Giving up is simply not an option for me anymore. A single misstep or a moment of succumbing to self-pity has the potential to strip away the love and meaning in my life. To an outsider, my circumstances might appear dismal: I reside in a cramped condo with my three children, living paycheck to paycheck. There are times I wonder how I’ll afford gas for my car or food for my family. My credit score? A staggering 450. I’m divorced and rely on my elderly mother for financial help, along with assistance with household chores. At 39, I’m just beginning my first career, navigating life one day at a time, yet I’m filled with gratitude.
Few people want to experience the depths of emotional and physical agony that I faced. My story is filled with heartache, and every stereotype about alcoholic mothers rings true. I was a low-bottom drunk, and my final years of drinking revolved around consuming vodka straight from the bottle just to quell the shakes and nausea. My last drink was consumed during a blackout, driving recklessly at 10 a.m. after vanishing from work without notice. My visits with my children were court-ordered and supervised. They loved me despite everything, and it perplexed me how they could. They still held onto hope, seeing the person I am today buried beneath the façade. They waited for me.
I was a walking contradiction, made up of broken promises and hollow apologies. I missed birthdays and frequently passed out in front of my kids. Time and again, alcohol convinced me that I could have just a few drinks without losing control. This disease is a master of deception; it consumes the mind, body, and spirit, entangling families and innocent children. I engaged in a twisted dance with this disease, believing its lies and forgiving its betrayals.
I felt unemployable, unreliable, and (I thought) unlovable. Alcohol was my everything—my best friend, my lover, my source of courage and fear, my entertainment, and even my bedtime story. I placed alcohol above my children, relationships, health, and sanity. Deep down, I wished to stop drinking, yet I craved the numbing effects of alcohol with every fiber of my being.
As my drinking escalated, I sensed the end was near. I didn’t fully grasp it then, but I felt a creeping fear of myself. Entering a liquor store, I would leave with the unsettling thought that something terrible awaited me that night. Each morning was a ritual of assessing the damage done. This marked the beginning of the end for my disease. I no longer felt untouchable; the lies of alcoholism lost their grip on me.
One fateful night, I bought a gallon of vodka, fully aware I would consume it all. The realization terrified me—I was preparing for my final surrender. That moment came on February 3, 2014. I didn’t want to die; I recognized that I would lose my oldest daughter forever if I continued down this path. I could see it in her eyes and the way she began to withdraw from me. She wouldn’t be fooled much longer. That Monday morning, for the first time in my adult life, I fleetingly believed there could be a better way to live.
I entered detox, followed by a six-month inpatient rehab located an hour and a half away from my children. Intensive therapy and AA meetings became my new reality. Slowly, I learned to appreciate parts of myself and how to engage with life sober. I danced sober, laughed sober, cried sober, and felt emotions I had long numbed. I embraced a fresh perspective on life and committed to remaining sober, just for today.
The pain I caused to those I love is something I cannot erase, but I can choose not to hurt them today. My children waited for me, and I’m determined to ensure their patience was worth it. Today, my bank account or credit score doesn’t define my worth; what matters is that I am sober, and that is my success story. I live in a state of acceptance, self-awareness, and gratitude—even for my darkest days, as they shaped who I am.
A small spark of hope on a drunken Monday morning transformed my life forever. Thanks to the support of Alcoholics Anonymous, the journey of self-love, and my family’s unwavering encouragement, I have achieved 1,347 days of sobriety, one moment at a time. I have never felt happier.
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Summary:
This personal account details the journey of a recovering alcoholic who hit rock bottom and found hope through sobriety. Through intensive therapy and support from family and Alcoholics Anonymous, the author learned to embrace a new life while recognizing the pain caused by past actions. With a focus on gratitude and self-awareness, the narrative highlights the importance of recovery and the transformative power of hope.
Keyphrase: “recovering alcoholic journey”
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