- Alcohol
My name is Christine W, and I am an alcoholic. My sobriety date is September 26, 2014.
I am 14 – she screams my name. Drunk again. She’s always the same.
Now I have a black eye, and I get to run away. Have I finally found a safe place to stay?
I am 16 – the boys like me now, maybe it’s my looks? I don’t know, the world looks fuzzy,
a bit foggy from where I stand. Do I even know their names? Does it matter? Weren’t they all the same?
I am 18 – I have a child, he’s my world. A couple more, and I am not so wild anymore.
It is a whole new world. You can see the abuse if you know where to look.
Happily ever after only exists in the book.
I met another, and he is different you see. He is so very sweet. He could be my father, and I think that is neat.
He loves me and takes great care of my boys, no more noise. The years roll by, I stay dry. The rules I follow.
No drinking, no cursing. Another father I found, too bad, eventually it is a husband, a man I needed around.
Always trying to be what I’m not. Look at me, look at me, see what I’ve got!
Divorce number two, I asked for it too. Really blue.
They had patiently waited, doing push-up after push-up, working out in the dark. My demons awaken.
The demolition of my life really starts. Alcohol, cunning, baffling, powerful, picks up with a jump start!
The year is two thousand and seven. I am as far away as I can get from heaven.
As I roar through relationships, bars and accumulate more scars, the year comes to a bitter, painful end.
I lose my brother and my mother, both by their own hands. I am alone again. I drink more and more trying
desperately to drown the pain, and for Valentine’s Day I give myself a gift – I get arrested. DUI – what a treat!
One of those not-yets I get to scratch off. The jail and I briefly meet.
I get on with my life and drink another.
Moving from one boyfriend to the next, which one will love me best?
2008 and 2009 go flying by. Nothing to remember, I was just getting by.
I leap into 2010 and start out with a bang. It’s only February, and here I am, DUI-arrested again!
One might think I’d take a hint. No way, I was too self-sufficient. The only issue was that I drove.
Move up the road from the bar, and I could stay to close, walking home, problem solved.
I am smart, so I was told.
As I spent the next few years, I found the perfect partner, and he was the one.
An active alcoholic, he drank like me. He already had five DUIs, more than me.
At first it was love and fun, partying until the morning sun. Reality crashed in and chaos reined.
I tried to get sober after a really bad day, that was the beginning of the end of the game.
I spend the last two years sobering up and relapsing, picking up desire chips and making some time clean.
Always falling back down again. 30 days, 45 days, 92 days, etc.
Still vainly attempting to make this crazy alcoholic relationship work, me sober, him drinking!
Little did I realize, my success would mean our relationship failure in his mind.
I came to a point of not wanting to drink but not being able to stay sober.
I had enough. That night I went out drinking and got pulled over. I believe I wanted to.
DUI number three. After a horrible night in jail, I went home, drank more and more,
followed by a couple bottles of pills. Yes this landed me as close to death as you can get.
I spent time in ICU, psych and then home. I still wasn’t done. It took a few more times to put it down. I went to court. I went to jail for 17 days. I went to rehab for 28 days. I stayed sober from April 2 until August 18. I left rehab and got drunk that day. I was scared to death. I had lost everything.
After a few failed weeks of attempted drinking, I reached a soul crushing bottom I have never experienced before. I could not get drunk no matter how much I drank. I could not get drunk enough to kill the pain. I was drinking myself more and more sober with each shot. I didn’t know how to live sober. I finally did what I needed to do all along: I surrendered. I reached out for help. I admitted that I could not do this alone. I admitted that I needed help, and I asked for it.
I called a friend, who is now my sponsor. I asked for her help. I told her I have a problem and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to live sober and I don’t want to live drunk anymore. I don’t want to hate myself anymore. It was the hardest and the best thing I have ever done. I am now her temporary roommate. She opened her heart and her home to me. I will be forever grateful. The only way I can repay her is to give it away as she gave it to me.
Relapse is part of my story.
Suicide is part of my story.
But my story is not over.
I am blessed to be given the opportunity to write new chapters,
that death by alcohol doesn’t have to be the way my story ends.
Today I have a choice.
Today I choose not to drink.
Just for today.
Christine W.