Recovery from Alcoholism & Healing ~ A Reader’s Story

Sober doesn’t Suck! is a safe place for people to share their stories of being an alcoholic, addiction and recovery openly and honestly. There is no requirement of sobriety for posting, if you’re concerned about your using I want to hear from you too.

I recently received the following article from one of my readers, Samantha.  I’m honored to share his words, hoping someone will find comfort and hope in them.

If you’d like to tell your story, your feelings about your own addiction or that of someone else in your life please head over to the Sober doesn’t Suck! page. Addiction affects the people around us, I’m interested in sharing all sides.

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It was a cold January night.  I was surrounded by ten-year old girls, alone as my husband was out of town.  We had pedicure sets, lotions, scrubs, face masks, loofah, you name it for our pristine spa party.

This was just a few months after yet another crushing, defeating relapse.  Our friends were supposed to take the wine home with them after the party. My new rule was no alcohol in the house.  Well that rule failed and a few hours later I was knee-deep in Christmas Cards, quite sloppy drunk,

So this night at the slumber party I see Julie’s amazing blog, SoberJulie.com.  And she is asking for recovery stories.  Boy do I have them.  I have relapse and recovery and relapse and maybe a smidge more relapse stories to share.  The girls were getting ready in their sleeping bags. They were beginning to settle.  I took out the laptop and put my feelings to keyboard and began to type my story.  That was the first in a long time writing my feeling truly gave me freedom.  And Julie being so kind did post my post, Pickled by Alcohol.  I read it often.  I read it now.  It reminds me what life was like.

Drinking Away the Pain

Everything I went through during that time before my alcoholism just rose like a lost balloon and the state fair, seemed futile and sad.  While pregnant with my first child my mother passed away from a terrible cancer.  I gave birth to Isabelle and a few months found out I was pregnant with Madeline.  And then, feeling isolated and unloved in my marriage I looked outside for comfort.  I also looked to my “friend” Schminoff more and more for comfort and spent less time with any other friends.  That loss of my mother was a deep, profound loss and alcohol suppressed my daemons, or so I thought.

Eagerly I drank away the pain of mom’s death, a failed marriage, financial ruin and, of course, reputation ruin.  It didn’t matter as long as I had my “friend.”

I finally again found myself almost two years sober. During that time I had the pleasure of working out a good bit of those isms that drive me to drink.   The seven shots I took because it wasn’t fair that your older mother was still alive numbed my pain.  The five shots seeing you with your perfect family celebrating Mother’s Day helped me get through that lunch.  I probably added a few more shots for poor me without my mom and my brand new babes.

Recovery from Alcoholism & Healing

I finally again found myself almost two years sober.  And that is when I really had to pound the pavement to fix all of this “stuff.”  Those elements that haunted me, the ones I suppressed with vodka, well they came right back with full force once I put down the bottle handle on it.  I worked and worked and worked that summer in AA, with my sponsor, read, journalled and worked with my therapist.  Finally, I was somewhat more stable and healthy.  The desires to drink began to slowly evaporate.

I still missed my mom.  I still cried.  Sometimes I hated God.  The summer I found my real recovery I met a man on a set up date that wasn’t a set up date.  He is in recovery too.  And that is something I was adamant would not happy.  I would not date someone as crazy as me.

But now we are crazy in love.  I keep working of fixing those thing that drove me to drink.  I follow the steps.  I do the next right thing.  I pray for you.  I pray for that unkind fellow who barked at me at the gas station.  Each day, the only new day I get is my reprieve.

On Mother’s Day I grieve.  I’ve lost the bitter jealous feeling.  I appreciate the moms old and young. And recently, sadly, to myself I thought, if not for my mom’s passing I would never have the great life  have now.  If my alcoholism presented itself who knows what would have happened.  I probably would not have divorced. I would have never been a fabulous, full-blown, hurting drunk who found the man of her dreams, the man she initially swore off even dating.

Mother’s Day slowly, year after year, gives me more peace.  Yes I cry a few times.  Mom’s birthday is just a few days before Mother’s Day so I get a couple good cries in.  But I rejoice for my sobriety.  I rejoice I had the chance to heal.  I have my girls and my boys and I can show them how to do the next right think.  And I have my rock of recovery, my dear sweet husband.  In my heart I believe my mom guided this man to me.  I believe she guided me through the pain of the heeling so I could once again be of service to others.