- Alcohol
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- Other Addictions
Submitted by: Susanne Johnson
I have been in recovery for two years. I’m a real alcoholic. I remember my first drink well. I was age 15 and I drank Vodka out of a Gatorade water bottle. Compared to others around me, age 15 was a late start. I had an older brother that had a lot of problems with drugs and was in and out of several treatment centers. Because of him, I said that I would never ever drink or drug. That obviously changed. He was my perfect example of what not to do at that age, but the effects of seeing him didn’t last very long until I followed his footsteps.
As my alcohol consumption progressed, some drug use came along with it. Even cocaine entered the picture, but it was always alcohol that I really wanted and craved. Cocaine, ecstasy and other stimulants kept me functioning. At my rate of drinking, coffee was no longer working to get me up and moving.
I grew up in the suburbs of Seattle, Washington, and that is where I started drinking. My family eventually moved to California with us, where my brother received treatment to support his recovery. I was in the middle of high school and this move gave me another good reason to drink.
As a sibling of someone in addiction you often lack attention, and all of the focus is on your suffering sibling. I became an over-achiever to get that missing attention, and used alcohol to chill out and let go.
I never saw myself as a potential alcoholic or as having a problem, because I compared myself to a heroin addict who has been through multiple treatment episodes. This comparison let me look like the bigger achiever in anything I did. On top of that, my parents did not view my drinking as a problem because they, too, compared me to my brother.
While drinking began as an escape, it soon became the only way to feel comfortable in my own skin. I was a blackout drinker from the beginning, since my first drink. Then I blacked out every time I drank, followed by waking up in places I don’t know, next to people I don’t know, all with the reoccurring incomprehensible demoralization and shame.
I was about 19 years old when I realized that I wanted to drink like other people and couldn’t. That’s when cocaine came into the picture. Somehow I had the idea that if I took cocaine, I would drink less and therefore have more control. It didn’t last for long and the control quickly went out the window with that combination as well. It was merely a delusion of having any control. I believe wholeheartedly that I have a physical allergy to alcohol. It doesn’t mean that I ruin my life in just one day of drinking (I mean I could) but it does mean that I’m no longer myself when I’m drinking.
My brother never made it into a lasting life in recovery. He passed away in December 2014 on an overdose. He had the biggest struggle I have ever seen someone have. He tried really, really, really hard and made it even to a one and a half years of sobriety before he picked up again and overdosed right away the first time. It is a disaster and a tragedy. I got sober because of my brother’s passing. It woke me up finally, but even after his passing, I did take some time to really “wake up”. At first, I played the victim card for a while, but it was still the turning point in my life.
The treatment center that gave my brother the best chance of recovery he ever had was my goal. I wanted to work there; I begged for a job. After some time, I did have the opportunity to work there, but I was still hiding my own drinking. After I had a few more blackout episodes, my mom told me that I can’t do it anymore if I wanted to continue working there. I was first in denial and delusion, but then took my courage together and went into recovery myself. My brother passed at age 26, I was 22 at that time, and his passing ignited my well-being today.
A parent should never have to bury his or her own child. My parents are still dealing with this tragedy. Statistics say that over 90% of all marriages fail after the loss of a child. I’m really glad that my parents managed to stay together; they are warriors. We walk through it as best as we can together. My father is also a recovered alcoholic.
I got sober through 12-step meetings. I remember going to many meetings with my brother. I was usually stoned when sitting in a meeting with him thinking, “This is so cool. It must be so nice to have a place where all this people can go.” I didn’t know what the 12 steps were, or what a sponsor was. I heard the serenity prayer over and over and thought it was really pretty, but nothing really applied to me when I went with my brother.
When I went to a 12-step group for my own recovery years later, I just wanted to attend meetings. I didn’t want a sponsor and I didn’t want to work the steps; I thought that I didn’t need that part. A sponsor was thrown on me in one of my very first women’s meetings.
I started to get a warm feeling as I understood that I couldn’t compare my outside to other people’s outside in recovery. Our stories might be very different. Our insights and experiences were different, but our feelings were the same. As I understood that, I could finally relate, and that’s why I stayed. I was walking through a journey to ultimately find myself. I made the choice to surrender, as I hit an emotional bottom in my life. I found a new chance and opportunity to change my perspective on life. Through sobriety, I can now fully participate in life. If things happen in life, they are not happening just to me– they just happen and I get to choose how I react.
Self-sufficiency will fail me anytime. I grew up on the idea that I can do everything by myself. Today, at age 25, I know that there is a power greater than myself and I’m not it. When I turn the power over, I don’t have to carry all this weight on my shoulders today. I’m not responsible for everything. I could not have saved my brother. I’m powerless over people, places and things.
I had an untreated eating disorder for a very long time and did seek help for it. I went to treatment for my eating disorder after I was about a year in sobriety from alcohol and drugs. That was when I truly found recovery. Before that, I had switched my addiction to exercise and food. My spare time today is filled with activities. I love that I could pick up playing soccer again, and actually joined a sober soccer team. I found a different way to slow my brain down by doing hot yoga regularly. I found new outlets for my emotions and I started singing again.
Every day, 140 overdoses happen across the country, and this number is growing. I’m happy that I can work in an industry where I can do my part to help some people to get the help they need. We serve a very vulnerable population, a struggling and dying population.
I’m glad about every life that is saved with or without my participation. We need to break the stigma to be able to help more. When the autopsy of my brother came back, my mother first didn’t tell anybody and wanted me to be quiet about it. His addiction and his death didn’t change the fact that my brother was an amazing, funny, sweet, and genuine human being. His overdose only shows his powerlessness over this disease and how debilitating the disease is.
By sharing our stories, I can help other people who go through the same emotions I did. We don’t have to hide our grief behind shame. The door to recovery never closes. If you relapse, then do what it takes to get back on track, do not lose hope, raise your hand and get help.