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I remember being just six years old, caught in the midst of my parents’ explosive argument. This particular fight was about a missed field trip, a result of their late-night drinking. As I peeked into the kitchen, I watched my dad yell and shove my mom against the glass door, marking the first of many troubling memories.
Fast forward to age 12, and the pattern of chaos had only intensified. My sister and I lay in our bunk beds, attempting to drift off as our parents drank yet again. Each fight made me feel responsible. “I should be doing more to protect my sister,” I thought. In a desperate bid for peace, we snuck into the kitchen to pour their alcohol down the drain. I promised myself that if they stopped drinking, I would never touch alcohol.
At 14, I tried to celebrate my birthday by baking my own cake, a rare moment of joy. But that night, my parents opted for a fifth of Crown Royal to mark the occasion, leaving me alone in the kitchen, singing “Happy Birthday” to myself while they partied in the living room.
By 16, when I was offered my first drink, I reflected on the nights spent crying about my parents’ habits. I envisioned my sister’s disappointed gaze and declined the offer without hesitation, vowing not to drink until I was 19.
At 20, my parents’ tumultuous divorce unfolded, filled with threats and violence. My dad spiraled into heavy drinking while I was pregnant with my first child, a high-risk pregnancy. Instead of focusing on my own well-being, I became entangled in their destructive cycle.
When I turned 21 and became a new mother, I fell into the “mommy wine” trap, initially enjoying a glass or two a week. However, what started as casual drinking escalated, and I convinced myself I was in control. I was vigilant about my habits, thinking I could spot the warning signs.
At 26, life took a turn when flashing cop lights illuminated my night. I was arrested for driving under the influence, yet I shrugged it off as a story to tell. I had two DUIs and a stint in a mental hospital, but I was still in denial about my drinking problem.
Things changed when I turned 28 and was court-ordered to attend Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. Initially, I went just to get my paperwork signed, skeptical of the older members who claimed decades of sobriety. But as I sank deeper into alcohol, consuming a half a fifth of rum daily, I realized I was mirroring my parents’ lives, complete with the same fights with my husband.
After nine months of meetings, something shifted. I yearned for the happiness and stability I saw in others. I woke up each day in panic, unsure of my actions from the night before, battling debilitating hangovers. On November 14, 2020, I finally declared “enough.” I wanted to break free from alcohol, much like escaping a toxic relationship.
I immersed myself in recovery literature and created a separate Instagram account dedicated to sobriety, connecting with others on the same path. I began attending meetings four times a week, exploring new hobbies, and nurturing my own well-being. On tough days, I found solace in running or simply resting.
Now, almost six months sober, I wake before dawn to care for my children. Life is calm, and for the first time, I feel truly at peace.
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Summary:
This article details the personal journey of a woman who grew up in an environment plagued by alcoholism. She reflects on her childhood experiences, her struggle with alcohol, and her ultimate decision to pursue sobriety. Through determination and a commitment to recovery, she breaks the cycle of addiction that marked her upbringing.
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Keyphrase: Journey of Recovery from Alcoholism
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