Brief History of My Battle with Alcoholism

This is my story of my battle with alcoholism. Although I am blogging under a pen name to protect the innocent involved in my alcoholic nightmare, all accounts are true and accurate to my life.

My first drink was at about 14 years old then, only an occasional drink or two until about 21 years old. Each time I did drink, I liked the buzz that came with it, I felt freer to be me, not the shy and reserved person I was when sober. With alcohol, I could lighten up and be happy go lucky.

Later I married a man who, I did not realize, was an alcoholic. We had a child together; I also had a child from a previous marriage. I allowed myself and my children to stay in that verbally, emotionally and, sometimes, physically abusive marriage for ten years. During that time, I drank occasionally on the weekends but those occasional weekends of drinking eventually became more frequent. By the eighth year of that marriage, I developed an “if ya can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” attitude, resulting in drinking 2, 3 or 4 times a week.

After the marriage ended, I met a man that made me very happy. He respected me and treated me like a lady, my soul mate. I slowly became happier with myself and life, drinking became less desirable and enjoyable. There were times that I could even have an occasional beer or two without getting drunk or needing more.

About five years into the relationship, we moved in together and he proposed to me, I was ecstatic! However, I was later diagnosed with fibromyalgia and a herniated disc and compressed nerve in my neck. Over time, I wound up on all kinds of medication for pain, sleeping, muscle relaxers, etc. I had spinal surgery to remove the disc and severe nerve compression. Needless to say, after surgery, I was dropped from most of my medication.

Over the next two years my children moved in and out of our home, my boyfriend was working a lot and I spent most of my time at home alone. To fill these voids, I would occasionally drink a little too much on the weekends rather than the social drinks he and I previously shared. I also began buying beer while at the grocery and sneaking it into the house, drinking in private and trying to hide the fact that I was drinking and drunk, which lead to many arguments and fights. To try to cover up my secretive drinking, I would drink coffee and make excuses that my actions were the result of my medication and too much coffee, and countless other lies.

I sought advice and guidance from my pastor and church family which would help for a while but never long enough. My boyfriend and I tried to work things out but it took its toll on him. He moved out for two years. We continued to see each other off and on trying to work out our relationship. I began outpatient counseling and attending twelve step group meetings. Although those steps were helping, that didn’t last long either, about four months at best. Even then, I was still drinking at times.

Eventually, I lost two part-time jobs and my home went into foreclosure. By this time, I was barely eating a meal a day and drinking 4-5 days a week, sometimes 6! And when I say drinking, I mean a 6 pack of 16 ouncers or more, usually more! Mind you that I only weighed between 85-90 pounds!

Beer was my mainstay but I could always find a way to muddle past the taste of wine, vodka or whiskey to get the escape for which I was searching and needing. I HAD to have alcohol! Drinking, brownouts, blackouts, passing out, waking up with regrets and remorse, vowing to never do it again, became my normalcy, a viscous cycle. I needed alcohol to survive anything, everything! Ironically, what I had to have to survive was destroying me, my life and my loved ones!