- Alcohol
I didn’t wake up one morning and think to myself, “I am going to create more problems than I could have ever dreamed of. Today, I will become a problem drinker and begin to self-destruct.” Nevertheless, it happened, and the downward spiral of my life would change me forever.
Here is a little back story. I grew up with a mom. She had a mission, which was to provide me with all of the things she never had such as a stable family, a safe home, a love of academics and the time to pursue the arts. My dad had a plan as well. Toward the end of their marriage, it didn’t include either one of us. He was a drinker. He was a loveable one at times and a violent one on occasion. I was just relieved that his alcohol consumption impaired his motor coordination skills, so throwing the living room table at my mother never came to fruition. The only time I saw him attempt to directly hit my mom was when she was making breakfast and she blocked his attempted slap to her face with her black iron skillet. He never tried to hit her again.
After he left us, I had serious abandonment issues, and my mom, being the codependent that she was, convinced me that we wouldn’t survive. I believed her. We ended up relocating to a different state and within two weeks she found someone who she would end up spending the rest of her life with, not out of love but out of necessity. I turned into a resentful, misguided youth. Since I was practically on my own at age 13, I learned the skills that fueled my anger and resentment. Added to the mix was teenage angst. As a result of my behavior, I was not invited to join my classmates for senior year and had to finish school at a technical college that offered classes to graduate with a high school diploma.
I met and married my ex-husband and graduated within the same two weeks. He appeared to be everything to me. He was intelligent, had a strong work ethic and doted on me. Although none of my friends approved of him, they faded from my life, and I was fine with that. I had my husband and I was convinced that he was all I needed. Needless to say, he was fine with that. I went to college, and he was very supportive. I loved it and excelled. I didn’t graduate, which was ok since my mom was dying during my last semester and taking care of her was the most important thing I could do. That was what I chose to do, thinking that I would return to get my bachelor’s degree.
After my mom died, I was suicidal and had been depressed for a year. I started self-medicating by taking Tylenol PM and I loved that feeling of relaxation, quiet and sleepiness. I took them to go to sleep and then started taking them to take a nap. Before I knew it, I felt like Elvis. I took coffee, a stimulant, to wake up and Tylenol PM, a depressant, to chill. I didn’t want to deal with my feeling of loss, grief or anything else so I didn’t.
I started an online nonprofit organization to get back to myself and I excelled at that too. It was a pioneering effort and it lasted for six and a half years. By that time, we were financially successful and were living well, which I enjoyed very much. It seemed more acceptable to have anger management issues when I had money because the upper echelon that surrounded us had such a strong sense of entitlement and it was being constantly reinforced. Anything becomes normal if you are around it long enough. Eventually, my husband’s assignments dried up, and I was forced to get a real job, which I loathed. This was another resentment that I bottled up and partially led to me leaving him. So there I was with no degree and no real job skills, according to potential employers. Apparently, running a non-profit was considered volunteer work. After a series of rejection letters mostly stating I was either under-qualified or over-qualified, my depression and resentment festered like an infected wound.
So what’s a girl to do? I started smoking weed and A LOT of it. I met someone who worked so I could live with him and smoke and sleep all day. I thought that I had tried and it didn’t work, so I QUIT!
After the divorce, I got a lump sum of money in lieu of alimony. I didn’t want to fight my ex on anything. He trained me well, and I turned out to be as codependent as my mom. I felt lost, scared, ill-equipped and completely alone. So I started going to the clubs and drinking, figuring that I’d earned it. I have had a miserable life and now I could do anything I wanted, so I did. Fun turned into drama quickly, and all of my anger, resentment and depression were magnified. I burned through my money and had nothing left. I already lost my beautiful house, my gorgeous car, my $350 hair appointments, my apartment and any self-respect I had. I felt like damaged goods.
I decided to leave, so I packed up my car with whatever I could and drove from California to Atlanta, GA so I could just start over. Does this sound familiar? Within three months, I lost the house I was renting, and my car got repossessed. I started drinking as much as I could again. I could see the cycle I was in. It was fairly evident, but I didn’t care anymore. I kept trying and failing so I gave up. Bouncing around, I ended up in two abusive relationships. I did have lucid moments and, in one of them, I decided I needed to go back to school before I died. I thought that either I would get in an alcohol related car crash or get my head kicked in by my so-called boyfriend. I just wanted to get that damn diploma. I promised my mom before she died that I would so I thought I should at least accomplish one thing in the world while I still had the chance.
Eighteen months later, I did. I was still binge drinking, which is very apparent on my college transcripts. I got everything from A grades to a D, depending on if I was drinking heavily or not. For me, drinking any other way was just a waste of calories. By the grace of G-d, I saved up enough money to get back to California, where I felt home was. But now I questioned where my home was exactly? I had lost mine already. I decided on moving to Sonoma County, made famous as “Wine Country,” which was an ironic place to get sober.
I was so tired of the damage I had caused for others and myself that I decided I had to make a change. How I was living wasn’t living. I was just existing and I realized I was better than that.
I admitted myself to an outpatient program, which I completed. It left much to be desired but it was a start. I started getting active online and that is where I really found a sense of community. Finally, through the help of my doctor and therapist, I began to learn coping skills that I wasn’t privy to all those years before. I became a recovery coach and founded a sober life coaching website, which I probably get more out of than anyone else.
I have learned a lot and I read a lot. I started to paint again. Art was a passion I had before I started the only sustainable career I seemed qualified for: my drinking career. It turns out that I’ve not only found myself again, but I am also an improved version. I am not chronically depressed, suicidal, hopeless and miserable. Since I survived those years of despair, I feel fortunate. What I feel fortunate about often depends on the day. I look back at what I refer to as “Those Dayz of Haze” and feel such a disconnect. It is like I am watching the Lifetime Movie Network channel, looking at a poor lost soul as if that person wasn’t me. But it was me. It just was not the true me, which I continue to explore more of each and every day. I also decided to go back to school for my degree in marriage and family therapy. Classes start this August.
Shira G.