“I shivered under the bright fluorescent lights blazing above me as I attempted to yank the thin blanket tighter around my shaking body. I flipped over on the squeaky mattress and gazed out of the disgustingly dirty window into the vast darkness. My mouth felt like I had eaten a thousand cotton balls, and my throat was dry. The stiff orange scrubs were loose, but they felt perplexingly tight and suffocating. As I began to sober up, I could smell vodka. It seemed like vodka was being emitted from my scalp, my pores, and, as if on cue, what tasted like tears of vodka began to spill over my eyelids.
I went casual drinking to relying on wine daily as motherhood, loneliness and constant overwhelmed slowly took over my life
In the early stages of my Alcohol, I lived in denial and continually told myself I was just going through a rough time, I just had so many kids, and no help I was just stressed out, of course. Because I was no longer working, I felt I didn’t have an identity. I was changing diapers and cleaning up messes all day. I wondered, why wasn’t I fulfilled just staying at home? I had been dreaming about staying home and having kids for most of my life, and here I was, smack dab in the middle of motherhood, and it was officially in session. I reasoned that surely this season of ‘over drinking’ wasn’t going to last forever, and I would get back to drinking normally, in moderation, any day now.
I felt that losing myself control and drinking to cover shame. no one knows i was struggling each day and eventually not recognizing the woman I’d became as depression
my depression and drinking habit became obvious to everyone and they start hating me using bad words for my character until it landed me in legal trouble and finally forced me to face the truth
I ended up going to treatment twice, the first time was prior to my arrest (because my husband made me), and the second time was because the courts made me. But until I had legal issues, I did not concede to my innermost self that I was an alcoholic. Alcohol took me further than I wanted to go and cost me more than I could pay. It was an ego annihilating earthquake—I felt like I had nothing left of my once more confident, joyous self. But I always hoped this was a massive moral failure—I could get back to drinking moderately if I just tried hard enough. Accepting it wasn’t possible to revert to a ‘normal drinker’ was the hardest part of the journey. You can’t turn a piece of toast back into a slice of bread.
The concept of trying to get sober was terrifying. I knew I had to try to get sober if I wanted to continue having my husband and kids in my life, but my track record of success with anything wasn’t stellar, so I was worried. Those first few months at home were so difficult. It was as if I was re-learning how to do everything in my life: go to my husband’s executive work functions, show up for various activities at my kid’s school, be at home by myself, go out with friends to celebrate birthdays it all seemed so daunting. I felt so raw. I had to get comfortable with being uncomfortable.
Still, I forged ahead. I did the deal. I went to my court-appointed monthly check-ins with my probation officer. I went to 12 Step meetings daily, and afterward, I attended awkward coffee times with old people in questionable strip malls. I met my sponsor and began to work through the 12 Steps. Slowly, I was beginning to have a life that looked like it was becoming a little bit more manageable. Little by little, a new person began to emerge as I chipped away at recovery, one day and one step at a time.
In sobriety, my marriage has been saved, and we’ve gone on to have four additional babies together, bringing the total to 8 kids. A couple of years ago, I learned to stay sober while navigating a health crisis when I survived a viral dilated cardiomyopathy and had an internal cardiac defibrillator implanted in my chest. You can stay sober through tough times, apparently.
I have learned to do things differently now: I ask for help, which is a normal part of life with 8 children. I’ve built up a massive network of support in most areas of my life: physically, mentally, and emotionally. I call these people when I’m upset, when I need guidance, when I need advice. I take people through the 12 Steps. I have even developed self-love, and it is so freeing compared to absolutely hating myself with a primal intensity! These days I try to practice patience, gentleness, kindness acceptance, and unconditional love for myself. With others, I try to practice the above, plus boundaries and loving with detachment. I try to make choices that support a peaceful spirit, instead of choices that put me in danger of losing my serenity.
That night lying in jail almost 10 years ago, completely defeated by alcohol, I experienced a soul-crushing brokenness. It was the lowest of lows. When I peered out that window, shaking in my shameful orange scrubs into the devastating darkness, all I could see was the incomprehensible pile of shrapnel barely resembling my life. I felt debilitated. Finished. Like it was proverbial curtains for me. What I had no ability to see at that moment was there were beautiful bright lights illuminating the dark city. Lights of hope, optimism, a future of some kind, tiny beacons representing a new start. I thought my life was ending, but the reality was…it was just beginning. It was the onset of a process of restoring hope, healing, and learning to speak the language of the heart.”
