My Journey Through Alcoholism: How I Faced the Depths of Addiction

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I am not the epitome of failure, but I was certainly on that path. Addiction does not begin with chaos; it creeps in slowly, often disguised as harmless enjoyment, before spiraling into dangerous territory. For two and a half years, I consumed alcohol daily. I drank through illnesses, coordinated my intake around parenting, and often found myself drinking alone in the quiet of my home. I convinced myself that I was in control because I reserved my drinking for nighttime. The truth was, I was just avoiding facing my reality.

When I reached the depths of my addiction, I felt it acutely. That fateful morning, I awoke abruptly, my eyes wide open, startled and disoriented. I shot out of bed, my head spinning and my stomach churning. The clock displayed 7:45 AM, a full 15 minutes later than I intended to sleep. My husband was jolted awake by my sudden movements. “Camp, camp, camp,” I silently repeated, hoping that focusing on getting my child ready for camp would somehow make the morning unfold smoothly. I stumbled towards the bathroom, praying that I could mask the remnants of the previous night’s indulgence before my kids noticed that something was off.

The shower did little to revive me; I had to brace myself against the wall just to wash my hair. That frantic morning was merely a prelude to the pain that followed throughout the day. Juggling nausea and dizziness while caring for two preschoolers was a challenge I was ill-equipped to handle. In a moment of sheer madness, I allowed them to persuade me to visit Walmart for a toy. My perception was so distorted that I questioned whether I was still intoxicated while driving. I was a danger behind the wheel.

Later that same day, I had a scheduled surgery to remove some tissue from my back—a precaution against potential cancer. I contemplated canceling the appointment but ultimately decided to go through with it, knowing that avoiding the procedure would only prolong my anxiety and lead to more drinking. I had arranged for childcare and a friend to accompany me, but the embarrassment of walking into surgery with a hangover lingered in my mind.

In retrospect, my husband later remarked that my alcohol consumption didn’t warrant such a severe hangover. We had shared three bottles of wine among four adults, and I had been lively and engaging throughout the evening. Joyful relief washed over me at the thought that I hadn’t embarrassed myself entirely. Waking up each morning filled with dread over my past actions was exhausting.

My nightly routine had become a cycle of drinking until I fell asleep, often with a glass of wine in hand. I was oblivious to the shame I was burying under layers of alcohol. I frequently found myself ordering items online that I had no recollection of purchasing because my drinking had spiraled out of control.

Determining how much I truly drank became an exercise in denial. I would prepare responses for medical check-ups, claiming I only had a glass of wine with dinner, estimating 7 to 10 drinks a week. The reality was far more severe, as I was probably consuming over a bottle of wine daily. As my standards plummeted, I resorted to cheaper options, convincing myself I would quit once I finished the current box.

Addiction thrives on denial, and I was adept at justifying my behaviors. I grew up in an alcoholic household, yet I made daily choices to prioritize health. I exercised, maintained a healthy lifestyle, and appeared to have it all together. However, alcohol became my coping mechanism amidst the chaos of motherhood. My children provided countless reasons to drink, and I often turned to wine to manage the stress of parenting.

Despite my struggles, I kept my problems hidden from my husband, who believed I was merely on a health kick. He was unaware of the extent of my addiction and how close I was to collapsing under the weight of it all. I refused to confront the emotional pain associated with my life choices, including the grief from losing my brother to cancer.

After my surgery, I returned home to a house stocked with alcohol, but this time, I made the conscious decision not to drink. I could no longer tolerate the cycle of shame and despair that addiction brought into my life. I realized that there is nothing temporary about being an alcoholic, and my journey to sobriety would impact everyone around me.

Now, ten days sober, I am committed to this path.

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In summary, my journey through addiction taught me the importance of facing my demons rather than masking them. Sobriety is not just a personal victory; it’s a commitment to myself and my family.