- Alcohol
- Faith
My name is Scotti. I am 54 years old, or 130 weeks, 14,840 days, 30 months and 2 1/2 years old! I think I am old enough to write, so here I go! My story is not one of sadness or regret but of miracles that have happened because I am an alcoholic. I came into this world and almost died at birth, but that wasn’t God’s plan. From the time I was learning to walk and talk, my whole life began to change. My father, grandfather and brother began to abuse me sexually. As the years went by, I started feeling so alone, and every day I wished I wasn’t born. By the time I turned eight, I knew this was not what I wanted for my life.
Alcohol became my best and only friend until I almost died on September 2, 2011. Growing up wasn’t all that bad, but, living with shame and guilt, the only way I could be “happy” was to drink. Years went by, and by the time I graduated high school, I was a total functioning alcoholic. I worked, went to Europe, did a lot of positive things and tried to fit in, but it just wasn’t happening. Alcohol was my umbilical cord. When I finally got chronic liver disease at 30, the doctors said, “You can never drink again, or you will bleed to death.”
I walked out of the hospital after six weeks, and that was my first real bout with sobriety. I was angry because how was I to live without my bottle? I wasn’t a happy camper, but I didn’t want to die. I stayed sober for six years and “faked it.” My outside was smiling, but my heart was still empty. I kept asking myself, “Why me?”
One day I decided that I was healthy and maybe one drink wouldn’t kill me. Well one won’t, but we know the “one” word! As the years went by, I found myself in and out of jail, rehab and sober living until I was finally on the street. My liver couldn’t take it, and I started to lose my mind. When I drank it went right to my brain so I could drink like a faucet that never turns off. After so many years, I lost track of everything. I was homeless, pushing my shopping cart, sleeping under bridges, eating out of dumpsters, panhandling, flying signs and I can’t forget the seizures in between. But I still kept drinking. When I did go to sleep, the only thing I prayed was “Please God, just let me go,” but that wasn’t in his plan!
My sister, who lives in Canada and is my angel, had a feeling I was really going to die this time so she flew in to town and found me at a motel. I had enough money to stay there for one week. The owner knew me from my dumpster-diving there, and he told my sister I was there but that he was not going to let me die in one of his rooms. She came, and I really don’t remember much after that. I was in a coma and was put into the ICU for three weeks.
When I woke up, it was a miracle, and I was not the same. I know it was God who came and pulled me out to be with him. I can’t explain it, but life is a gift that has been given to me. I was reborn and given a new life. To this day I don’t know what happened, but the hole in my heart is filled, and I am no longer that little girl that never wanted to be born. Today and every day, minute and second, I am grateful, and my sobriety is a priceless gift that I cherish. I hope that my sharing will inspire and help, and I thank you all for being in my life and allowing me into yours! Amen!