I knew very clearly that I was making a conscious choice to drink in order to survive. I don’t know if other addicts start that way, but I did. You see – I’d spent 43 yrs (well, maybe 33 if we say I started avoiding alcohol by around 10 yrs old) keeping alcohol as far away as possible from my own life journey.
And yet there I found myself, in 2013- giving up. I literally just stopped trying. Trying to be perfect, trying to “do the right thing.” Trying to find the right answers. Maybe even trying to be a good person – well – I always kept trying there – I just finally quit trying so hard.
I knew very clearly that the path I was choosing wasn’t going to be pretty. I decided that at least if I was going to take that “easy out” that I chose at the time, at the very least, I’d use it as a tool to help others. I mean – story of my life, right – trying to help.
But mostly I chose to drink so as a way to survive – a way to escape spending every single day and many waking thoughts just wanting to die.
What’s the typical story? I don’t know – but I used drinking to escape physical pain at the end of every day. I used it to discipline myself into watching countless mindless “Monster High” and “Merlin” videos with my daughter because it was the only way I could be there for a 6 yr old besides cooking, clothing, bathing and reading books to her. I used it to combat falling into madness from loneliness, grief, lack of mental stimulation (i.e., being stuck with a 6 yr old every night with no room to afford outside activities) and social isolation as I dealt with bullying from the manager I worked for and emotional recovery from my son’s death.
I drank because I really wanted to die – and I couldn’t find any other answer or way to stay there for my daughter.
