sure where to go from here, how to go from here. My path has not been marked out yet. I know that I do need to go from here, though, and take the path I have never taken. In order to save my marriage, my family, my life, I can’t stay on this path. My therapist said just as much a few weeks ago, when I had, once again, vowed to be better. Yet somehow, some way, no matter what precautions I try to take, no matter how much I worry and think, and try, really, really try…I somehow always take a detour, and I’m back on the old path again. That path has now been blocked off, eradicated, and filled in with the grasses and weeds of yesterday. I know I have a problem.

So today, I am going down a new path. The path of sobriety. It’s surreal. Alcohol has been such a focal point in almost everything I do. It’s very hard to imagine my life without it. It might not look like to others that I even have a problem, but I know I do. I’m scared that people won’t be supportive, and I’m scared to be this honest and vulnerable. I don’t know exactly where I’m going yet, but I know where I’ve been, and if none of it had happened then I wouldn’t be where I am. And that is at a point of great change. Everything in my life has lead me to this point. Everything.

My name is Sara, and I’m an alcoholic.

Hi. It’s me Stefanie. Here is a post from a member of the Booze Free Brigade. If you would like to be a member of the Brigade, an online support group, please click here. And now, meet Jo.

“We were alcoholics. It had to get worse before it could get better.”

This post also could have been titled: “Today Would Have Been My 10 Year Wedding Anniversary: My Marriage and Other
Things Alcoholism Destroyed”

Or: “We Loved, We Fought, We Lied, and it Killed Us.”

Or: “How Alcoholism Helps You Build a Cocoon and then Destroy it from the
Inside”

Or, my current favorite: “It’s Not My Fault, but I Am Responsible for It.”
I think you get the drift.

Yep. Ten years ago today I was atop a beautiful Northern California cliff, on a crystal clear day, with soaring views of the Pacific, vowing to love, hold, honor, respect… and pull through when the going got tough. Hand in hand with my lover and friend, both injured in various ways, but with youthful bravado coloring our thinking, we thought could conquer the world with our love.
But we were alcoholics. And things had to get worse before they could get better.

Even before August 25, 2001 there had been signs: his depression and suicidal fantasy. Always needing space and time to be alone, which he spent checked out on pot, wine, porn and movies. My controlling tactics and manipulation, obsession about him cheating or leaving or dying unexpectedly. The livid anger and helplessness I felt when he was a few minutes late getting home or calling. My reckless party girl behavior on the weekends, which was usually a reprieve from my stressed out, control freak behavior during the week. Our terrible fighting, that would be followed by equally passionate “making up” only to have the whole cycle repeat itself. Over and over.

By the time we were married the patterns were already set, but they would have to play themselves out to the bitter end. After all, we were alcoholics. And things had to get worse before they could get better.

Maybe you know this story? It goes something like this:

1. It feels good to get a little drunk and loose.
2. It feels good to get a little drunk and loose again.
3. The periods between getting a little drunk and a little loose get shorter.
4. You start to get a little drunker and a little looser once in awhile, more so than your other “grown-up” friends, and vow every time that you’re going to keep it under control going forward.
5. You begin to break your promises, to yourself and to others.
6. Bad things happen.
7. Even though it doesn’t even feel that good to get drunk and loose anymore, you do it anyway.
8. You start to act drunk and loose even when you haven’t been drinking.
9. Everything kind of blurs together, and one bad decision or outcome leads to another.
10. Things really suck.

And that brings me back to the marriage. It started to really suck. It’s hard to pinpoint what exactly happened to make it fall apart. Maybe it was slowly spiraling down from the beginning (speeding up a little toward the end). Or maybe that handful of really terrible episodes just soured any hope of resurrecting it. Whatever the case, we were alcoholics. And things had to get worse before they could get better.

It is said that an alcoholic is uniquely unqualified to make healthy decisions, that he/she frequently lives in a state of denial, and that the disease is progressive. (In other words, it gets worse.) Ten years ago today, when I was gazing into the eyes of my beloved, I couldn’t imagine a day that I’d be trembling on a street corner explaining my marriage and its abuses to a female cop who didn’t give a shit. I remember even in that moment wanting to prove to her that we were somehow different or special, and this wasn’t your garden-variety Jerry Springer domestic violence.

It was, however, your garden variety alcoholism. This time he was the one who’d hit me. But had been many episodes before that (going both ways)—all of which we would later deny or excuse, or get down on our knees and hold one another, and promise never to do again. That night my husband was handcuffed and put into the back of a police car, and was carted off to jail in front of our children and neighbors. He was the Vice President of the PTA, a stay-at-home dad, a brilliant writer and musician, and generally regarded as a nice, sensitive guy. We were a well-known and well-liked family. And, as you might guess, we threw the best parties! And in one moment – a moment that was years in the making — our lives and reputations came crashing
down on us. And the sobering truth was there for everyone to see.

Here’s the deal: we were alcoholics. And things had to get worse before they could get better.

I could titillate you with the details of what exactly we were fighting about all those years. It would make for a good movie or book or soap opera. Yes, there were mundane issues, like conflict about division of labor in the household or with the kids. There were also heart-wrenching things, like money troubles, dying parents, and affairs. You might even get carried away in our drama; you might even, based on what you heard and who you heard it from, choose to take his side or mine. But that wouldn’t matter, because the real truth is that we were alcoholics, and we were doing what alcoholics do, which is destroy things that we care about, most specifically ourselves.

Alcohol is an ice-breaker, a means to maintain friendships, an event for every weekend, a symbol of personal freedom and ability to make choices (there are so many varieties!), and a little something to rely upon when things just don’t feel right. It’s there for the celebrations, for the milestones, and for when the shit hits the fan. It was there on my beautiful wedding night ten years ago today, and it was there for me that wretched night I was alone with my children while my husband went to jail for both of us.

Our alcoholism isn’t our fault. But we are responsible for it. It builds a prison for us to live in, and it’s next to impossible to get ourselves out.

It is completely outside of my comfort zone to seek help, but I have to remind myself of something that my ex-husband (who made it to recovery before I did) said to me: “If a person can lead themselves to a place like this, they would be a fool to try and lead themselves out.”

God bless that man. May he achieve the happiness and freedom he deserves.

And me too. May I, with the help of [god, goddess, higher power, higher truth] achieve the happiness and freedom I deserve. And may this anniversary of our marriage be a reminder to me to love and forgive myself and him, to raise our children as best we can, to listen to other people, and to seek help when I need it.

For all alcoholics whose marriages were casualties of this disease… with gratitude and sobriety,

Jo