- Alcohol
- Drugs
Alcoholics and addicts love to think that they’re different from everyone else. Either they think they are better than the masses, the worst of the worst or just so unique that no one could possibly understand how they think, feel and behave. I understand this since I lived it for so long, long enough to almost kill me and take everything that I held dear.
My uniqueness, in my mind, began with my upbringing. I grew up as an only child in a military family that moved around a lot. This was fine in the early years, but I was painfully shy and didn’t appreciate it as much when adolescence kicked in. I often found myself in a new place with no friends. It would generally take me a good year to make a few friends and then we would move on to the next place soon after that. The introduction to alcohol in my early years of high school seemed to speed up this friend making process quite a bit, and I thought that I had truly found the answer to my prayers.
What I know now, however, is that I didn’t drink normally even from the beginning. I always had a preoccupation with the next drink. Even if I had a full drink in my hand, I would think, “How am I going to get more alcohol?” Or I would think, “If there are five of us and only twelve beers, how can I get my hands on more than my share of those?” It was work from the very start. I can’t say that they weren’t fun times, though. I had my share of fun drinking in high school and experimenting with drugs when I went to college. Through it all, however, it was never really social drinking. There was always something very compulsive about it.
Perhaps it was a byproduct of growing up in a military family, but I also seemed to have a sense of discipline and purpose about the other areas of my life. I was able to do well in school and in sports and I could map out a plan for my life that I worked toward. Many of these things fell into place quite nicely for me as time went on. I finished high school and went to college in northern California. I graduated from college, got married and started a great job in my chosen field. The drinking and occasional drugs continued for several years but in a more controlled manner.
Aside from the moving around while growing up, which I didn’t like, I had never really had to deal with any sort of adversity in my life. I had great, loving parents and life seemed to go ok for me. This continued until my early 20s. In the course of one year, my life seemed to fall apart, and I fell apart with it. My father became sick with pancreatic cancer and passed away very quickly. My husband was unfaithful and left me, and I found myself very alone. I began drinking daily and decided it would be best if I left California and moved to Florida, where my mother lived.
It took me just a few days at my new job in Florida to find people who drank and partied like I wanted to. This set a course for a very dangerous progression. I was also suffering from some minor neck pain and migraine headaches, for which I was prescribed prescription painkillers for the first time. I have to say that those things seemed like little miracle beams to me. From then on, I had little interest in alcohol and started abusing opiates as often as I could get my hands on them. I thought that they were perfect. You could carry them around in your pocket and take them at work. They didn’t smell like alcohol, and there was no hangover effect, so I thought.
I was able to abuse Vicodin and still function for several years. I kept this legal by doctor shopping and getting the pills from a friend. During this time, I also became pregnant and had my son. I was able to stay clean, by the grace of God, during my pregnancy, but my son was born via C-section. I went home with a baby and a bottle of Percocet. This set off my cravings for drugs again. It was shortly after this that I took my addiction to the next level.
Unable to keep up with rigors of motherhood and the necessity of doctor shopping, I got a hold of some poor doctor’s prescription pad and decided to start writing my own scripts for Vicodin. This was an act of desperation, plain and simple. Whether he gets away with it one or twenty times, the addict will always continue until he is caught. Such is my experience. My first arrest for prescription fraud occurred in 1998, with my six month old son in his car seat in the backseat of the car.
These types of felony arrests, trips to jail, sentences to rehab and trips to the probation office chronicled a three year battle in my heart, mind and soul. I was arrogant, indignant and just plain ignorant about this disease and the hold that it had on me. When I’d get arrested again, I was never sorry for what I did. I was just sorry that I got caught. In fact, I’d find people in jail doing the same sorts of things and interview them to try to figure out how to do it better next time. At one point, I actually carried around either cash or a blank check in my pocket to use as bail money for the next arrest. If that’s not insanity, I don’t know what is.
In the various rehabs that I passed through during this period of time, I was told a lot of things that I didn’t take to heart. I was told that this disease leads to jails, institutions or death. I was also told that I was going to lose anything that I put before my recovery. Finally, I was warned that there was no possible way for me to recover from this on my own. I had always done everything on my own so this was a tough one for me to swallow. I just didn’t get it. I thought that I was different and smarter than everyone else. I also suspected that a change of scenery was all that I needed, so the geographic cure was set in motion.
