Parenting
The Inner Struggle I Face Every Day
by Lila Peterson
Updated: August 20, 2015
Originally Published: November 11, 2014
Throughout my life, I’ve worn a mask of calm and control. I had the perfect picture: a husband, a child, a yard enclosed by a fence. Sundays were for roasts in the oven and meticulously packed lunches for my son, Alex, with his sandwich neatly sliced in half. Yet, beneath this façade, a beast lay in wait. It chose my most fragile moment to emerge, transforming me. He was there, lurking, and when I reached out to him out of trust, he took that opportunity to push me over the edge.
When I hear people say they’ve “overcome their addiction,” I can’t help but chuckle. You never truly “overcome” an addiction. It’s not a game you can win, nor is it a phase that fades into the past, leaving you to shake your head at your former self. Addiction is a constant presence, like a linebacker always on your tail, ready to bring you down. Achieving sobriety feels like a borrowed blessing, not a trophy to display. It’s that empty space left by a once-constant companion, like a dear friend who suddenly disappears. It’s that ex-lover who reaches out only when you feel most alone, yet is absent when you need support. Addiction is a selfish, heartless foe that you cannot defeat.
You can try to navigate around it, hoping today isn’t the day it strikes, but you never truly conquer it.
I can’t recall my first drink, but I remember my last. It was a Bud Light Platinum on December 31, 2013. That night, I indulged much more than just that, but it marked the end of my alcohol consumption. I often wish my final drink had been something more memorable—perhaps a sophisticated gin martini or a tropical coconut drink. Have you ever enjoyed a tequila sunrise on a beach in Waikiki? If you ever decide to stop drinking, that should be your farewell beverage.
Addiction is a pattern, a relentless cycle. Wine became my evening companion, arriving shortly after I finished work. We’d prepare dinner together, chuckling at the latest celebrity gossip on the TV while cleaning up. We’d play with my son and share affectionate moments. Sometimes, this companion would linger into the night, and we’d reminisce over old home videos or browse the internet together. Do I miss those evenings together? Every single moment.
My daily existence is a struggle to make it through each hour. I literally live minute by minute. Breathe. Stay calm. Just be.
Finding true happiness is a challenge for those of us who battle addiction. The warmth provided by opiates felt like my joy. They made me a better boss, a more attentive mother, and a supportive wife. I won’t pretend otherwise; when I wasn’t drinking, I was likely high. And to say I recognized the problem is a significant understatement. To me, it was a way of life. If I didn’t have any substances on hand, finding something became my second job.
Addicts don’t wear their pride openly. My mind racing with thoughts, keys in hand, I’d wonder where to go next. But those resources weren’t always within reach, and those were the darkest days.
One night, engulfed in withdrawal, I managed a brief and delusional sleep, plagued by a chilling nightmare involving my plans to end my own suffering. My son, Leo, now 27, stood in a black tuxedo with a yellow rose pinned to his lapel. As my husband entered the room, pride swelling in his chest, he remarked, “Your mom would have been so proud of you today.” Leo’s eyes glistened, the same beautiful blue I remembered when he first entered my life. “Yeah…I’m sure she would have.”
I don’t have the luxury of giving up, because I plan to dance with my son at his wedding.
Going to rehab was one of the best experiences of my life. Initially, I walked in with my head held high, convinced I didn’t belong among these people. Yet, I quickly realized addiction wears many faces. We were all battling our inner demons, each of us driven to seek help.
In a room filled with 25 strangers, I spent night after sober night listening, learning, and reigniting my will to live. The people I shared those three weeks with became my lifeline. Each had a different story—some were seasoned rehab veterans, while others were just beginning their journey. It was like a college dorm for misfits, and thankfully, some of us emerged with newfound knowledge.
I won’t pretend the past year has been easy or without bumps. But I wake up each day, determined to embrace another sober day. I strive to find joy in the small things. The secret to sobriety is to seek the highs that don’t involve substances.
Children are often the happiest beings, simply because they see the world with fresh eyes. They are untainted by cynicism. Each day, I work to channel the 9-year-old Lila who dreamed of being a writer, who savored chocolate milk, and found joy in being pushed high on the swings. I return to that beginning. I live another day, and then I wake up once more.
The Beast no longer stands a chance against me. My shield is Love, and my sword is Hope. Even if I stumble in the final battle, I will keep fighting.
For more on navigating the journey of home insemination, check out this resource. If you’re looking to explore options, this authority on artificial insemination can provide valuable information, and this excellent resource offers insights into pregnancy and home insemination.
Summary
In this heartfelt reflection, Lila Peterson shares her ongoing battle with addiction, portraying it as a relentless beast that cannot truly be defeated, only managed. She recounts her journey from a facade of control to a realization of her struggles and the importance of seeking help. Through her experience in rehab, she discovers a supportive community and learns to find joy in sobriety, embracing the happiness often found in the simplicity of life and childhood dreams.