The Inner Struggle: A Daily Battle with Addiction

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Throughout my life, I maintained an image of stability: a loving partner, a child, and a home adorned with a neatly fenced yard. Sundays were filled with roasted meals, and I meticulously prepared bagged lunches for my son, Jack, each evening. However, lurking beneath this façade was a formidable beast, a part of me that lay dormant until it chose the moment of my greatest vulnerability to emerge. In that instant, I found myself teetering on the edge, and when I extended my hand to this beast, it shoved me into darkness.

The phrase “I conquered my addiction” often elicits a chuckle from me. Addiction is not a battle you can win; it’s not a fleeting phase you can dismiss with a laugh in hindsight. It is ever-present, like a linebacker shadowing your every move, waiting for the opportunity to bring you down. Sobriety is a fleeting gift, not a trophy to display. It feels like the emptiness left behind when a cherished friend disappears, or the ex-lover who reappears during your loneliest moments but is absent when you truly need support. Addiction is a relentless adversary, and the notion of beating it is a delusion.

I cannot recall the first time I drank, but I will never forget my last sip of alcohol: a Bud Light Platinum on December 31, 2013. That night, I consumed much more than just that, but it marked the end of my drinking. I often fantasize about a more glamorous farewell—perhaps a gin martini or a tropical drink on a beach. I have savored the beauty of a tequila sunrise in Waikiki, and if I could choose a last drink, it would certainly be that.

For me, addiction formed a habitual routine—wine became my evening companion. Our ritual began shortly after work; we would prepare dinner, laugh at celebrity news, and share affection with Jack before he drifted off to sleep. Many nights, my companion lingered long after Jack was tucked in, as we scrolled through the internet or reminisced over home videos. I miss that companionship every moment of each day.

Living each day meant merely existing until the next minute arrived—surviving the hours, breathing, and striving to maintain some semblance of calm. Genuine happiness eludes many addicts; the warmth I once felt from opiates deceived me into believing I was a better mother, wife, and boss. When I wasn’t drinking, I was often seeking the next high. I can’t overstate how normal this seemed to me. It became a second job to ensure I always had something to numb my pain.

Pride is not a luxury afforded to those grappling with addiction. I remember frantic nights, keys in hand, searching for my next fix. But during the darkest days, when my resources were scarce, I faced the terrifying reality of withdrawal. One night, caught in a haze of despair, I envisioned a future where I wouldn’t be there for my son’s milestones.

Jack, now 27, stood in a black tuxedo adorned with a yellow rose on his wedding day. As Eric entered the room and beamed with pride, I could almost hear his words: “Your mom would have been incredibly proud of you today.” Jack’s eyes reflected a deep sadness, but I am determined to be present for him on that special day, because I refuse to entertain the thought of leaving him.

Entering rehab was transformative. Initially, I felt out of place among a diverse group of individuals—ranging from those who had faced the streets to others like me, who were simply seeking help. Through these experiences, I learned that addiction is faceless; we all share a common struggle. Each of us harbored the same beast, pushing us to the brink of seeking support.

In those three weeks, I formed connections with 25 strangers, sharing our stories, learning from one another, and rekindling our will to live. Some participants had attended rehab before; others were just beginning their journey. It was like a college dorm for the lost, and many of us emerged with newfound insights.

I won’t claim that the past year has been devoid of challenges. Recovery is not an easy path, and some days are harder than others. Yet, I wake up each day and strive to embrace sobriety, actively seeking out natural highs in life. The key to lasting recovery lies in finding joy in experiences that don’t require substances.

Children embody a pure form of happiness; they find beauty in the simplest of things. Every day, I strive to channel the spirit of my younger self, who dreamed of being a writer and reveled in the joy of chocolate milk and swings. I return to that innocent place, one day at a time, waking up renewed each morning.

Today, the beast no longer holds power over me. I wield love as my shield and hope as my sword. Even if I stumble during the final battle, I will continue to fight back.

For more insights on this journey, you can explore other posts on our blog, including one about home insemination kit, where we delve into related topics. For those seeking expert information on home insemination, Make a Mom provides valuable resources. Additionally, the Genetics and IVF Institute offers comprehensive information on reproductive health.

Summary:

This narrative explores the complex relationship with addiction, illustrating the ongoing battle many face. It emphasizes the importance of recovery, the strength found in community, and the pursuit of happiness through sober living. Ultimately, it conveys a message of resilience, hope, and the commitment to be present for loved ones.