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The Inner Struggle I Confront Daily
Throughout my life, I’ve always had a rebellious spirit, yet I presented an image of having everything under control. I had a partner, a child, and a secure home. Sundays were for roasting a meal, and each night, I prepared lunch for my son, Ethan, with his sandwich meticulously cut in half. Yet, beneath this facade, a ferocious beast lay in wait, anticipating my most vulnerable moments to strike. When I reached out to him, trusting in the comfort he seemed to offer, he pushed me over the edge.
When I hear someone say, “I conquered my addiction,” I can’t help but chuckle. Addiction isn’t a challenge you can win; it’s not a temporary phase you look back on and scoff at. It’s a relentless presence, lurking just behind you, ready to take you down. Sobriety is a fleeting gift, not an accolade. It’s akin to a loved one who has vanished suddenly, leaving a profound emptiness. It’s like the ex who calls when you’re feeling most alone but never appears when you need support. Addiction is a coward, and yet, it’s captivating. It’s the partner you defend despite their toxicity. It’s selfish, devoid of love, and remains unbeatable. You can maneuver around it, hoping today isn’t the day it strikes, but you never truly defeat it.
I can’t recall my first drink, but I remember my last. It was Bud Light Platinum on December 31, 2013. That night, I consumed far more than just that, but it marked the end of my relationship with alcohol. I wish my last drink had been something more glamorous—perhaps a sophisticated gin martini or a vibrant sunset margarita. Have you ever enjoyed a tequila sunrise on a Waikiki beach? Trust me, if you ever quit drinking, that should be your final toast.
Addiction is a repetitive cycle. Wine became my nightly companion. We’d share the kitchen as I prepared dinner, laughing at celebrity gossip while tidying up. After my son went to bed, I’d linger on the couch, reminiscing over old videos or browsing online. Do I miss that companionship? Every single moment.
My days are now about survival, each hour a challenge. I focus on living one minute at a time. Just breathe. Stay calm. Just be.
True happiness is elusive for those of us with addiction. The warmth I experienced with substances, particularly opiates, was my version of joy. They made me feel like a better employee, parent, and partner. I won’t sugarcoat it: when I wasn’t drinking, I was often high. I believed there was nothing wrong with this lifestyle; it felt normal. If I didn’t have a substance handy, finding one became my priority.
Addicts don’t tend to embrace pride. My mind would race, keys in hand, searching for the next fix, but the dark days were marked by scarcity. One night, during a painful withdrawal, I had a fleeting, delusional sleep, haunted by thoughts of escaping my pain.
In my mind’s eye, I see my son, Noah, now 27, dressed in a black tuxedo adorned with a yellow rose. My partner, Jake, walks into the room, swelling with pride as he gazes at our son. “Your mother would have been so proud of you today,” he says. Noah’s eyes are misty, reflecting the same vibrant blue that captivated me the moment he was born. “Yeah… I’m sure she would have,” he replies.
I can’t afford the luxury of giving up. I will share that dance with my son at his wedding.
Attending rehab was a life-changing experience. Initially, I walked in with my head held high, thinking I didn’t belong among the others—people from all walks of life, including those who had turned to desperate measures and those like me, who had lost their way. I quickly learned how faceless addiction is; we all carry that inner beast, urging us to seek help.
I spent three weeks surrounded by 25 strangers, learning and sharing our stories night after night, rediscovering the will to live. My fellow residents became my lifeline. Some had been through rehab before and understood the process, while others were still grappling with their choices. It was like a college dorm for misfits, and some of us were fortunate to emerge with newfound insights.
I won’t claim that the past year has been free of obstacles. Sobriety is a continuous journey, and it doesn’t necessarily get easier. Yet, I wake up each day and strive to live a sober life. I seek out natural joys, understanding that the key to sobriety is to embrace the highs that don’t involve substances.
Children exude natural happiness; everything is fresh and enchanting for them. They are untainted and full of wonder. Every day, I strive to channel the spirit of 9-year-old Lila, who dreamed of becoming a writer, adored chocolate milk, and found joy in being pushed high on the swings. I return to those origins. I make it through another day and wake up to do it all over again.
The Beast no longer holds power over me. My shield is Love, and my sword is Hope. Even if I stumble along the way, I will continue to fight back.
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Summary
This piece reflects on the ongoing battle with addiction, portraying it as a beast that can never truly be defeated but rather managed. The author shares personal anecdotes about sobriety, the support found during rehab, and the desire to reconnect with the joyful spirit of childhood. The narrative emphasizes the importance of love and hope in the journey toward recovery.