I took my two year old son and moved to the other side of the state for exactly one year. It took a very short time for me to resume the same behavior in the new place. The difference was that I had no family, no friends and no support whatsoever in this new place. So when the ax fell, it fell hard. I was arrested for the last time for the same crime in 2001 and was told that I was absolutely not going to be getting out of jail this time. I was looking at losing my three year old son and my freedom, and that was finally enough to snap my head up. It was at this point that I begged for help and was told that it may be too late.
I had been so stubborn for so long and refused so much help that no one trusted my sincerity. And who could blame them? My arrogance nearly cost me everything. I was told that I needed to just put one foot in front of the other and do the next right thing, which is what I did. I got onto a waiting list for a 90-day inpatient treatment center and called them every day, begging them to let me in. I entered treatment on 11/5/2001 and count this as my sobriety date.
In prior treatment center stints, I had actually wanted for someone to explain to me in black and white terms how doing the hocus pocus stuff that they suggested was going to help me stay clean and not feel like a crazy person. By this time, I was so desperate that I didn’t care anymore. I just did what was suggested and asked for more things to do. This was the cosmic shift that made all the difference. It was a complete surrender brought about by a level of desperation that I have never felt before. It was also very freeing because I had been fighting for so long and was very tired.
I found great solace in the notion that I was powerless over so much, not only drugs and alcohol but also over people, places and things. This made life much easier to bear and made dealing with the consequences that I was facing much simpler. I was looking at going to prison for five years and losing custody of my son. I was jobless, homeless and had some health issues as a result of my using. The obsession to use drugs was lifted almost immediately after I entered treatment and started to work a program of recovery. I found all the help that I needed in dealing with my problems and in learning how to live life clean and sober.
I have to admit that I was a bit stunned at how well this worked. I did let go of each of these issues in turn and took the suggestions given to me in treatment, in 12-step groups and by my sponsor. And I was amazed by the results. I did not spend another day in jail, though I ended up with some lasting legal consequences. I kept my son in my life, and he was very inspirational to me as I worked my program and learned a new way to live. I took a simpler job coming out of rehab so that I could concentrate on my sobriety. It grew for me over the course of several years and turned into a very nice career by the time I was ready. All of these things served as miracles in recovery in my life and built up my faith in a higher power, which I began to see was watching over me and wanting nothing but the best for me.
In the beginning, I attended a lot of 12-step meetings, sometimes several a day. This helped me to establish a solid network of new friends that I could rely on for support and provided me with the tools that I needed to stay sober on a daily basis. I worked the 12 steps with a sponsor in my first year, and this made feel even more a part of the program and brought me closer to my higher power. I learned how to have fun while sober again by going camping and boating with these new friends. I also learned how to handle disappointments sober. One important lesson for me over the years has been to see the meaning of doors closing and new opportunities, whether personal or professional. Whether it be losing a job or a love, there is generally joy and progress at the end of each dark tunnel if I just have faith and keep walking.
My company, and with it my great career, filed for bankruptcy when I was five years sober and I took that opportunity to start my own business. This is something that I would have never done otherwise as it is terrifying and risky. I have to say that I absolutely love working for myself and the fulfillment that I have received in being able to write several recovery-related books in just the past year, is amazing. My son is now 15 years old and has no memory of me in active addiction. He is one of my best friends, though, and knows my story well. We talk very honestly about drugs, alcohol and many other things. He is an everlasting source of joy in my life. I have had the joy of connecting with my beautiful love this past year, who is also in recovery, and we are able to not only share our lives together but also the joy of this program and all that it has given us.
My stubbornness and pigheadedness could have gotten me killed or, worse, gotten someone else killed. I’d like to think that I could have stopped earlier but I’m not so sure. Because of my stubbornness, I am thoroughly convinced that I can’t safely drink, drug or control this thing on my own. I tried everything I could think of before throwing in the towel. I see no reason today to give it another shot but I also know that I can’t stay sober on my own resources. I need to be working a solid recovery program, have a support system in place and have a connection with a higher power to maintain my sobriety and my serenity on a daily basis. For the many chances that I have been given, I am eternally grateful and have no plans to waste the gift of sobriety.