Hello, I’m a mom, and I struggle with alcoholism. At first glance, I may not fit the stereotype. I’m a 36-year-old, well-educated, middle-class individual who attends church regularly. I don’t resemble the typical image of a disheveled drunk often depicted in movies. However, I’ve come to understand that I have inherited a predisposition to alcoholism.
My family has a history of alcohol use; my father was an alcoholic who stopped drinking when I was a child. I’ve never felt ashamed of his struggles, viewing them instead as a genetic condition that made it difficult for him to control his drinking. Unfortunately, I’ve come to realize that I share the same flawed wiring in my brain.
My relationship with alcohol has always been tumultuous. It resembled a toxic relationship I struggled to leave. I would frequently find myself in a cycle where I’d drink excessively, swear off alcohol for a time, and then return only to repeat the same patterns. Each time I ended up feeling sick, I would establish new rules for myself, thinking they would solve the problem:
- From now on, I’ll only drink on weekends.
- I’ll steer clear of hard liquor.
- I’ll stick to beer.
But these self-imposed limitations never worked. The underlying issue was not about when or what I was drinking; it was about my brain. With a dysfunctional “off” switch, I found it impossible to moderate my consumption. Unlike others who can enjoy a drink and stop, my brain would scream, “More, please!” leading me to drink excessively and behave impulsively.
It took time for me to acknowledge that I had this “alcohol allergy.” There were moments of success where I could drink moderately, which misled me into thinking I had control. However, I never knew which version of myself would show up at the bar—would it be “Moderate Mary” or “Total Trainwreck Mary”?
While I was never alcohol dependent in a conventional sense—I managed to keep my job and relationships intact—I learned through the Big Book of AA that we cannot dismiss the severity of the issue by comparing ourselves to others. Alcoholism is a progressive condition, and what begins as heavy drinking can escalate into dependence.
For instance, I might think, “I don’t have a drinking problem because I’ve never received a DUI—yet.” Or “I’ve never cheated on my partner—yet.” It’s a slippery slope, and though I never hit rock bottom, I could see it looming ahead. By sheer luck and with divine intervention, I chose to end my relationship with alcohol before reaching that point.
I won’t sugarcoat the challenges of sobriety. Alcohol is omnipresent in our culture—at sports events, brunches, and even children’s parties. When I decline a drink, people often assume I’m either expecting or trying to be morally superior, which can be awkward.
Without the option of liquid courage, I’ve turned to prayer, meditation, and yes, indulging in carbs. For me, stress eating has become the new escape.
If you find yourself grappling with similar issues, remember this: You are not alone. You are not a failure. You are not defined by your struggles. Perhaps today is the day you confront your own “off” switch and recognize the need for change. If you ever want to chat, you can join me at a party where we’ll enjoy snacks and reassure others that no, we are not expecting.
For additional resources on the journey of home insemination and related topics, check out this insightful blog post on intracervicalinsemination.com. For more information on improving fertility, visit Make a Mom. For comprehensive guidance on pregnancy and home insemination, Rmany offers excellent resources.
In summary, navigating motherhood while managing alcoholism is a complex journey filled with challenges, but it is one that can lead to profound self-discovery and growth.